Things Liars Say (#ThreeLittleLies #1)(5)

The door slams shut, but I clearly hear a muted, “Grey! Someone’s at the door for you!” This announcement is followed by, “You’re what? Oh, okay.” Then a muffled, “Make it snappy, chica. You are so not going to want to miss this.”

Chica?

Then I hear, “Grey, hurry up. Huh? Well, hurry. Yeah, yeah, you already said that.”

Soon, from somewhere inside the house, one feminine voice is joined by another—this one pleasant and sweet—responding with a sing-songy, “Give me a second! Be right there!”

Mason appears beside me. “Do my ears deceive me, or was that another chick’s voice?” He slips his cell into the pocket of his low-rise jeans.

“That was definitely another chick’s voice,” Aaron agrees, stepping closer to the house.

The door unlatches from within, the knob turns, and the blue front door is pulled open once again on its rusty hinges. Natural sunlight hits the girl who appears in the doorway like a spotlight, her long blonde hair shining around her head like a halo.

Momentarily shocked, I take a step back, and she steps closer. Like an idiot, I stare. “I’m looking for Greyson Keller.”

“Yes?”

I roll my eyes. “Not you, sweetie, your boyfriend. Go grab him for me so I can bash his face in.”

The blonde bites her lower lip and laughs. “I’m Greyson. As much as I hate asking, can I… help you?”

“No you’re not.” Confused, my brows drop into a deep V, and I turn back towards my roommates. They shrug uselessly. “Uh, I’m here for Greyson. Greyson Keller?”

“Found her. That’s me.” Her pouty pink mouth gives me a lopsided grin, full of straight white teeth. “You can keep saying my name as long as you want, but no one else is walking out that front door.”

“You’re a girl,” Aaron blurts out.

“Aren’t you observant?” The blonde’s expressive hazel eyes shine with amusement as she spreads her hands wide at her waist with a light laugh. “Mmmhmm. Last time I checked, I still had all my girly parts.”

And what girly parts they were: hands sweeping airily around the flouncy skirt of a tight, feminine sundress, long tan legs accentuated by the short hemline flaring out around her hips.

Around her tan legs. Shit, did I already say that?

“Tighthead, if that’s Greyson Keller, you are so screwed,” Mason mutters into my ear from behind, poking me in the back with his bony elbow. “Walk away, man, before you look like an even bigger douche.”

I scowl and elbow him in the gut and am satisfied when he grunts. “Shut the f*ck up, Mase. You’re not helping.”

Not to mention, this is all his goddamn fault. He couldn’t have done a little more thorough recon work before raising a red flag?

Fuck.

Running a hand through my hair, I give Greyson a once-over from under hooded eyes.

Long, light blond hair falls over her bare shoulders in one of those sexy, messy French braid things, and freckles lightly dance across the bridge of her straight, pert nose. Her chest rises up and down breathlessly, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue as she lets me study her.

God, she’s… she’s gorgeous. Not the ordinary, pretty kind of gorgeous. No. She’s make you want to weep into your beer breathtakingly beautiful.

Or, at least, she is to me.

Fuckity f*ck f*ck.

“Is… there something I can help you with?” She’s biting down on a pink, pouty lower lip. “Are you fraternity pledges?”

I glance at her friend hovering from behind in the living room, hanging on our every word. She looks amused, entertained, and entirely too pleased with herself. Like a gleeful toddler who didn’t get caught stealing a piece of candy.

Bitch.

CSI Barbie’s laughing gaze shifts to the nitwits standing behind me with unconcealed interest, and I groan. Suddenly, I’m not too thrilled with the idea of confronting this version of Greyson Keller in public. In front of our friends.

I clear my throat. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?”

Greyson nods slowly as her roommate shrugs in acquiescence. The brunette stares me down. “I’m blowing my rape whistle if you’re not back on this porch in ten minutes, *.”

She shoots me a cheeky grin.

“Maybe we’ll take a quick walk?” Beautiful, blonde, and female Greyson Keller puts her arm around her friend’s waist. “I’ll stay within shooting distance,” she teases with a glance at me. “Okay?”

I give a jerky nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Let me grab my shoes.”

She releases her friend’s waist and disappears, returning several moments later and a few inches taller, pushing through the screen door and stepping out onto the porch.

Her hot-pink painted toes peek out from a pair of cork wedge sandals, legs going on for miles. Her sundress is everything it should be: tight bodice dipping into a V, giving me the perfect view of her respectable cleavage. The dress is tied in the back with a bow around her small waist, and as she smiles up at me, I swallow back a groan.

Why is she wearing a dress cut like that? Why does she look so goddamn cute? Was she about to go somewhere? Shit, why does she have to look so damn good? Why couldn’t she have been fugly? Why couldn’t she have been a guy?