Playing Perfect

09. Nostalgie

09. Nostalgie

Nostalgia

Alice sat on the edge of her bed, her makeup wiped off and embarrassment flooding her body.

Cauley watched her from across the room, his arms folded over his chest. Heat crept up her neck beneath his gaze. All was silent except for the quiet hum of piano and violin came from downstairs.

She was scared to break it, but she knew she had to.

"Cauley," she started, the tense atmosphere finally becoming too much. "Sorry... about all that. Can we just pretend it never happened?"

His expression remained neutral, his jaw set, and eyes narrowed. "If you want."

She paused. She wasn't expecting him to agree so easily. She cleared her throat and straightened her dress over her knees.

"Well, I'd better get downstairs." She let out an awkward chuckle. "What kind of hostess am I? Running to my room for a sob?"

"Always the perfect hostess, aren't you?"

She furrowed her brow at his sudden condescending tone. "It's not like I have a choice."

"Don't you, though?" He quirked a brow at her.

"I—" Alice huffed in defiance. "I don't, Cauley. And besides, it really is none of your business."

"So, you keep reminding me."

"And yet you never seem to get the message."

"Oh, I got the message, Travers." Finn's lip twitched up in a small smirk. "I just choose to ignore it."

"You're incorrigible," Alice spat. Annoyance stirred in her chest like she'd swallowed lava. Where had that Finn who hugged her on the floor as she cried gone?

She'd forgotten how good he was at pretending. At slipping into his old persona, like a fresh t-shirt each morning.

He cocked his head to the side, regarding her almost lazily. "No one's going to notice you're missing."

She rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tongue like venom. "Ouch, Cauley. That hurt."

"Oh, you and me both know that's all we want." He shook his head, a challenging smirk on his lips. "To disappear without anyone noticing."

He really liked to act as if he knew everything—as if he was always right. It infuriated her.

Alice swallowed, calculating her response carefully. "No one's forcing me to—"

"Be here, yeah. We've had this conversation before, Travers," he said. "For such a goodie-two-shoes, you really lie a lot."

Her mouth opened, ready to yell, to insult, but she snapped it shut. That was what he was looking for. She turned away, glancing down at her nails. Assessing her rings, like Finn wasn't even in the room with her.

"Hey." She shrugged coolly. "It's high society. Everything's a lie here."

He laughed, surprised at her response, and sent a one shoulder shrug. "You're right, Travers. I'll give you that."

She smiled at his laughter, feeling her shoulders relax, the tension vanishing from the room. She had to admit, it was nice having someone there who could understand—understand what it felt like to constantly play the role of the perfect child, greeting guests, and making small talk to keep your reputation.

Someone she could lightly complain to without hearing the same lecture of 'I'd kill to be in your position' or 'you should be grateful' over and over again. Like she didn't already feel guilty enough.