“What are you talking about?” I whisper, unable to ignore the hint of alcohol on her breath.
She was drinking before she got here tonight. The aroma is saturating the air, the way it does when it’s been building for some time.
It couldn’t have been too much because her speech is clear and precise, but her eyes are glossy enough to show it. I should’ve noticed it earlier. But I was far too distracted by the rest of her appearance tonight.
“You.” An accusation. A statement, matter-of-fact. All mixed into the declaration of a single word.
The ground beneath me begins to shake.
She steps forward, and her hand flattens on my chest, sliding up and wrapping around my jaw. “How could you do this? Huh?”
She must meanfollowing her. She meanspushing her boundaries. She doesn’t mean the stalking, the cameras, the letters, the mask. She can’t …
No. No. No. Don’t say it.
“Do what?” I’m not assuming anything out loud. She’s going to have to use her words. “I’ll leave you be. I was just checking on you.”
She laughs humorlessly, rising up on her toes and getting as close as possible to my face. “Bates . . . where’s yourmask?”
“Fuck.”
I’m in shock.
Frozen.
Unable to form another word or even take in a gasp of breath. I’m stuck, pinned in place by her stare.
Shit!
This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
She’s not ready.
I’mnot ready.
The world seems to tilt on its axis, changing everything about the path ahead that I so carefully planned.
Maybe I can tell her one more lie, make her think she’s wrong. But I can’t even breathe, let alone form a sentence to convince her otherwise.
Frankly, I don’t want to gaslight or toy with her, not when she’s confronting me head-on. I’m not a coward.
The plans will shift, and we’ll adapt.Together.
With every second that passes, I thaw out, coming back into myself more and more, perhapsmorethan ever before.
I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to keep the parts of my alternate persona separate in front of her. I don’t have to watch every glance or move I make, censor my words depending on who I am at the time—Bates, the hockey player she hates, or the masked man she’s falling for.
A switch flicks inside of me, the two parts combining into one.
Possession floods my veins in a way I didn’t know was possible, and suddenly, I realize that the mask wasn’t only bringing a side of me out to play; it was also keeping that version of myself—which has always been there, lurking beneath the surface—in its cage.
She sees it—that moment.
The shift in my stare, the straightening of my posture and shoulders. The shields coming down and the merging of our worlds, the one that only existed in private and the other that now stands before her.
Her confidence wavers as she rocks back on her heels, swaying ever so slightly. But she holds her ground, not backing away or averting her gaze.
There’s no point in continuing the facade.
