Things Liars Fake: a Novella (a #ThreeLittleLies novella Book 3)(27)

DPR





Daphne: Okay, just to clarify… am I going with you this weekend to your sisters’ party as a [fill in blank]?

Dexter: Date?

Daphne: Yes. I’m sorry to ask and I know it’s awkward but it will drive me crazy not knowing. But we did go on that FAKE date… so this one is… [fill in blank]?

Dexter: Not fake. This is me—for once in my life—sucking it up and putting myself out there; Yeah. I’d like it to be a date. How does two o’clock sound?

Daphne: I would love that. Two o’clock.

Dexter: It’s a date.





Daphne: Hey, it’s me. Do you think your mom needs me to bring anything this weekend for the party? Like fruit or something…?

Dexter: No, don’t worry about it. She’ll have enough food there to feed a small herd of elephants. Or *s.

Daphne: :) Truth? I only asked you that as an excuse to text you. Is that weird?

Dexter: No weirder than you showing up to bake cookies at my mom’s house…

Daphne: Oh god! Please don’t remind me. Tabitha told me that was a horrible idea; I should have listened, but awkwardly… I was already in your mom’s apron.

Dexter: Truth? I think I dreamt about that apron.

Dexter: Is that weird?

Daphne: Maybe someone else might think so, but I don’t. LOL.

Dexter: I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but I bought the twins a gift and signed your name to their card… I figured, since they already think we’re dating, it would be okay.

Daphne: You are so sweet. Yes. That’s absolutely okay.

Daphne: Shoot. I have a meeting in three minutes. Better get moving. Talk later?





Daphne: I’m back. Curious about what gift we’re giving the twins?

Dexter: A spy kit.





The twins love their spy kit.

Fully equipped with magnifying glass, finger printing kit, and baggies to store collected evidence, the cheap child’s spy kit has the sisters bent at the waist, laughing hysterically. Before moving on to open their next gift, Lucy removes the kit’s rubber gloves, snaps them at the wrist, and asks the family members crowded around the room who wants to be their first victim.

Half the room laughs uproariously; their Uncle Derek throws his arms up, demanding to be finger printed.

“Now maybe they’ll leave me alone,” Dexter gripes beside me as we stand in the threshold of the living room, watching the twins rip through the rest of their gifts like seven-year-old kids. “Even if the kit is just a toy, look at how happy they are.”

“You know what I always wanted growing up?” I muse. “A metal detector; a real one—not one of those cheap, crappy ones.”

Dexter laughs. “Me too! Imagine all the shit we’d find. Coins, jewelry.”

“Pirate’s booty, for sure,” I tease. “Sunken treasure.”

“Oh, now we’re taking this metal detector in the ocean? Shit, I was thinking just parks and the beach. The ocean opens up a whole world of possibilities. What body of water would we explore first?”

I tap my chin, pretending to think. “I’ve actually given this some thought. It would definitely need to be somewhere near Spain.”

“Okay Magellan.” Dexter’s burst of surprise is loud and raucous. “Why Spain?”

I roll my eyes, and give him a smirk of superiority. “All the shipwrecks from the explorers crossing over? Sheesh.”

He’s not convinced. “But aren’t the best places to scuba dive in the Caribbean?”

My head gives a little shake. “No, no, no—I’m not talking about scuba diving; that’s all surface stuff. We’d need to dive down deep—”

“—What the hell are you yammering on about over here? All I heard was blah blah I’m a giant nerd who gave my sisters a spy kit.”

I inwardly groan, pivoting on my heel at the interruption.

Elliot. Of course.

He holds a beer towards Dexter as an offering.

My date takes it, hesitantly, his demeanor going from flirty and fun to guarded in a matter of nanoseconds.

My lips clamp shut, pursing with displeasure; not at the interruption, but at the rude way he went about it. Good lord, didn’t his mother teach him any manners? You don’t walk over and insult someone. I glance over at his mother, Aunt Tory, who sits perched daintily on the couch, sipping out of a champagne glass. Coiffed, strikingly made-up to the nines and discernibly high-maintenance, I acknowledge that she doesn’t look like she’s spent Elliot’s childhood years teaching him modesty.

I also acknowledge that perhaps he doesn’t know any better, and allow him some leeway. After all, the guy probably can’t help himself.

He was raised this way.

“Hey Elliot,” I start. “It’s good to see you again.”

Lie #1.

“Right? It’s nice not to have the huge crowd we had at Gracie’s party—now we can actually talk without all the music and annoying dancing,” he schmoozes. The charming smile doesn’t reach his calculating brown eyes.

“Oh, totally,” I agree. Lie #2.

Elliot moves closer, his elbow giving Dexter an almost unperceivable nudge, jostling my date towards the wall. Away from me.