Thrax didn’t say a word as he watched those tears slide out of my eyes for a few seconds. Then he grabbed my hand, turned me towards the door, and dragged me out.
He left me in front of my door and walked back to his room, shutting his door.
I stood there with my face wet, heart cracking open, and with more questions than I woke up with.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SANORA
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but the sky outside had dimmed into evening, and my limbs moved on autopilot as I padded downstairs to retrieve my laptop and phone, both of which I’d abandoned before I’d, you know, snuck into Thrax’s room like a totally normal, mentally sound person.
A yawn tore out of me just as I reached the last step, my jaw wide open like a cave, turning to see Thrax slouched on the couch, phone in hand, eyes on screen.
At least, they were—until they flicked up to me.
His gaze landed on my face mid-yawn, lingered half a second, then dropped back to his phone like I wasn’t even worth the flick of his eyes.
Oh. That was cold.
Fine. I could be cold too.
I turned away, heading for the kitchen where I’d left my things, ignoring the invisible tension pulsing in the room like heat from a shut oven. My laptop sat on the counter, but the lid had been closed. I knew I’d left it open.
I turned back to him, hands fisted, mouth parting to snap at him to stop touching my stuff, but instead I sighed, rolled my eyes, andgrabbed both devices. No point wasting breath on someone who acted like I was the intrusive one inhishouse.
I started back up the stairs.
One step. Two steps. By the third, the silence was itching against my skull.
I knew why. And I hated it. I’d made it weird. And even worse, he looked like he didn’t care.
Which was rich, considering he’d shown up with his belongings, barged into my space, and hadn’t apologised once.
So why the hell did I feel like I owed him an apology when I did nothing wrong?
Three more steps up the stairs and I turned around, frowning, arms folded over my laptop.
“I didn’t sneak in. You know I didn’t. You heard the door. Which means I wanted you to hear it.” The lie was much said in a flat tone.
His eyes lifted from his phone again, slow and unimpressed. He took me in standing halfway up the stairs and tilted his head. “That explains why you were in the wardrobe.”
I choked, nearly forgetting about that misfortune. “That—that was not— It’s not what it looked like. I wasn’t hiding, okay? I slipped and...fell inside and—” I exhaled sharply. “So what? I snuck into your room and hid in the wardrobe.So what?You’ve done worse and never apologised. I’m not about to say sorry for trying to find proof that you’re some dangerous psycho.”
“I don’t want an apology from you,” he said firmly. “Why would you apologise to me?”
Oh.
Right.
He wouldn’t want an apology because if our positions were reversed, he wouldn’t give one either. Did he have no sense of privacy? Privacy didn’t seem like something he offered unless itbenefited him. But considering how he pulled me out of his room after I opened that scar, he definitely had.
Ah. That.
I exhaled and shifted the laptop to one arm, tucking my hair behind my ear with my free hand. “I wasn’t crying because of you,” I said stiffly, unable to look at him for too long. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t give a fuck—”
“I know,” he said, calm and certain, eyes locked on mine like he didn’t doubt it for a second.
“You…do?”
