More Than Lies (More Than #1)(15)

I roll my eyes at his use of the nickname. Not that it does any good. It’s never mattered that I’ve explained to him numerous times that my name is Taralynn. “Where are you off to so late in the night?”

“Home, and it’s early in the morning.”

“If you say so, but I didn’t see your car outside. Jared taking you?”

“No, he’s probably back to sleep by now. I’m just going to walk.”

“I don’t think so. Throw something on your arms and I’ll take you. Meet me outside.” With that, he pivots and is out the door, not allowing me to protest. Cole really is one of the nice ones, and like Mason—if they ever out-grow their too-much-fun ways—could easily snag a great woman. I follow, grabbing what I think is Jared’s long sleeve flannel button up shirt off the coat rack as I exit. Cole’s Harley is right out front, next to Jared’s. Like Jared, his only means of transportation is a motorcycle.

Unlike a lot of girls, I’m not scared to get on with him. Cole and Jared have both been driving a motorbike since they were in high school. From everything I’ve witnessed, they are relatively safe drivers. “Here, put on the helmet.” Cole snags Jared’s helmet off his nearby bike, holding it out for me to take. I do, securing it in place while he settles his long legs over his motorcycle and cranks it to life. Their neighbors have to hate them. The machine sounds like a beast.

I mimic his moves, swinging my leg over and hoisting myself up, making sure I don’t touch my bare leg to the scorching hot exhaust pipe. Once my hands are secured on his hips, I give him the go-ahead to leave. He doesn’t, though, and I see the slight chuckle he makes as his shoulders jump up and down. Cole grabs my wrists, wrapping them around his waist, and I roll my eyes yet again. Not that he can see, of course, or would even care. His cool palms slide up my thighs and yank me forward. My chest meets his back. “Now, that is more like it.”

Cole doesn’t have any romantic or sexual likings for me. He’s just doing this to try to mess with me. He loves taking advantage of moments when he can get a rise out of me. I’ve just learned over time to not give him the satisfaction. So, I wiggle as far against him as I possibly can, and squeeze him tighter around his abdomen.

The bike shoots forward, beginning our short ride. Like I said, I don’t live that far. The mid-October morning air is way too cold on my skin. I didn’t like it when I rode home with Jared from the club and I don’t like it now.

A few seconds before I know Cole will arrive at my house, he leans the bike to the left, accelerating as he does, to pass a vehicle. Why it’s necessary I haven’t a clue—because as soon as he pulls back into the lane he turns into the cul-de-sac that Shawn’s house is on. He parks on the street, but doesn’t cut the engine. There is no need to since he won’t be coming inside. Cole isn’t exactly friends with my roommates, especially Shawn. Shawn and Jared are enemies, which makes him and Cole enemies, too.

Shawn and Jared were tight up until our senior year of high school. They had a fallen out and have acted like mortal enemies ever since.

I hop off, and while I’m removing the helmet, Shawn’s truck pulls into the drive. Cole waves and now it makes sense. He did that for Shawn’s benefit. Allowing him to see me on the back of his bike, I’m sure of it. Asshole.

“Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime, T. See ya later.” He takes off, and I turn to walk up the driveway.

Mason comes stumbling out of the passenger side of Shawn’s truck. Without looking at me, he walks to the house. The poor drunk probably doesn’t have a clue that I’m behind him. Seconds later, Shawn rounds his truck. His hard eyes land on mine, but I don’t care. I walk past him without a word, following Mason.

Once inside the door, Mason turns to left to make his way down the hall toward his bedroom. Once he’s gone, I kick off my heels and move forward toward the kitchen in search of alcohol. The buzz I had kicking when I fell asleep is gone, and I want it back. Looking to my right as I pass the entryway to the living room, I see young people scattered about and passed out. Typical.

Once in the kitchen, I go to the counter by the fridge where all the liquor is lined up, and grab the open bottle of tequila. Pouring a double shot into a tumbler sitting on the countertop, I toss it back, swallowing it in one burning gulp. I used to love this feeling, but not so much anymore, though. When you go so long without your needs ever getting satisfied, it eventually turns into frustration on a catastrophic level. Sure, I could go upstairs, pleasure myself until I come, but satisfaction won’t follow. It never has. I want more than what I’m capable of handling by myself.

Jared’s great, but he isn’t what I want. Even drunk my head realizes what my heart desires most.

I hear Shawn enter the kitchen behind me, but I don’t turn to acknowledge his presence. Seeing him only makes it worse. Instead, I pour another double shot of liquid fire.

“Why the fuck was that prick bringing you home?”

After Mason made it known yesterday morning that I’m sleeping with Jared, you’d think Shawn would know the answer to that question. He probably does. He just wants me to verbalize it. I’m not going to.

“Leave it, Shawn.” I twist around and pin him with a stare. I toss the tequila back, but this time my eyes widen. Ok, maybe my buzz wasn’t so much gone like I originally thought.