The silence in the car wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but it gave Alex too much room to turn Ethan's last words over and over in her head. Somewhere between the apartment and wherever they were headed, whatever game they'd both agreed to play at had quietly stopped feeling like a game at all.
Something else nagged at her too, smaller but persistent. His voice tonight sounded different than it had that first evening at the hotpot restaurant — deeper, steadier, missing the bright, camera-ready warmth she associated with every interview she'd ever watched him give. It reminded her, uncomfortably, of a voice she'd heard exactly once before, in the dark, on a balcony she still hadn't figured out how to stop thinking about.
She glanced at him, driving in silence, and decided she was imagining things. He was an actor. Actors had public voices and private ones. This was probably just what he sounded like when he wasn't performing for anyone.
