A R I A
I don't mean to storm out. I really don't. But something about the way he looked at me—like I was some fragile thing that might c***k if he said too much—set me off.
I pace down the hall, arms crossed tightly against my chest. My boots echo against the polished wood floor, each step sharper than the last. Behind me, I hear Lucian's voice, low and clipped. "Aria. Wait."
I don't stop.
He catches up anyway.
"Aria—"
"Don't," I snap, spinning around to face him. "Don't do that thing where you act like you didn't mean to push my buttons when you very clearly did."
His expression twists—equal parts frustration and something I can't name. "You're unbelievable."
"Thanks."
"No—I mean, seriously. One minute you're opening up to me, and the next you're acting like I'm the enemy again.
