by Theresa Jane
"It’s who I am," he said simply, and I looked beside me to find him glaring out at the city skyline. I stayed silent and waited for him to continue, but he never did and I never really expected him to.
After several long, silent minutes, he got to his feet and moved around the sofa. I heard his footsteps come to a stop only a few steps later. Curious, I looked over my shoulder to see him staring at where I had painted on his wall, and I felt a smirk slip across my face. This was going to go down about as well as a lit match in dry grassland. I expected flames.
"I know what you’re thinking," I preempted.
"You ruined my wall," he answered flatly, not turning back to look at me.
"That really depends on your definition of ruin. Personally, I think I improved it." I said, getting to my feet and setting my coffee cup down. I was going to need both hands for the fight that was sure to follow his shocked silence.
"What do you mean improved it?" he demanded, twisting back to face me. There was deep anger etched into his features. "You’ve…you’ve completely defaced my wall."
"Some people call it art," I shrugged, and I could feel his anger increase.
"Art? My apartment is ruined. Why would you do this? Are you punishing me for disappearing, is that it?"
"Actually, you already saw it."
"When?’" he ground out, and I could almost hear the tension in his voice as he looked back at my painting.
"You came here with a man called Jeb before you went into an alcoholic coma."
"I don’t remember," he muttered.
"You were pretty drunk," I answered, disgust curling my lip as I remembered that night.
"You met Jebediah?" he asked, turning back to me quickly.
"Yes," I breathed, looking down at my feet.
"What did he do?" he asked menacingly, and I looked up at him in surprise.
"Liam?"
"What did he do?" He repeated slowly.
"N-nothing," I stuttered, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to tell him that he was the one that night who made me feel uncomfortable, and I definitely wasn’t going to tell him why.
"Freya."
"Honestly, it was nothing I haven’t handled before," I assured him, trying to act casual.
"What does that mean?" he challenged.
"Nothing," I answered quickly. "It doesn’t matter." I could feel his piercing eyes on me as I shuffled uncomfortably under his glare. There was almost an entire apartment separating us, but somehow it still felt stifling.
"Tell me," he demanded.
"Why don’t you tell me who Jenna is then?" I demanded, trying to redirect the attention from me as images started to flash across my vision.
"How do you know about Jenna?" he asked, stumbling back.
"It doesn’t matter. Who is she?"
"Leave it, Freya," he growled, his eyes clouding over.
"No, if you want to know my past then I want to know yours. You don’t get to demand all the answers," I shot back, my face flushing red.
He glared at me for a moment before turning his back on me and headed for the door. I suddenly remembered what Ant had told me.
Quickly, I ran around the sofa, skidding on the dark floorboards and then running for the front door. I quickly placed my body in between Liam and the door as he reached for the handle.
"Freya, what are you doing?" he growled, his hand still firmly on the door handle by my waist.
"Lucinda said you can’t leave the apartment," I gasped, out of breath from my mad dash across the apartment.
"Move Freya."
"Where are you going?" I gulped, pressing my back firmly against the door.
“Out,” he answered flatly.
"You can’t," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "Lucinda will kill you."
"For the last time Freya, move aside," he said, bending down so his eyes were level with mine. I could almost feel the heat from the embers burning in his irises but still, I didn’t move. Slowly, I shook my head and I could feel his warm breath dancing across my skin. I fought the shiver that was trying to work its way down my spine.
"Freya," he breathed warningly. Then suddenly, there were two strong hands clamped around my waist and easily lifting me aside. I let out a startled yelp before I realized what was happening. Once I figured it out, I did the only thing I could think of.
"Freya," Liam mumbled angrily against my stomach as I reached out and wrapped my arms around his head and my legs around his upper torso. "What are you doing?"
"Lucinda said you can’t leave," I answered as he let his hands fall from my waist and hang limply by his side.
"So you’ve attached yourself to me?" he asked sarcastically.
"I’m not going against Lucinda. She could murder you and make it look like an accident."
"Get down, Freya," he warned, but it only made me tighten my hold.
‘Are you going to stay in the apartment?’
"Sure," he answered unconvincingly.
"I don’t believe you."
“I mean it Freya, let go,” he emphasized, and suddenly his hands were on my waist again trying to pull me away from him, and I struggled against his hold.
"Oomph," he muttered as he fell back against the wall, and I cried out as my legs were squished between him and it. They fell from his chest and suddenly, all I was holding onto him by was his head. He stumbled slightly under the change in distribution and then suddenly we were falling.
I released his head as we tumbled down and I was flung back against the opposite wall, banging my head beside where my mural was. I heard Liam's body hit the floor heavily and I looked over to find him flat against the hardwood floor with his eyes scrunched up in pain.
"You’re insane," he grumbled. "I don’t know how you did it, but somehow you made my hangover worse."
"Good," I muttered, pushing up to my feet as I rubbed at the back of my head where it had hit the wall painfully. I was slightly dizzy when I got to my feet. When I took my first step, it felt as if the floor had come out from under me and suddenly I found myself falling.
