Perfect Lie(48)

“He’s kissing her.” His face pulled back an inch, putting our mouths closer to each other. “She’s moving against his hand.” He swallowed hard, and I stayed pinned against him, motionless, as I listened to the sounds of lovemaking, their moans deafening in the small space. “He’s taking off her panties and sliding them down her legs.”

My eyes closed as I was entranced by his voice, my mouth suddenly dry. I heard the clicking of the remote as Abel turned down the volume just as the female became more vocal in her pleasure. Abel’s hand slid a few inches up my thigh to the edge of the shorts I was wearing. “She’s spreading her legs for him, and he’s sliding between them. Her hands are undoing his jeans.”

My breathing grew ragged, and my fingers gripped his shirt collar. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” His face angled toward mine, and his breath blew over my lips as our foreheads pressed against each other’s. His hand slipped up and down the outside of my thigh, sending tingles vibrating through my skin with each pass. “And now he’s sliding into her.”

“You’re not even looking at the screen,” I said with a laugh, and my eyes opened as I glanced at the television. The movie was rolling the credits, and I pushed against Abel’s chest to back him away from me as my cheeks burned with embarrassment. “You’re such a liar!”

“You were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he joked, and smacked his chest.

“You asshole! You didn’t have to make fun of me!”

Abel looked at me. His eyes started on my thighs, glided over my chest, and traveled up to meet my gaze. “You really are naïve, Kettle. I should go.” He motioned to stand, and I grabbed his arm to keep him from getting up.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look down at me like Trish does,” I said. “Neither of you knows the first damn thing about me. I didn’t grow up in a fucking bubble, and my life wasn’t sailboats and designer drugs like you two.You’re the ones who are naïve. You like to party every day and fuck a new stranger each night like you’re so badass. You don’t have the first clue.”

“You think you’re badass, Lie?” Abel leaned closer until I smelled the minty toothpaste on his breath. I refused to move away because I knew that was exactly what he expected me to do. “You want to know what it’s like to be on a sailboat with me?” He smirked, but it wasn’t playful, and his voice was low and menacing. “This…” He pulled up his shirt to show me the hot‐white scar over his ribcage. “This is from the last time I was on a boat—me, my mom, my dad. I was the only one who came back home that day; only home was gone for me. My whole world was gone, so yeah, I can teach you about sailboats and drugs and fucking some random stranger just to feel something—anything other than emptiness. I can show you all that, little girl.”

I leaned away from him, stunned into silence by his confession and mortified that I’d brought up such a painful memory for him.

“I‐I’m so sorry, Abel. I didn’t have any idea.”

“That’s right. You have no idea.” He stood and looked down over me with what could be described only as disgust as he headed for the front door. He yanked it open, and it slammed against the wall before banging shut behind him.





Chapter Twelve


Anarchy



I stared at the television as tears formed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I sat like that until the credits rolled during the next movie and my eyes ran dry. I took a scalding‐hot shower to remove any remnants of Abel’s touch. I was pulling on sweatpants and Brock’s anarchy T‐shirt, which always made me feel a little closer to him.

Trish had come home and locked herself in her room, which was fine by me because I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I knew I should call Marie. She would answer on the first ring and wouldn’t judge me, but I didn’t care anymore.

The wall had gone back up, and I no longer gave a fuck about anything. It hurt less that way. I was used to being pushed around and knocked down, but now I had become the bully. I’d played my part too well and hurt one of the few people who saw the real me.

The world continued to spin; the clock ticked; and life moved forward with no destination or goal. As I sat down at the kitchen table and ate a bowl of cereal, Trish finally emerged from her room, looking stunning as usual in a pale‐yellow sundress that dipped dangerously low on her chest and fell just below her ass. Her mile‐high strappy sandals made her look like a supermodel ready for the runway.