He snorts. “This isn’t a five-star restaurant, Jas.” He throws me a judgmental look. “I know what you’re used to, but you’re getting the real world here.”
I have to physically bite my tongue to stop from saying something mean.
“I’m just saying, these veggies would go amazing with some meat,” I suggest.
“The meat’s in the fridge,” he replies curtly.
Meat. Is he talking about that deer he shoved in the freezer?
I place down my fork. I’ve lost my appetite. “Okay.”
“I would’ve prepped it for cooking …” He tilts his head. “But something was in the way.”
He throws me a daring look.
“Me?” I reply.
He takes another bite of his potatoes without saying a word, but I know an accusation when I hear one.
I fold my arms. “Well, excuse me for inconveniencing you by being trapped in the room you put me in.”
“Apology accepted.”
My eyes widen, and my blood begins to boil so violently I swear I’m about to chuck this fork at his goddamn eyes.
And that smirk that follows … oh, my God, insufferable.
“This isn’t funny,” I say.
“It is to me,” he jests.
“Why?”
He slams down his fork, making me jolt up and down. “Because for the first time in a fucking long time, I’m not the only one trapped.”
It takes me a while to continue breathing normally again.
“What do you mean?”
He sighs out loud, gets up, and brings his plate to the kitchen, ignoring my question, which I don’t like one bit. He’s avoiding me, I can tell.
“Tell me,” I say, following his footsteps as he begins to clean up.
But he refuses to answer, and it pisses me off.
“C’mon, why won’t you tell me?”
“Why do you care?” he suddenly replies.
I’m momentarily at a loss for words. “I … I …”
I don’t actually know why I care. I just … do.
“I don’t,” I lie, sitting back in my chair. “I’m just curious.”
“So you can use it against me?”
I frown. “Like I could use anything against you,” I say. “You’re the one keeping me a prisoner, not the other way around.”