20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Fifteen

"What?" My mouth drops open.

"I'm not Nail," he says, calmly.

"How?" I step back, pulling my hand away from his wrist.

"I never told you my name was Nail. You just started calling me that," he shrugs.

"But... but Alex was calling you that. So I thought... I knew it was your name!" I gesture wildly with my arms.

"It's not," he says with a low chuckle.

He chuckled?!

"Really? And you just remembered to tell me now? After I've been calling you Nail all this time?" My voice rises, furious. I feel stupid—used. What is he hiding? Why lie about his name?

"I know I should've told you earlier, but here I am, telling you now." He sits on the chair, like this is nothing.

"Tell me you're insane so I can stop arguing with you." I exhale, leaning against the wall.

"I am," he smirks.

Sure he is.

"Why did you lie about your name?"

"Because I didn't want random people knowing my real name."

"Why? Are you a thief?"

He laughs. Not just a laugh—he's enjoying this.

"Don't worry. The police will never find me." He laughs again.

WHAT?!

"What?" I shout.

"You bitch. Shut the hell up, I'm not a thief," he says calmly, like that's totally acceptable.

Did he just—?

So, he lies for weeks, hides his name, and I'm the bitch?

"What are you then?" I snap.

"What do you want from me? Stop yelling. If you don't believe me, you can leave. I'm not forcing you to stay here," he yells back.

Oh, so now he wants me gone? I was useful until I wasn't?

"Right. You got what you wanted, and now you're done with me, huh?"

He bursts out laughing. "Yeah, exactly. I'm in a gang, naive."

Okay, I'll let the "naive" and "bitch" slide for now. But only because I need answers.

"Fine. Give me an explanation. Everything." I demand, pointing at the bed. "Sit. Talk."

He nods, surprisingly obedient. "Okay. My name is Kyle."

"Kyle?" I blink.

"Don't interrupt," he warns.

I zip it and cross my arms.

"My father's a rich businessman. Which, surprise, means he has enemies—just like any powerful man does. We had a big fight right before I left Washington. I told him I was going to Florida for a couple of months, to get away. Somehow, one of his enemies found out about our fight. I figured someone might try to follow me, maybe send someone on the same flight."

"To...kill you?" I ask, wide-eyed.

"No, nothing that dramatic. Maybe someone just trying to get close, befriend me, learn things about me or my father."

"Oh." Okay, maybe that makes more sense. I was thinking James Bond, but this is more like corporate spy drama.

"So, I decided not to tell anyone anything about myself."

"Even Alex?"

"Alex? He's not my therapist, Twyla. I didn't owe him anything."

"Didn't you trust me?" I ask quietly, hoping—stupidly.

He doesn't answer.

My voice cracks. "Wait. You thought I was the one sent to spy on you?"

"Why not? You showed up out of nowhere. Sat next to me on the plane. Ended up sharing a room with me."

"But you saved me. If you thought I was dangerous, why help me?"

"I don't know." He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I wasn't sure. Sometimes I wondered why this weird little nerd kept chasing me around—but deep down, I knew you weren't lying. You're too honest. You can't fake that."

"Liar." My eyes sting. "If you really trusted me, you would've told me your name. I told you everything about me—my age, my country, my family. And I'm the one sleeping in a stranger's room. You. Don't talk to me about trust."

"Shhh." He raises a hand. "You didn't trust me either. Why would I open up to some random girl?"

"Because I deserved the truth," I growl. "But fine. Now you know more about me than I know about you."

"And you know more about me than anyone else here," he says. "I told you because I don't think you're a threat. I told you because I do trust you."

"Well, you told me a tiny piece, not everything." I stand, anger burning in my chest. "You say you trust me now, but it's too late."

"Goodnight, chick," he says casually.

I stop by the bathroom door, turning back. "Should I even believe you?"

He stretches on the bed and winks. "Up to you. But if you still want to call me Nail, I won't stop you. I'll just laugh."

Ugh.

I slam the door shut and lock it.

And now everything clicks. The weird look on the receptionist's face when I called him Nail. His smirks. His constant chuckling. He must've told her his real name when booking the room. I'm so freaking stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid Twyla. He thinks I'm just some nerdy girl who chased him across the ocean. A joke.

But now he's trusted me with this. Sort of. Maybe.

I stare at myself in the mirror. "Why does it even matter what he thinks?" I whisper.

He lied. That should be enough.

Still... damn him. When he winked, he looked hot. Like, insanely hot.

I laugh a little at my own reflection.

Stop it, Twi. You need sleep. You have to focus. Your parents are still missing. You're lost. You're not here for some hot, mysterious maybe-billionaire with trust issues.

Focus, Twi. Find Mom and Dad. Forget about Kyle. Or Nail. Or whatever his name is.