Tell Me Pretty Lies(41)
“With any luck,” Holden mumbles under his breath.
“Tell Christian to stick around. Meet back here when you’re done with her?”
Holden nods before following Valen down.
Thayer reaches an arm around me to slam the door shut and I flinch, turning to face him with a glare. “Start talking.”
“Not yet.”
I shake my head, irritated with these games. “Fine. I need to get cleaned up,” I say, gesturing to my wet dress that sticks to me like a second skin. I smell like beer and I feel like a drowned rat. If we’re going to have some sort of powwow, I’m not going to sit through it like this.
Thayer jerks his chin toward the hall bathroom. “You know where the shower is. I’ll leave some clothes on the sink.”
“Great,” I clip out, turning for the door. I pull it open and step into the hall, hesitating at my old bedroom door directly across from Thayer’s. Curiosity has my hand reaching out, hovering over the lever, but I drop it at the last second. That’s not my room anymore. This isn’t my house, and this isn’t my family.
“It’s empty,” Thayer answers my unspoken question, his voice much closer than I thought he was. A pile of clothes appears in front of me on top of his outstretched palm.
I swallow hard. Of course it’s empty. What did I expect, that they’d keep it for me, just in case? Without a word, I take the clothes and turn for the door to the left of my old one, then shut it behind me. I flip the lock, then toss the clothes onto the marble countertop. I brace my hands on the edge of it, taking in the white vessel sink, the ceiling showerheads that pour onto you like rain, and the separate oversized bathtub off to the side, separated by only a glass partition. My grandmother’s house is no shack, but it doesn’t compare to the luxury of the Ames’ estate.
I toe off my wet Chucks, then shrug out of my straps, pushing my dress down my body, letting it fall to the floor. I look in the mirror with fresh eyes, as if I didn’t spend an hour in front of it earlier, trying to see what Thayer sees. My cheeks are red, same with the tip of my nose. My eyes are glassy, and my mascara is smudged a little under my right eye. One side of my curls has gone flat, thanks to Ryan’s beer. I’m a mess, and for once, my appearance reflects exactly how I’m feeling on the inside.
I reach for the faucet on the stone wall, flipping it on. I push my underwear down my hips, then kick them over to my join my dress and shoes before I step underneath the large, rectangular showerhead. I close my eyes, letting the hot water fall onto me for long seconds, allowing myself to enjoy it for just a minute. After my minute is up, I make quick work of scrubbing my body with some men’s body wash I find on the built-in shelf and wash my hair with some fancy shampoo and conditioner that I can’t even pronounce the name of, trying in vain not to notice how much it smells like Thayer.
I pluck a clean towel folded on the rack, then wrap the plush material around me and knot it at my chest, relishing in how much softer it is than my towels. It’s the little, insignificant things like this that you don’t realize you miss until you have them again. Padding over toward the vanity, I pluck my clothes off the counter, taking stock of what Thayer gave me. A plain white t-shirt and a tiny pair of black shorts. I frown, holding the shorts in my palm. Are these…mine?
Throwing open the door, I storm across the hall and back into Thayer’s room. He’s standing there, head bent, doing something on his phone. Bored eyes lift to mine, but I don’t miss the flash of hunger in them before he conceals it. I throw the shorts at him and they hit his face before he snatches them.
“Why did you keep those?” I demand. Beads of water roll off my hair and down my legs, leaving a puddle at my feet. I look and feel like a crazy person, but I’m past caring.
“Don’t flatter yourself. They’ve been here since you left them.”
Left them? My cheeks burn when I realize what night he’s referring to. I pad across the floor, closing the distance between us. “For a year?” I ask skeptically.
He shrugs. “I’ve always loved your ass in spandex.”
“God, Thayer, why are you so confusing?” My eyes search his for answers I know I won’t find. “You tell me to leave you alone, and then you seek me out.” My voice lowers to a whisper. “You touch me and then you leave me…”
“Does it make you mad?” he asks, his voice sounding like gravel. “That your brain wants to hate me, but your body…your body fucking loves me.” He rubs a thumb across my cheek, capturing a bead of water. “But you let me touch you anyway because you can’t resist me, can you? And you can’t fucking stand that about yourself.”
His smug tone infuriates me. Even more so because there’s a grain of truth to it. But I straighten my shoulders, deciding to gain the upper hand.
“I could say the same about you,” I start, toying with the knot in my towel with my fingers. His eyes follow the movement as he scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, the two piercings glinting with the motion. “You can’t seem to stay away from me, and you hate yourself for it, don’t you?” His eyes tighten at the corners, and I know I’m getting to him.
“You’re playing with fire, Shayne,” he warns, taking a step back, but I continue anyway.
“The only difference is I’m the one having my needs met without having to give anything in return.” Summoning confidence I don’t feel, I drop my towel, letting it fall to the floor with a whoosh.