"You should stop projecting."
Trevor's breath hitched.
"What?"
Maya exhaled as if she was genuinely tired of him, as if she was speaking to a child who just didn't get it.
"You're projecting, Trevor," she said, tapping her finger lightly in the air before pulling it back. "This whole spiel of yours… telling me how guys think, how I don't see things clearly, how I'm the one being used…"
She let out a quiet hum. "It's all just a reflection of what you think about yourself, isn't it?"
Trevor stiffened.
His stomach twisted violently, a feeling too close to exposure.
Maya leaned back in her seat again, tapping her fingers against the table rhythmically.
"You assume every guy wants something from me," she mused. "Because that's how you think."
Trevor's jaw locked. "That's not—"
"You think Astron is using me," Maya continued, ignoring him entirely. "Because that's what you would do if you were in his position."
