Perfect Lie(16)

His long fingers wrapped around my arms, and he held me firmly in place. “Tonight you do.”

My eyes focused on his lips, and the smell of cookies, toothpaste, and smoke blew over my face. My tongue ran over my lower lip, and I could taste the sin. It was thick and heavy in the air, and it made my head swim as I gazed into Abel’s ocean‐colored eyes. I wondered whether he tasted it too, whether his heart was pounding in his chest. I wondered most of all if it was artificial—a haze of adoration brought on by the pills. It had been so long since I’d wanted that; I didn’t trust my own thoughts, but it felt too good to care.

“Do you want me to call your boyfriend?” His words broke the spell, and I looked up into the endless depths of his eyes and slowly shook my head. “Fuck. He’s going to be pissed.” He stood up and ran his hand through his hair, but I still felt the lingering tingle from his touch and the goose bumps that crept down my arms.

“He won’t be,” I said so quietly that I wasn’t sure he could hear me, but he nodded once, and I swallowed hard. There was no boyfriend; he wasn’t that anymore. He was the only one who ever cared, and now I couldn’t see him, and it was all my fault. The heavy ache in my chest overpowered the high, and I want to scream; I wanted to break something.

“Then he’s just as fucking stupid as I am.” Abel tugged at his sandy‐blond hair, and I smiled as I gazed his green‐blue eyes. He was like a walking slice of summer.

I wanted to defend Brock, place the blame where it should be, but I couldn’t. Doing so would mean explaining, and explaining wasn’t how I coped. I coped with secrets and lies and fake smiles.

“He’s in Mississippi.” That was the only truth I could offer. He was there and I was here, and that was all anyone needed to know.

Abel sat back down next to me, his arms resting on his knees as he shook his head.

“I’m fine,” I told him.

His eyes met mine, and he laughed but without humor. “You’re trouble.” His hand rubbed over my hair like I was a bratty little sister, and I sunk further into the numbness so I wouldn’t have to wonder why that bothered me so much.

“I should check on Trish.” I started to stand up, but Abel grabbed my hand and looped his fingers in mine then pulled me back down.

“You don’t want to go in there. You’ll be scarred for life.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen her fucking guys before.” The bite in my words shocked me, but I was sick of being treated like her sidekick.

Abel laughed, deep and throaty, his body vibrating beside mine as he pulled his hand from mine. “You’re nothing like her.”

I don’t know why his words offended me, because it was the truth. I was nothing like Trish.

“You don’t even know me.” I stood, and this time he didn’t grab my hand. He just sat there, staring at the moon, as I disappeared inside.

Trish was pinned under Adam, her shirt pushed up and his removed. She was panting and moaning as the music made the thin walls vibrate.

The other guy ran his hands through his hair, his eyes closed, just feeling. It was an odd scene, and I wanted to look away, but I was curious. What made her so popular? Sure, I got more attention now than I ever did in high school, but it paled compared to her. I’d always be in that shadow.





Chapter Four


Liar, Liar



“You look good enough to eat,” the guy on the couch slurred, and I realized he caught me staring at Trish and Adam. I swayed slightly, feeling tired but electrified.

He stood and walked slowly toward me, but it wasn’t sexy. He reminded me of the killer in scary movies who stalks his prey, walking, plotting, always a step away.

“Gross,” I mumbled, but my words didn’t offend him. He took another step, and I looked down at Trish. She was oblivious to the somersaults inside my stomach. Even if she were remotely coherent, she probably would make fun of me as usual.

I took a step back and rocked on my heels as I bumped into a hard chest. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Abel. I smelled the smoky cologne all around me.

“Knock it off, Sean, or fucking leave.”

Dirtbag Sean raised his hands like it was an honest mistake and backed up to the couch, falling back as his legs hit the edge.

“At least someone wants to kiss me,” I mumbled angrily, the stab of rejection from Abel still in the forefront of my mind.

“Come on.” Abel slipped his hand in mine and pulled me toward the stairs. I hesitated, pulling away as dizziness swirled my thoughts like a tornado. Abel slipped his hand under my knees and lifted me like a child as he ascended the stairs.