Rory took the picture, but he didn’t make the same mistake twice, and only cast a passing glance over it before setting it face down on his bedside table. “There are other pictures in my room, Ben,” Rory replied, his voice equally calm. He gestured to his desk, then to the cork board above it, where various pictures of his family and friends were hung. “There are my brothers. There’s Mallorie. There’s your sister,” he gave Ben a pointed look, “there’s you. If you’re going to operate on the premise that I’m in love with someone just because I have their picture on my desk, then I’m clearly in love with a whole lot of people. Soft evidence, Ben. Try again.”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, their back-and-forth might actually have been a little fun. But there was too much at stake for Rory to be too lenient. Looking back on this, he’d think that he could’ve been a little nicer, a little easier. But now, in the thick of things... Rory’s defenses were firmly in place. If Ben really did know when he was lying, then he’d already lost this game. But damned if Rory wasn’t going to try to at least figure out how he’d lost it.