Space (Laws of Physics #2)(7)

Her eyes remained steadfastly on the floor and she mumbled, “You don’t date because you’re a player.”

“No,” I ground out. “I don’t date because I don’t believe in wasting time treading water. When I know, I know.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means, I’m in love with you.”

Finally, finally her eyes came back to me. They widened, her jaw slackened, and she stood silent like a statue. I couldn’t believe this news stunned her as much as it seemed to. Maybe I could allow for some surprise, but she looked completely shell-shocked.

Hesitating only a second—partly because I wondered if it would be taking advantage, but also because she was acting so strangely—I closed the distance between us. Everything was wrong, but this might be my only chance to make things right. I slid my hands around her back. I held her. I kissed her.

She flinched and didn’t respond at all, at first. But then she responded by twisting her face from mine.

“No, no, no!” She pushed me.

I let her go and grabbed fistfuls of my hair, turning away and pacing the length of the kitchen. Fire in my chest. My thoughts in disorder. What the fuck was happening?

I glanced at her. She’d covered her face and was shaking her head. And then she sniffled, the unmistakable sound of a sob rending from her chest that tore at mine.

Please don’t cry. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Goddammit! You don’t love me! I hate—” She cut herself off, shaking her head harder.

I watched her, helpless and so fucking confused, my mind all over the place, unable to see straight. What is happening?

“Lisa—”

“Just fucking listen,” she shouted, surprising me, her hands dropping and revealing a face that looked like a stranger’s. “I’m not who you think I am, okay?”

Despite hearing these words from her before, this time I believed her. I didn’t argue, just watched her and waited for . . . I had no idea. A sign? A glimmer of my Lisa? The woman I couldn’t get enough of? The woman I’d written twenty poems about in six days?

“But before I say anything else—” she swiped at her eyes leaving dark smudges on her cheeks, sucking in a deep breath “—I have to ask you something.”

I waited, promising myself I wouldn’t cross to her or try to touch her until invited. Strangely, this promise didn’t seem as big as it had yesterday when we were in the pool, or when we were on the couch. Last night I’d promised myself not to touch her, and it had been torture.

Today? It was self-preservation.

When she didn’t say anything, I prompted with forced calm, “Fine. What do you want to ask?”

She licked her lips, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, a nervous habit I hadn’t noticed before. “If I lied to you, would you forgive me?” she finally blurted, shutting her eyes.

Lied to me? I straightened my back.

“About what?” The question slipped out, unplanned.

“No. I’m not—it could be about anything, okay?” Her eyes opened again and she stared forward at my neck. “If I lied to you at any point this week, would you be able to forgive me?”

My mind was racing with worst-case scenarios, my stomach sinking. “Did you sell those drugs? To those kids?” More unplanned questions, but what could I do? She was acting so crazy.

“No.” She was back to whispering again, giving me a clue that the question had upset her. “I didn’t do that. I would never do that.”

I believed her. But the next obvious choice made my throat tighten with the urge to rage.

“Are you back with Tyler?” I asked roughly, determined not to raise my voice, but I was already so jealous. I didn’t want to be jealous. I’d never been jealous. But I was so fucking jealous in that moment, the cloud around my vision turned red.

Fuck.

I’d never experienced anything like this before.

I hated it. Hated it. It felt like being branded with a million tiny hot pokers.

“No.” Her glare turned distracted. “But it’s something like that—” her eyes came to mine, still guarded, still off, still wrong “—something just as bad as that. A lie that big.”

I’d never been so frantic before to recall previous conversations. I went through every day, every interaction, every word that I could remember. I came up empty.

“What is it?”

“Would you forgive me?”

I nodded but didn’t answer out loud, trying to convince myself while also dealing with this insane jealousy. I would. I would forgive her anything. I would—

“Hypothetically, what if I told you that I’ve been lying to you every day, this whole week, about something important. You say you love me, but would you forgive me?”

I stopped nodding. “Have you?”

She remained silent, her eyes now narrowed, searching. “You wouldn’t forgive me, would you?”

“I don’t know!” I exploded, not understanding her or why she was doing this. “You haven’t told me what it is. Fuck, Lisa. I don’t even know what we’re talking about.”

“Forget it.” She gave her head a small shake, her eyes dropping to the kitchen floor.