Things Liars Fake: a Novella (a #ThreeLittleLies novella Book 3)(23)

Daphne reaches up, removes my old University baseball hat, and runs her fingers over my scalp, giving my hair a tussle.

Christ her fingers feel good; too f*cking good.

“The twins texted me an invite to help bake their birthday cookies; I could hardly say no,” she says by way of explanation. “I didn’t realize it would be quite this big a production.”

I adjust my glasses and narrow my eyes.

My sisters—who aren’t usually this quiet—hum happily over near the sink, sneaking covert glances over their shoulders and doing that weird telepathic Twin Speak crap they do when they don’t want to talk out loud. Or are up to no good.

I stare the twins down hard.

“Gee, what a coincidence. Because they texted me, too. An S.O.S—something about needing help with their economics homework.”

The girls make a display of loudly running the faucet, filling the sink with suds, clanking dishes around in the water, and avoiding my suspicious gaze.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” I cross my arms, moving towards my younger sisters. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the phrase you used in the text was DEFCON 5 Level Economics shit only you can help us with. Do I have that right Lucy? Econ shit?” I use air quotes to illustrate my point, but they’re determined to ignore me.

Silence.

“Do you even take economics?” I practically shout.

Lucy’s shoulders shake with merriment as Amelia splashes her with bubbles. “Moron. I knew you’d get us into trouble.”

“It was your idea!”

Now they’re openly bickering, and once they get started…

“Shut up Amelia. Seriously. This was your idea—”

“You don’t have to do everything I tell you to do, Lucy, God! Be a think-for-yourselfer every once in a while—”

“—You’re so annoying. Stop making that ugly face at me—”

“—This is your ugly face. Duh.”

My mom has this shrill, nervous laugh she employs when she panics—the situations usually involve my sisters, their weird twin crap, or the occasional fight between my aunts—to break up the tension.

She unleashes it now.

Anxiously walking up behind Daphne, she begins hastily loosening the apron strings behind her back while my sisters continue arguing back-and-forth. Daphne’s arms go up as Mom quickly removes the apron, draping it over her arm and shooing at us. “There now! Dexter, sweetie, now’s a good time for you to take Daphne somewhere nice. Run along. Daphne, you can leave your car here and come grab it later. Shoo! Go!”

Lucy flicks Amelia with sudsy water.

My mom’s voice gets louder. “Run along now. We’ll finish this up later. The twins can clean up this mess; the two of you can go grab an early dinner if you get moving.”

Before I can object, Daphne is being ushered into her jacket, shoes are being laid at her bare feet, and we’re being escorted towards the front door.

Practically pushed out into the cold.

Porch light goes on.

Just as the door is being closed behind us with a resounding thud and the deadbolt slides into place, from the corner of my eye I catch sight of the twins through the crack—high-fiving.

Those little, meddling—

“I think your mom and sisters are playing matchmaker,” Daphne says quietly beside me once we’re standing on the porch, stuffing her hands in her pockets to keep them warm. The air is so chilly we can see our breath.

“They already think we’re dating.” I point out.

Daphne gives a little nod, hands sinking deeper into her pockets. “Maybe.”

My gaze lands on the SUV I drove tonight instead of my Audi; and for once I’m glad for it. With the weather turning, it’s the safer of my two vehicles.

Still, not wanting to be presumptuous, I delay moving towards it.

Daphne does not. “Well, I guess we can’t stand out here all night; we’ll freeze. We could go… do something?”

Her voice is encouraging. Excited.

Naw. Can’t be.

“But it’s Saturday.”

Tilting her chin up, she regards me under the glow from my parents’ porch light. Her bright green eyes are sparkling up at me. “True. It is Saturday. But can you think of a better place to be right now? I can’t.”

It sounds like she’s flirting.

“You know, there’s a reason I didn’t tell your sisters no.”

Oh jeez—she’s definitely flirting.

Daphne Winthrop is standing on my mother’s porch on a Saturday night, flirting. With me. I roll this concept around in my head, mentally calculating what little I know about women and trying to determine her motives.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think she wanted…

Shit.

Me.

In the cool night air, I give my head a shake; it makes no sense. None at all.

Not to be rude, but, “Daphne, why are you here?” I ask cautiously. Deliberately.

“I-I was invited.”

“Okay.” My eyes scan the empty yard and I exhale, the air from my warm breath forming another gray puff of smoke. “That’s it? That’s the reason?”

I’m not playing dumb; I genuinely can’t figure out her motives.

“I’m sorry.” She looks down at her feet, studying the wooden floor boards of the deck below us. Her voice is small. “I wasn’t thinking; honestly, I didn’t have plans other than maybe going to another movie by myself and stuffing my face with popcorn, and your family is so wonderful. Plus…”