Rebirth Snatching Back My Stolen Luck novel Chapter 53

“But thanks to a professor, I discovered comics… and then the urge to create one myself.”

“The rest, as they say, is history.”

Normally, I kept those details to myself. But Dean–ever since we’d met–had been an exception.

I always found myself telling him things I could never tell other people.

“You seem to really like it,” he said after another pause.

“Of course.” I glanced at the passing scenery, smiling brightly. “I’ve never been more in love.”

“Then why did you tell me yesterday that figuring out what you like might be harder than you thought?”

His tone… wasn’t accusatory or suspicious, but there was something there. Something I didn’t like.

I pulled my gaze from the window to him. “So you’re suspecting I’m posing as Longing Bird, aren’t you?”

No wonder he’d seemed distant earlier at Freya’s office. I’d thought it was the presence of others, but now I knew bet-

ter.

He gave me a sidelong glance, calm as ever. “I’m not suspecting you. I never have, and I never will. I just thought the gap between yesterday’s clueless self and today’s enlightened self was… too big. That’s why we’re having this con- versation.”

“Besides, I don’t treat people I truly suspect like this, Elise.”

Something in me deflated, like a punched balloon.

Maybe it was the way he said he’d never suspect me. Maybe it was him calling me Elise. Either way, the rising anger in me dulled.

The annoyance, however, remained.

“Oh, really?” My tone dripped with sarcasm. “Then I guess I should thank you for your mercy.”

“If there’s a misunderstanding, we can clear it up. No need to get confrontational,” he said, his tone helpless.

Apparently, he’d never read the “never argue with a woman” quotes.

Fine. I’d show him why they exist.

“What if it isn’t a misunderstanding?” I asked, a defiant look in my eyes. “What if I really am impersonating Longing Bird? What would you do then?”

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Chapter 53

I didn’t expect him to chuckle at the question, and then say something completely unrelated, or so I thought.

“Ever heard the saying that whether a man is good or bad depends largely on the woman he’s closest to?”

I frowned, confused as to what he meant. “Huh?”

He caught on and chuckled again, his eyes on the road. “Then think about who the woman I’m currently closest to is.”

Following his meaning, I quickly realized what he was implying.

Was he saying that if it was me, even if it wasn’t a misunderstanding, he’d cover it up for me?

I glanced at his profile and muttered under my breath, “What a flirt.”

He somehow managed to turn a tense conversation into one with romantic undercurrents.

From the smile tugging at his lips, I knew he’d heard.

I turned back to the window, refusing to feed his ego–until another thought struck me and I faced him again.

“Freya wouldn’t appreciate that saying. She might think you’re calling her a femme fatale.”

His smile faltered–exactly as I wanted.

“Why are you bringing up Freya out of nowhere?” The car slowed as he turned to look at me.

I widened my eyes in mock innocence. “She’s the woman closest to you, isn’t she?”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “If that’s what you think, then so be it.”

I shot him a flat look. So irritating.

A moment later, he laughed outright, clearly amused. “If you want to know about the relationship between us, you can just ask instead of circling around it.”

“Freya, Callum, and I are childhood friends. We go way back.”

“But there’s nothing between she and I,” He added casually, “If anything, Callum might be interested in her.”

I blinked. “What?”

Callum, interested in Freya?

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