Tell Me Pretty Lies(30)
“Ew, what is she even doing here?” Taylor asks, holding out a cup that matches the shade of her lips in my direction as she saunters in from the other room. “You do realize you don’t live here anymore, right?”
“I was just leaving,” I tell Aiden, ignoring Taylor’s comment. She’s drunk and feels threatened by the fact that I just came from upstairs, so nothing I can say will piss her off more than what’s inevitably going through her head. Let her come to her own conclusions.
“Have a beer with me before you go.” Aiden’s gorgeous in that hot jock kind of way with his square jaw and thick, dark, tight curls. His honey eyes against tawny skin. Full lips.
Unfortunately for me, only broody assholes with lip rings seem to do it for me these days.
“My car’s running.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll see you later?”
“Want me to walk you out?” he asks.
“She’s a big girl, Aiden,” Taylor snaps.
I glance back up to the top of the stairs to find Thayer looking down at me, leaning forward with his hands braced on the rail. I force myself to look away, needing to get out of here.
“I’ll see you Monday,” I mutter, turning for the door. I step around a kid smoking on the stairs, then jump into my car. I’m half-surprised no one fucked with it. I drive straight home, being as quiet as possible when I slip inside.
“Shayne, honey, is that you?” my mom calls from her room.
“It’s me,” I call back.
“Don’t forget to lock up.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that she doesn’t plan on carrying on a conversation. “Okay. Night!” I go straight for my bathroom, stripping off my clothes and tennis shoes before stepping into the shower. I close my eyes and stand under the stream of hot water, letting it wash over me.
What the hell was Holden involved in earlier? The fact that Thayer seemed to know about as much as I did doesn’t sit right. Thayer and Holden have always moved as a unit, always in sync. Was he doing something he didn’t want Thayer to find out about? Or just decided to fuck shit up on a whim? The latter seems more likely.
I reach for my body wash and squirt it onto a washcloth that has replaced my loofahs for the time being and bring it to my chest, careful to avoid my piercings. After Thayer played with them, they were sore for a couple days, but I was lucky that was all that happened. And God, was it worth it. I’ve never felt anything like it. I was on sensory overload, and I think at that point, a heavy breeze would’ve sent me over the edge.
I shake the thoughts out of my head. He’s probably fucking that girl six ways from Sunday while I’m in here reliving some heavy petting like an idiot. I throw the washcloth down and it lands on the tub floor with a wet smack, then I crank the knob none too gently, turning the water off. Stepping onto the cushy mat, I pluck the towel off the hook on the back of the door and wrap it around myself.
Standing in front of the foggy mirror, I swipe my hand across it, just enough to see my face in the reflection. How did everything get so messed up? And what the hell was Holden up to?
After brushing my teeth and throwing on last year’s oversized volleyball shirt, I shoot a quick text to Grey.
I miss you. Call me.
When ten minutes go by without a response, I know I won’t hear from him tonight, if at all. I crawl into bed in a room that still doesn’t feel like mine and dream of a boy who never really was.
Shayne
School drags on slow as ever, but I manage to make it through without incident. It’s the end of the day, and since we have a game tonight, we had to wear our warm-ups to school. Black track pants with the snaps down the side and our maroon and black uniform shirts, donning our new mascot. Opening my locker, I shove my backpack inside, taking only my calculus book and a pencil.
“Are you avoiding me, little sister?”
I close my locker to see Holden standing there with his arm propped against the locker next to mine, looking no worse for wear. You’d never guess that he looked like the living dead two nights ago.
“Let me guess. You had sex with the wrong guy’s daughter,” I deadpan, hitching my bag onto my shoulder before walking away. Holden falls into step with me.
“Wife,” he corrects, and I snort, knowing that there’s a very real possibility that he’s not joking. When we walk into class together, Taylor is already there, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
“Better go. Your little girlfriend doesn’t look too happy,” I tease him, sliding into a desk at the opposite side of the room.
“She’ll live.” He smirks, taking the desk next to mine, but then he focuses on something behind me, and his smile falters. I frown, looking over my shoulder to see two police officers making their way into the room. Everyone in class exchanges confused looks while they speak in hushed whispers with Mr. Turner.
“Listen up,” Mr. Turner says in a voice more serious than the one he usually uses. “These officers would like to talk to you about an incident that occurred over the weekend.”
One of the officers with dark, slicked-back hair moves toward the front of the class to address us. “As he said, an incident occurred on Friday night involving one of our officer’s houses. The perpetrator is believed to be a student here, so if anyone knows anything, or maybe saw something, now is the time to speak up.”