"Just thirsty."
I grabbed a bottle from the fridge, trying to leave quickly. But he stood up, blocking the doorway.
"Lily," his voice was low. "We should talk about this."
"About what?"
"About the way you look at me."
My heart stopped. "I don't look at you any way."
He stepped closer. I could smell his cologne, expensive and suffocating.
"You're a terrible liar," he smiled. "Just like your mother."