"Argh!" I heard Liam groan underneath me as I lay sprawled across his solid chest. I found myself very thankful that he had put a shirt on. "I wasn’t moving, Freya, you didn’t need to dive on me."
"I didn’t dive on you, I fell," I spat back, trying to push to my feet again and hide the heat that was rising in my cheeks with Liam's hard body pressed up against my own.
"Or maybe you just want to be close to me," he smirked, and I felt anger hum in my veins as I glared down at him.
"You’re delusional," I huffed, clambering off him. Liam's only reply was to chuckle at my discomfort, like the gentleman he wasn't. This next month was going to be torture.
Chapter 12: Throw Away the Key
"Freya, please,’" Liam begged again as I dragged the stool over to the wall where I had painted my last piece.
"No, you know what Lucinda said," I replied, rolling my eyes and taking the brush before clambering on top of the stool.
"Just for an hour, I’ve been cooped up for too long."
"Liam," I frowned, turning carefully on the stool to look at him. "It’s been five hours since they left." He groaned from where he was lounging on the sofa and I shook my head, returning my attention to the wall.
He was muttering angrily behind me, but I ignored him. I was focused on the blank wall beside where I had painted the man’s silhouette with the sun rising behind him. It still felt incomplete but no matter how long I looked, I still couldn’t figure out what was missing.
I had been so deep in thought that I hadn’t noticed someone come up beside me. So, when Liam spoke, I nearly toppled off the stool.
"What is it?"
"Whoa," I exclaimed, reaching out for anything to steady myself. I was certain I was going to fall ungracefully from the stool when I felt an arm wrap around my waist. Instinctively, I let the hand holding the brush wrap around his nec
k.
Even on the stool, I was only just taller than him, and he easily steadied my body weight. When I looked up at him, I found myself fighting hard to control my laughter as I admired the mess I had left on his face.
"What?" He frowned, and I noticed he still hadn’t let go of my waist.
"Nothing," I smirked, gently pushing him away. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to let me go. I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks under the intensity of the gaze, but then the moment was gone. He released me and looked back at the wall, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
"So?" He gestured to the wall, and I shook myself, trying not to stare too long at his eyes.
"I don’t know, there’s something wrong," I frowned, ignoring the paint that had splattered across Liam’s face. He could figure that out later.
"Yeah, it’s on my wall," he muttered, and a smile quickly spread across my face.
"You haven’t moved the furniture back," I mused, and I glanced over at him as he looked back out at the room but didn’t say anything.
"You know Liam, you don’t say much," I announced, climbing down from the stool. "Ant didn’t really say much either."
Liam continued to stay silent beside me, so I talked to fill the empty space.
"I imagine conversations between the two of you are very…stimulating," and still, he didn’t reply. Shaking my head, I bent down to pick up my lone tube of paint.
"Aren’t you going to further destroy my wall?" he asked, and I looked at him as if he were crazy.
"How? If you haven’t noticed, my paints are currently tracking the footsteps of your unwanted guests from the other night," I answered, unable to hide the bite in my tone as I brushed past him. "Who were they anyway?"
"Just people I know," he answered emotionlessly. I could hear his footsteps as he followed me down the hall, and I wondered why. He must have been really bored.
"They don’t seem very nice," I shrugged, pushing the door to my room open.
"I don’t keep them around because they’re nice."
"Why do you hang out with them then?" I prodded, wondering how far he would let me go.
"They’re fake, and they don’t hide it," he shrugged. He leaned up against my doorframe, watching as I put my paintbrush away. "They aren’t attached, and neither am I."
I frowned at his answer but didn’t push any further. I got the sense he wouldn’t answer anyway. After a long moment of silence, I decided to change the subject. I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with him looming in my doorway.
"So, what do you want to have for dinner?" I asked, already feeling my stomach begin to rumble with the pains of hunger.
"Whiskey," he muttered, and I felt a disapproving frown spread across my face before I could stop it. "What is your problem? Why do you always do that?"
"I don’t have a problem," I shot back defensively. I only have a problem with alcohol when it’s ingested by people.
"You do," he insisted. "Anytime it’s mentioned, you tense up and that night, you flinched from me. Why?"
"Just leave it, Liam,’ I said warningly. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I set my lone tube of paint down on my bed. I could sense he had moved from the doorway and was now standing close behind me.
"Where’s the floor?" he asked as I turned back to him.
"Where it’s always been," I shrugged, brushing past him and picking my way back through the clutter to the hallway.
"You’re my maid."
"I don’t recall you asking me for my credentials when you won me in a bet against my brother," I shot back as we returned to the kitchen, Liam close behind me. He didn’t answer, and I turned back in confusion, which only grew as I saw the angry look on his face.
"Liam?" I frowned. The look faded before he spoke again.
"Why don’t we go out for dinner?" he asked, trying to mask his anger, but I could still see it lingering in his eyes.
"No," I answered firmly.
"Why not?"
"I can barely keep you inside the apartment. If you go out, I’ll never be able to keep track of you."
"I’m not a child," he grumbled, and I remained silent as he pouted in front of me.
