Perfect Lie(18)

“I learned all I need to know about life. I don’t want to waste another second of my time.”

“Wow. You’re cynical.” I laughed, but I got it and couldn’t judge.

He leaned back on his palms, stretching out, his stomach soaking up the first rays of daylight. I tried not to look, but it was nearly impossible.

“I’m not giving up or anything,” he said.

“I’m not judging…” My voice trailed off as I breathed in the fresh morning air tainted by Abel’s smoke. There was nothing to really say. Our topic was too deep for strangers and the first light of dawn.

“Did you run from your problems?” I asked him. “Is that why you chose Florida?”

He sighed loudly, and I felt like I may have crossed the line, but I was honestly curious as to what could make one of the perfect people be so melancholy.

“I didn’t run. I didn’t choose.” His eyes met mine, and I realized he wasn’t comfortable with the direction our casual conversation had taken.

The sun was out from behind the wisps of clouds, and I already could tell today was going to be unbearably hot.

“You’re stubborn.” I sighed as my eyes fell closed, and I relished in the warmth of the sun on my face. My eyes snapped open with Abel’s laughter.

“Like looking in a mirror, ain’t it?”

I rolled my eyes, but I knew he was right. I was sarcastic and rude. Just add those to the list of my many flaws.

“Hungry?” he asked, and looked my way as I closed my eyes again, angling my head to the sky.

I nodded. I was starving but didn’t want to bring it up. It wasn’t my house, and I didn’t think I could hold down cookies for breakfast.

“Let’s go.” He stood and held out his hand for me. I slid my fingers in his, hoping I wasn’t pink cheeked from his touch. I let him pull me effortlessly to my feet, and I brushed off the bottom of my skirt. He gestured to an old black pickup beside the house, and I followed because I felt like if I went another hour without nourishment, I might wither away and die. I was a touch dramatic.

I slid into the passenger seat as Abel got in on the driver’s side and pulled down the visor, causing a set of keys to drop into his lap. He shoved one of them into the ignition and twisted his wrist, and the truck to rumbled to life.

The radio was static, and he turned the knob a few times before an old rock ballad blared through the speakers. We rolled down our windows to let out some of the stuffy heat trapped in the cab, and I angled my head toward the open window, loving the wind blowing through my hair.

“This thing gonna make it?”

Abel laughed. “It’s like the house.”

“I get it.” I held up my hand. “It’s old and needs love or paint,” I joked, and he sighed loudly as we picked up speed.

It was a brand‐new day, and all I wanted was to forget any day before it. Abel didn’t speak, and I was comfortable in his silence. He was a mystery, and I was curious but had to be careful not to reveal myself. Being one‐dimensional was far less complicated.

We drove for only a few minutes before we hit a strip near the highway with a couple of gas stations and fast food joints. We pulled into a drive‐through, and Abel turned down the radio so we could order. I wanted to fill the silence, but I was at a loss for things to say. Thankfully a voice rang out over the speaker next to his window, and he looked to me for my order. I asked for a breakfast sandwich and hash browns, and he ordered the same for himself.

“Wait! I should get something for Trish. She’s going to be starving.” I knew she hadn’t eaten since before we’d arrived at the old house in the woods.

Abel smiled and turned back to the speaker. “Make that three.”

The voice rattled off a total, and we pulled up to the first window.

“What about your friends?” I tried to keep my eyes from lingering on his bare chest as we waited for our turn to pay.

“They can take care of themselves. They’re grown‐ups.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but I realized I didn’t have my purse, and now this stranger was going to have to buy my meal.

“I’ll pay you as soon as we get back to the house, I swear.”

His lip upturned into that delicious smirk, and his dimples settled deep into his cheeks. “You don’t have to do that.” We pulled up to the window, and he dug out his wallet from his back pocket.

“I can take care of myself,” I said. “I’m a grown‐up.”

His grin widened, and he flashed me that heart‐stopping smile as he shook his head, but he didn’t respond. I watched as he grabbed a twenty from a thick stack of bills in his wallet, and the realization dawned on me.