I like the quiet.
It’s peaceful. Tranquil. There’s no obnoxious music pouring out from next door or the smell of weed permeating the hallway.
“So, are we on?” Liam asks as I swing open the door and head into her building.
“For the bet?” I step inside first, letting Liam grab the door behind me. I’m not holding it open for him. I refuse to let him think there’s so much as a romantic gesture on my end happening, because there’s not.
“What else, sweetheart?”
There he goes again, calling me that pervasive nickname.
“I’m not your sweetheart.” I glare at him as we enter the elevator together.
He huffs under his breath. “Not yet.”
My eyes widen as I turn to face him in the elevator.
“Floor six.” Liam gestures for me to hit the button for Sophia’s floor.
I press six and glare at him. “What do you mean, not yet?” Heat licks my body, flooding every inch of me from head to toe. I can feel my heart race, like it wants to beat outside of my chest. It’s overwhelming.
Why does Liam Moretti have this effect on me?
A wry smile spreads across his face. “No reason.”
Glaring at him, I shove him farther away. “Keep your distance.” It’s a warning. I don’t need him trying anything, like kissing me.
Not that it wasn’t amazing.
But I do not need my heart entangled with him.
He’s definitely not the hero.
Not in my story.
Not in anyone’s.
Liam Moretti is the villain.
How do I know this?
Because I grew up alongside him at school, and no one changes from villain to hero.
Not in real life.
Only in books or movies.
But this isn’t a fairytale, and he’s not my Prince Charming. There’s no magical transformation waiting to happen here, no grand gesture that will rewrite everything that’s come before.
Liam Moretti remains exactly who he’s always been—a villain in my life, not a hero, and certainly not the person who will sweep in to save the day.
Liam holds his hands up in surrender. “I haven’t done anything.” There’s that smile and wry grin that makes my stomach do flip-flops. “Sweetheart.”
Fuck me, the man is trying to kill me.
Each breath is more pronounced, like gasping for oxygen and having a limited supply. Except I’ve never been claustrophobic, but the elevator ride is making me dizzy, and I back up against the wall, gripping the handle, using it to keep myself upright.
The room spins, but I refuse to cower to it or admit that I’m quite uncomfortable at the moment. It’s not from Liam per se. He hasn’t so much as touched me in the confined space.