Her skin flushed, remembering it all. Their shoulders barely touched against the door. Yet the slightest brush made even the walls feel as if they were shifting closer. His eyes found hers. The comforting shade of brown darkened.
In one sure movement, he turned, surrounding her so entirely, and Kallia’s breath caught. A sliver of distance lingered between them, questioning, before he took her hand and dropped his head by hers. “Good morning,” he whispered, and she could hear his smile. “How did you sleep last night?”
Not well. The worst, most restless night of sleep she’d ever had. But as his jaw scraped against her cheek, she’d never been more awake. More aware. His knee knocked right by hers, his hand spreading her fingers against the door. Last night he’d been bolder, but today, he was patient. Waiting for her to turn her chin up and meet him halfway.
Remember what I said.
She flinched right as her hand found Demarco’s waist, fisting the warm shirt fabric, all of a sudden cold.
“What’s the matter?”
Kallia forced her face away from his. No more distractions, no more pretending everything was all right. If she looked, she’d forget what she came here to do. And she couldn’t, this time. No matter the consequence, she needed to get him away. Away from Jack.
He wasn’t safe.
“Kallia.”
Jack’s voice whispered its way into her thoughts while Demarco’s was at her ear.
Her eyes shut.
“You were right. Before.” Her voice droned heavily, in line with the script in her head. “When you said you were a judge and I was a contestant.”
Little by little, his face fell. “What do you mean?”
“Technically, you’re my mentor. How would it look if…” They already had the answer to that question. Her insides gripped tightly with each new breath, and she broke. “I don’t want that. Don’t want any of this.”
“Wait.”
Demarco grasped at her elbow, enough to stop her from pulling open the door.
“Is this about the paper?”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“About us, the article from the paper…” When she gave no sign of recognition, even more disbelief carved into his expression. He stepped back, spearing a hand into his hair. “Then where is this coming from?”
“From you.”
“Before. That was before—” His lips flattened into a hard line. “What I said before … things have changed.”
“Nothing has changed. We’re still in one big game, playing different parts. This will never work if we want to win.”
“Why not?” Doubt crossed his face in shadows. “I thought last night … you felt it, too, didn’t you?”
Kallia bit the inside of her cheek, the sharp pain masking the knife in her chest. She didn’t think this would hurt so much. She’d withheld information from him before, about her past. About Jack. But she’d never lied like this. To hurt him.
“We’ve been working closely together for some time. A lot has been building between us. It happens a lot in show business.”
“Oh, I know, Kallia. And trust me.” His jaw worked. “This doesn’t feel like show business.”
Steady, she told herself. Breathe.
Remember what I said.
“Maybe for you.” She coolly tossed back her hair over her shoulder. “If I felt the same, maybe this would be different. But I can’t afford to lose focus. If I drop my guard for one minute, I may be the next to go.”
Demarco shook his head in disbelief. Refusal. She meant in the competition, but an accident could be headed her way all the same. At this point, no one was safe. Jack was right about that. She’d need all of her wits about her if the worst came to collect, and Demarco could not stand in that crossfire.
“Regardless, I know what I’ve always wanted,” she added quietly. “And what I want is to win. That’s what I came here for.”
They were farther apart now. Kallia had moved from the door without realizing, backing away from him. Far enough to see the silence wedging deeper between them, turning distance into a feeling. A wall.
On the other side, everything in Demarco changed. His stance straightened, face closed. Like her, he could wear a mask well and at will. “If that’s the way you feel.”
Without another word, he turned and exited without a good-bye. Kallia’s chest squeezed at the sight: his back, before the door shut behind him. The hike in his shoulders, the quickness of his steps.
A burning prickled at the backs of her eyes, almost causing her to laugh in disbelief.