The admission leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
She uncrosses her arms. Her hands drop to her sides. "Last night I said you were scared of the wordequal."
"I am."
"Good." She tilts her head. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know. The man who has a play for everything. Who handles Marco and his father and a hockey program and a secret relationship without breaking a sweat. You don't know."
"I don't know what to do about you. That's the problem."
"I'm the problem."
"You've always been the problem."
"Because I see too much."
"Because you see everything and you never look away. You stand there with your notebook and your chin up, and I can't get past the look in your eyes when you've already figured out what I'm going to do next."
"Maybe I have."
"You think you know me."
"I think I've been watching you since I was fourteen."
The back of my neck goes rigid. The same year I looked at her in a hallway and couldn't stop looking. Fourteen. Her notebook. My mouth. The word I gave her.
"I think I know when you're angry and when you're performing angry. I think I know the difference between your press room face and the face you made in your kitchen when your hand stopped an inch from my jaw." She takes a step toward me. "I think you came here because Cole asked, and I think you stayed because you wanted to. I think you've been looking for a reason to stand in my apartment for weeks and the phone calls gave you one."
My jaw hardens.
"I think you bought my tea because you wanted something of mine in your kitchen. You said goodnight using my first name because you wanted to hear how it sounded in your mouth. And you're standing three feet from me right now with your jaw locked because you want to touch me again and you're furious that you want it."
The ache in my teeth spreads.
She sees it. Of course she sees it. She reads me the way she reads a press room, finds the tell, follows the pressure, and keeps pulling.
"Stop talking," I say.
"Make me."
"Maya."
"Make. Me."
"You are the most infuriating person I have ever met in my life."
"I know. And you still bought my tea."
"I bought tea."
"You bought my tea. My brand. My specific—"
I close the distance. One hand on the counter behind her.
She tips her chin up, eyes locked on mine, still talking.
