EPOV
She's in my room wearing a white button-down that looks nothing like her and a cardigan over top of it. Her cheeks are flushed, a delicious shade of pink coats her perfectly, creamy skin as she gazes at me.
"I lie a lot." I sigh and cave in. Her wide, brown eyes have that fucking effect on me.
"What do you mean?" She asks, cocking her head to the side, a little frown disgracing her face.
"I'm not an alcoholic. I just like a drink or two."
"Then why are you in AA? Why are you volunteering to be my sponsor?" She really doesn't get it, but it's okay. Because this lie doesn't make any fucking sense. I can't tell her why I'm in AA, why I want to get close to her.
"I had a moment of weakness. I drank a lot, and blacked out. I saw some posters for a meeting and I jumped on it. When I got there, I realized I don't have a fucking problem and the people in there are just pathetic and depressed. It's a fucking cult, Doe."
I watch as her eyes turn dark and angry. She's fucking pissed at me, leering, burning with anger that makes her blush even more noticeable and her chest rises and falls with every calming breath she takes.
"Fuck you, Masen." She snaps at me and stands, putting the coffee she barely even touched on the table behind me. I jump up and see an opportunity there. I'm not here to keep dancing around her in circles. I'm here to fucking cross it off my to-do list, because I'm paid to be here.
"You can't fucking say that to people." She continues, shrugging on her parka, turning away from me. But I don't let her.
"I'm sorry, Doe. Did I hit a nerve, there? Are you a pathetic, depressed alcoholic? Because you don't strike me like the type. You said so yourself, your friends wanted you in that meeting."
She bites her lip and her nose scrunches up adorable as she tries to come up with insults. Somehow, silence is worse than being showered in curse words. I step in front of her, blocking the door and lean against the wall with one arm while the other hand searches in my pocket and finds the cool handle of my folded knife.
"Then exactly what fucking type do you take me for, Masen? Enlighten me, please. Seems like you think you know every fucking thing about everybody, anyway." Her voice drips venom, but I can't help but think how incredibly hot she looks right now. She looks flustered, worked up beyond comprehension.
"The type that runs and seeks solace in booze and whatnot, because she doesn't have anything else." I bark at her. Little Doe stays still, frozen as her eyes blink softly, long lashes resting against her cheeks as she stares at the floor. I take this moment of weakness to move in on her, get closer until my fingertips brush at the curl that falls into her face. Soft dark hair that matches the ink on my hand.
"That, Little Doe, is why I wanted to be your fucking sponsor. You looked so out of place, so lonely, so fucking sad that I want to help you." I sigh. It's a double-edged blade because I mean what I say and still I feel like I'm lying. "You're too fucking beautiful to be this sad, baby."