Space(52)

I lifted my eyes to hers and said, “Mona,” before considering the impulse.

That made her swallow, revived the alluring blush she’d worn earlier. Her long lashes fluttered like I’d blown dust in them. I watched her, riveted. She seemed to be working hard to remain calm, but not like she’d been inside my room, not with a feral kind of panic.

This was like before, outside of my door, when I’d caught her. She wasn’t freaked out, she was adorably agitated.

My instinct was to put Mona at ease. This instinct surprised me. I was determined to be uncompromising in my distrust of and disinterest in her. That was the goal. Thus, I didn’t understand this instinct. Therefore, I said nothing. Instead taking advantage of the opportunity to look my fill.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, drawing my eyes down to her hips. Mona DaVinci did not dress like her sister. All black, her clothes were somewhat baggy, loose, definitely not tight, leaving much to the imagination. Unashamed of my imagination, I licked my lips, wondering if she was still as fast of a swimmer now as she had been then.

Yanking my mind back from maddening memories of a certain white bikini, I lifted my attention to her face, a move necessary for self-preservation. She wore no makeup that I could see, and her hair was pulled back into a long braid. It was longer than before, several inches longer, and made me think of shiny, thick rope.

Mona dropped her gaze to the vicinity of the floor, but her voice was steady as she said, “There’s something you should know.”

I stared at her, at this exquisite face, this face I’d dreamt of and hated and longed for, and knew at once what she was going to say. I felt it in the vibrations of tension coming from her body, the set of her jaw, the dazed but resolute look in her eyes. I felt it in the absence of sound, the stillness, how even the dust seemed to be suspended.

I felt it in myself, how my muscles tightened, my breathing slowed, as though she still had that kind of power over me.

So, I laughed.

Mona’s gaze darted to mine, and I laughed harder at her obvious confusion, turning and finding a desk. I sat on the edge of it and faced her, clasping my hands together, one leg braced on the floor, the other dangling at the knee.

The bitterness returned and was powerful motivation, like last night when she’d offered her hand and introduced herself, assuming I’d been too stupid to discover her lies. Well, she’d been right about one thing. I had been stupid.

But I wasn’t stupid anymore.

“I wonder,” I said without thinking, still laughing lightly, my concern for her well-being overshadowed by the sour memory of her duplicity. I gave myself fully over to the anger. “I’ve always wanted to know, did she tell you I loved you?”

Mona flinched, her eyes bugging out of her head. “What?” she asked, the single word more breath than sound.

“When you two talked about it, after you switched places?” I waved my index and middle finger in front of me. “Did she tell you that I loved you? She tell you about that?”

She said nothing, her breaths coming faster, looking visibly stunned.

I laughed again, more of a light chuckle this time. “Was that part of the plan? Or why switch places for the week? I’ve always wondered.”

Like last night, Mona’s face was devoid of color. Staring at me, shell-shocked, eyes glassy.