Home > Books > Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(49)

Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(49)

Author:Lauren Asher

I crack up, enjoying how he gets all riled up. At least he comes from a good place.

“You sound really uncool right now. No one under seventy even talks like that.” I pat his hand to ease his anxiety. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ve defined very clear boundaries.” I draw an invisible line in front of me.

I exclude how I think Liam is the hottest guy in F1. That would go against everything I set up so far, including our line in the sand that we’ve tiptoed around for two months.

“Anyway, tell me about this lady the gossip mags report you’ve been seeing.”

My dad has never quieted down as fast as he does. Ladies and gentlemen, my evasion technique comes off flawless, one so good lawyers would clap about it. His eyes dart across the menu, engrossed in whatever breakfast choice he needs to make.

Bingo. My dad’s totally dating again, and I want to know who.

“Don’t believe everything you read or hear for that matter.” His eyes catch mine.

Interesting words coming from him. I give him a pointed look.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “All right, I understand.”

“Lay off the inquisition, would you? I’m twenty-two going on fifty since I have the personality of a grandma. You don’t need to worry about me so much.”

“You’ll always be my baby girl. But I’ll work on it, just for you.” My dad gives me one of his classic goofy smiles.

We clink our mimosas together.

I offer a genuine smile. “I’ll toast to that.”

We laugh together when I knock over my glass.

“I’m glad some things never change.” Dad cleans up my spiked juice with a cloth napkin.

“Did you know Niagara Falls isn’t close to here? Maya told me, and I’m disappointed I missed that tiny detail.”

“You missed a six-hour driving detail? I’m shocked.” Liam mockingly scoffs as he covers his heart.

He looks rather normal in jeans and a T-shirt. Dare I say he appears domestic, all barefoot while reading a book in a chair off to the side of his bed. I lie on his comfy mattress, pretending to scroll through my phone while I sneak glances here and there. Somehow, he makes reading look sexy.

“Why are you reading A Game of Thrones? Can’t you just watch the TV show like everyone else?”

Liam turns to the next page. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“What’s so wrong with what I said?” I continue, wanting to distract myself from him licking his finger before flipping the page.

Liam stares at me like I asked if I could have his first-born child. “Everyone knows the books are better than the movies or TV shows.”

“Says who?”

“Says everyone who reads books!”

I feel some sense of relief as Liam and I fall into our usual casualness. We both ignore last week’s late-night phone call. Well, more like I’ve ignored Liam every time he mentioned it until he eventually gave up. Turns out, I can evade topics like he overtakes cars. Thank God he can’t read my mind. Liam keeps to himself, acting like a perfect gentleman and friend. He gives me exactly what I want. Except I know his dirty secrets, like how his voice sounded when he came while getting me off.

I snap back into the conversation. “Okay, so you really love books. Got it. So, Niagara Falls is really that far away? I’m still disappointed.”

“Whoa. You lasted a whole minute without bringing up your failed plan again. I’m surprised because you’re usually so well-versed in your little ideas.” Liam’s playful smile pulls at my heart. Stupid, stupid heart. I thought we were in this together. You fickle bitch, acting all excited after one incident of phone sex.

“I think Google lied to me. It’s the only explanation. Maybe someone on Reddit hacked my feed and messed with my head. You know, kind of like how our phones show ads about stuff we talk about aloud but never search for. Talk about freaky.” Call me a nut, but the one time I talk about kayaks to a friend, ads popped up on my phone for a sporting store all week.

“The conspiracies. Do you think they accessed your Pinterest boards? That would be a total breach of secrecy and the worst kind of hack.”

My eyes bug out of my head. I sit, searching for my phone somewhere within the thick comforter. “What do you know about Pinterest?” I whisper. My Pinterest is my diary, not meant for the eyes of people like him.

“The secrets are in the boards.” His attention turns back to his book as he avoids eye contact with me, a smug smile displayed on his face. I want to wipe it right off of him.

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