Lander smiles. “You are a good manipulator, Bell.” He impatiently brushes a piece of lint from his jeans. “And I feel like you know me a little better than I’m comfortable with.”

“I know your dark side,” I say gently. “I’ve seen it . . . and it doesn’t bother me.” I scoot in a little closer. “I like it, Lander.”

It’s a risky angle. I’m not so much explaining my behavior as I am trying to distract him by offering him something he truly wants. But he’s buying into it. I can feel it as he spreads his fingers wide under mine.

“I should kick you out of here,” he says quietly.

“I know,” I whisper and lace my fingers into his.

“You had to go through my stuff to get that drawing.”

“Yes,” I admit. “I was just thinking about what Jessica had said about you and anagrams and then thought about the doodle you were making. I just had to see it.”

“You shouldn’t go through my stuff.”

I nod. “It won’t happen again.”

Again he scoffs, and this time it’s for good reason.

“I need to ask you something,” I add.

He meets my eyes, and I see something there, a dare, a spark of confidence . . . and maybe . . . maybe a bit of mischief?

But it all disappears in an instant as his face hardens and his voice turns gruff. “Let me guess. You want to know why I acted like everything was fine before if I didn’t think it was. You’re wondering why I’ve been bothering with you at all.”

I bite my lower lip and nod.

“I acted like everything was fine because you are a good actress, Bell. I kept thinking we would have this confrontation. I’d imagine slamming the door in your face. I thought I could turn the tables and that I could be the one to use you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because you’re so good at acting that what we have actually feels real. And sometimes . . . sometimes I’m a person who likes to pretend.”

I have to fight to keep my eyes from widening. I don’t want him to know that I understand exactly what he means. That I understand in a way that I can never share with him.

“The woman you think I’m pretending to be . . . maybe it’s the woman I am. Or at least maybe it’s the woman I can be if I just keep trying.”

His sigh is more dismissive than exacerbated. He simply doesn’t believe it. He raises his hand to my cheek, caresses it with his thumb. “Why are all the sinners so beautiful? Why can’t I fall for the angels instead of the warriors?”

“Because angels ask you to sacrifice too much.”