Chapter 2My Cousin Stole My Face to Date a Professor

The Christmas holiday arrived right on schedule.

I was curled up on the sofa, peeling a tangerine, when my best friend, Tessa, sent me a screenshot. “Your cousin has some serious game.”

I opened it. Liam’s Instagram was still a shrine to my face, updated daily.

He had already used up the handful of photos I’d posted of myself. Not ready to give up, he’d somehow unearthed my high school senior portrait and posted it with a ridiculously sentimental caption: “Look how much I’ve changed.”

So when he said he’d “change his ways,” he meant changing his privacy settings to hide his stories from me.

I shot up from the sofa and stormed into the guest room, grabbing Liam by the ear. “You’re still stealing my pictures? Do you have a death wish?”

“Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped, clutching his ear dramatically. “Liv, perfect timing! He wants to FaceTime. Can you just take the call for me? Please? I’ll give you all my Christmas money.”

“In your dreams. You’re telling him the truth right now.”

“Liv, it’s Christmas! You want him to find out he’s been scammed by a dude on a holiday? How cruel is that?”

I landed a solid punch on his arm. “And you only realize you’re being cruel now?”

“Just a few more days, that’s all I need to get my rank. Then I’ll tell him I need to focus on school and break up with him.” He held up three fingers. “I swear, this is the last time.”

After an endless barrage of whining and begging, I finally, reluctantly, took the phone.

“Livvy? Merry Christmas.” The voice on the other end was a low, smooth baritone that sent an unexpected jolt straight through me.

This voice, designed for late-night fantasies, was making a heart I thought long-dormant stir with a faint, dangerous flutter.

“Hi…” I started, then realized my voice had climbed a few octaves higher than normal. I cleared my throat, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “Hi. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“So, Livvy, what do you want for Christmas?”

Hearing this, Liam sat bolt upright, grabbed his iPad, and swiped frantically until a picture of a new Nintendo Switch filled the screen.

He pointed at it, his eyes wide, making absurd pleading faces at me.

I gave him a calm, measured nod. Got it.

Then I turned back to the phone. “For the new year, I want a complete set of SAT prep books.”

Liam’s eyes widened in horror.

In their reflection, I could see his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

Nice try, you little con artist.

“Hmm? Why that?” the voice on the phone asked, a note of amusement in it.

“Because my SATs are coming up,” I said smoothly. “I need to focus on studying, so I won’t be able to play games with you anymore.”

“I see. Well, you definitely shouldn’t be gaming, then. If you ever run into a problem you can’t solve, you can still ask me.” His voice remained impossibly gentle.

“Okay, thank you,” I said politely, ended the call, and shoved the phone back into my stunned cousin’s hands.

“I’ll be checking your progress on those workbooks every month. And you’re transferring the money for them back to him—consider it your own educational expense. If you don’t, I’m telling your dad. Merry Christmas, little bro.”

I made my grand exit, leaving Liam standing there, on the verge of tears.