Page 47 of The Villain

“Password,” he repeats.

“0505.”

He glances at me like he knows it’s the date my father died. I don’t know why I used it. The new iPad came a few days after the accident. It was the first thing I thought of as I was setting it up. He punches in the code and starts to look through my apps.

“What do you expect to find?”

“One never knows.” He swipes through afew things before opening WhatsApp. As soon as he does, I see the slew of messages as the app catches up. “Who’s Jared?” he asks.

“Give me that!” I try to snatch it from him, but he holds it out of reach and scans the messages.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

I stand on the footrest of the stool to try to grab the iPad. “He’s in my class. Give it to me!”

“He’s asking how you’ve been. I guess he missed you. He wants to know if you want to get coffee, and he’ll catch you up on what you missed.” He grins. “I’ll let him know you’re neither interested nor available.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Unless you’re interested, of course?” he asks, looking at Jared’s profile picture. “Not that it matters. You’re not available.” He gives me a grin then returns his attention to the iPad. “Someone should tell him you’re out of his league.”

My mouth is open to respond, but that last part makes me stop. Does he think I’m pretty?

No, Dummy. He thinks you look like a moth.

He switches the iPad off and sets it aside. I realize he’s waiting for me to say something smart probably, but he’s managed to unbalance me yet again.

“You’re such an asshole,” is all I come up with, which is poor, I know.

“So you’ve said.” He lifts out my sketchbook. “You draw?”

“That’s private.” I take it. That he lets me have.

“They’re actually good, Moth.”

“If only I cared what you think, Reaper,” I tell him.

When he raises his eyes from the notebook to me, I see the tick in his jaw. He doesn’t like being called Reaper which is surprising. I guess I wouldn’t think he’d care.

I hold my breath and wait for his reaction, but a moment later, it’s gone. He’s schooled himself to give nothing away. It’s the opposite of me. I feel my face burn up because I remember how he looked at me last night. How he held me. How he felt inside me.

Shit. I need to not think about any of those things.

I try to focus on eating although it’s hard to get food down.

“Is Michael right?” I ask, needing to get back on solid ground and that means me on one side, Cassian on the other.

“About what?” he asks, but I know he knows what I’m asking.

I swallow, but force myself to continue. At least it’ll stop him looking at me that way. “Did you kill your brother?”

He clenches his jaw so hard, it must hurt. “Tread lightly, Moth. Remember what I told you. My patience only goes so far.”

Tread lightly. I should heed his warning, but I’ve never been known to do what Ishoulddo so we have a staring contest which I lose. It’s a relief, though, to look away.

“Finished?” he asks the instant I do.

“Yes.” I slip off my stool without looking at him.