The Wicked Games we play for love
“Jane who? From where?”
“Jane Doe.”
For one long second, silence hangs heavily between them as he slowly lowers his glass, glaring across the table at her.
Then, suddenly, Troy starts giggling. Her voice cuts right through the dead silence. Inside, she braces for his anger, but instead, Dorian simply stares at her until something finally cracks through his expression, too.
His eyes crease up. Then, a real smile breaks through. And then he laughs with her.
Leaning back into his chair, he tips his head backward while he laughs. Closing his eyes, he mutters to himself, “Well, fuck.”