"How about we order pizza?" I suggested, and he grunted in reply before shuffling away and making himself a drink.
"Do you really think that’s a good idea?" I questioned warily.
"It’s always a good idea," he murmured before tossing the drink back and going for a second.
* * *
"Are you even trying to help?" Liam grumbled as he hoisted the end of the sofa higher in his grip.
"No."
"You’re impossible," he groaned before setting his end down. I had barely lifted my end off the ground, so I didn’t have far to go.
"Nothing is impossible," I replied, keeping my face as straight as possible.
"Come on, it’s nearly back where it’s meant to be," he sighed, bending down and picking up his end again. Subtly, I admired the muscles that bunched beneath his black shirt but quickly diverted my attention. The last thing I needed was him noticing me admiring his many...attributes.
I wasn’t moving this sofa anywhere. I only agreed to shift it because you couldn’t see the television where I had put it. Although, I thought the view of Manhattan was better anyway.
"What’s wrong with right here?" I asked, already knowing his problem. We weren’t exactly inside his little box I had mapped out. We were close but not exact, and I knew it was going to ruin him, slowly. Very slowly.
"Can you just help me move it?" he asked exasperatedly, and I raised my eyebrows challengingly.
"I think this is the perfect place for a sofa," and I took several steps back from it.
"Freya," Liam said warningly, already catching on to what I was about to do. I took the few steps back to the sofa before launching myself onto the cushions. Luckily Liam, sensing what I was about to do, had set the sofa back on the floor.
"See," I smiled, resting my arms triumphantly behind my head. "Perfect."
Liam didn’t have a chance to reply before the doorbell rang. He looked at me expectedly, and I groaned before getting up from the sofa and heading for the door.
"Two large pizzas," the delivery boy announced before he raised his eyes to look at me.
"Wonderful, I’m starving," I sighed, digging around in my pocket for some money.
"Wow, your eyes are really green."
"Thank you?" I answered uncertainly, handing over the notes.
"No, I mean they’re really beautiful," he corrected, and I felt my cheeks turn an unflattering shade of red. "Hey, would you-"
"Babe, what’s taking so long?"
"I-" I began, feeling my initial shock mixing with anger as Liam walked down the hall toward me.
"Always talking," he smirked at the delivery boy, and I caught him smiling awkwardly in reply. "The trick is getting her to be quiet long enough for you to get a word in."
"Yeah," the delivery boy said uncomfortably as Liam did the unthinkable and put his arm around my shoulders. "Well, enjoy."
As soon as the boy was back inside the elevator, I felt my anger climax.
"Get your arm off me," I growled, and I felt Liam's arm drop from my shoulders. He took the pizzas from my hands and started walking down the corridor as if nothing had happened. I trudged after him, slamming the door behind me as I went.
I stormed into the kitchen where he was casually getting plates out, and I glared at him from across the bench top. When he didn’t explain himself, I couldn’t help but speak.
"What was that?" I hissed as he started pulling out pieces of cheesy pizza.
"What?" He shrugged, stuffing half a slice in his mouth.
"What do you mean, what?" I asked menacingly. "You called me babe and acted like we were a couple."
"He was coming on to you," he shrugged.
"I am not, nor will I ever be your babe."
"How many of those girls that you bring here have you called babe?" I demanded, and he stuffed the rest of his slice in his mouth.
"You had no right to act that way," I continued. "You don’t own me, Liam. We aren’t even together. If a guy wants to hit on me, it's none of your business."
"He wasn’t your type."
"That isn’t for you to decide," I replied, sensing the rise of my voice but not able to do anything to contain it.
"He was a pizza delivery boy, Freya,” he answered, his eyebrows shooting up disapprovingly.
"You know what Liam, just forget it," I huffed, pushing back from the bench and moving to the sofa.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at the ceiling. I could hear Liam doing things in the kitchen. Then his footsteps started to more over to me and with every step, I felt my anger grow.
"Hungry?" Liam asked, holding a plate out to me. I glared at him for a moment before sighing and pushing up on the sofa.
"Yes," I exhaled as my stomach proceeded to growl in anticipation of the offered food. Reluctantly, I took the plate from him, too tired to start an argument with my stomach.
Liam was now standing with his back to me, staring at the blank television screen, and I watched him curiously.
"You did this," he accused, and I frowned at him, wondering what I could have possibly done now.
"What?" I asked, and he turned to face me, pointing at the cheek I had splattered with paint earlier.
"Yes, I did," I smiled proudly. Liam wasn’t as enthused by my new choice of canvas.
"You let me walk around with paint on my face?" he demanded.
"Yes, and yellow is such a lovely color on you."
"Why didn’t you tell me?"
"And miss this reaction?" I scoffed, taking a bite out of my pizza.
"I just...why did you…" he floundered, and I blinked innocently as he struggled to grasp the English language.
"Why don’t you sit down, Liam?" I suggested but instead, he stormed from the room, and I quickly checked over the back of the sofa to make sure he didn’t leave the apartment.
Moments later, he reappeared, and all the yellow had been scrubbed from his face, leaving a red splotch where he had rubbed too hard.