Tell Me Pretty Lies(50)

“Before Danny died, Thayer and I were…together.” Sort of.

“I knew it!” she exclaims, slapping the mattress. “You fucked your stepbrother, didn’t you?”

I widen my eyes at her, gesturing toward the door. This is one conversation I don’t want my mom overhearing. “Be a little louder, why don’t you.”

Valen mimes zipping her lips and throwing away an invisible key. “Proceed,” she whispers.

Taking a fortifying breath, I decide to tell her everything. I tell her about the night of the funeral, when I nearly gave him my virginity. I tell her how I told him I loved him, and he told me to leave. I tell her about seeing Taylor there in his room later that night. I tell her about the suspicions surrounding Danny’s death, about Grey’s weird behavior, and how Holden and Thayer think he might have something to do with it. Everything I’ve been holding in spills out of me like an overflowing bathtub, but I can’t stop.

Valen goes through every emotion as I spew my verbal diarrhea, and when I’m done, all she does is pull me into a hug.

“I’ve made Valentina Solorio speechless.” I half-laugh into her sweater.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“But I get why you didn’t.”

I hear Valen’s muffled laughter and I pull back, looking at her with my eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “This just makes my petty heart so happy. Taylor is going to die when she finds out.”

“Valen! Did you not hear anything I just said? She’s not going to find out. There’s nothing to find out.”

“Why? It’s not like he’s your stepbrother anymore. And even if he was…” she trails off, a devilish gleam in her eyes.

I roll my eyes, flopping back onto my pillow. “It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” she says simply.

“I don’t know if it’s possible.” I wish it was. I wish we could let go of the lies, secrets, and hurt between us. I wish we could lay down our swords and give us a chance. But that kind of optimism belonged to the girl who confessed her love for the boy in the barn, only to have her heart broken. That girl learned her lesson.

Valen huffs out a sigh, falling back to my pillow beside me. We both stare at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I say.

“I think Liam’s going to break up with me.” Her tone is casual, betraying the sadness I know she must feel.

“What?” I ask, rolling onto my side to face her. “Why would you even think that?”

She keeps her eyes focused on the ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, you know? We’re drifting apart. We barely talk on the phone anymore. He hasn’t come down to see me for the past two weekends.”

“Maybe he’s just busy,” I offer. “He’s crazy about you.”

“Or maybe he’s surrounded by hot college girls and I’m not cutting it anymore.”

I snort out a laugh. “You’re joking, right? There isn’t a man between the age of twelve and two hundred who wouldn’t want you.”

“Yeah, for a night.”

When I realize she’s serious, the smile falls from my face. Valen is gorgeous and confident and strong and she knows it. It’s unlike her to let a boy get inside her head like this. Her sudden display of insecurity catches me off guard, but it also comforts me in some weird way. We all have our own shit.

“So go to him. Surprise him and spend the weekend with him. Show him what he’s missing.”

Valen bites down on her lip, considering it before she turns her head to look at me, a smile spreading across her face. “I do have some new lingerie that I’ve been waiting to put to use.”

“Not exactly where I was going with that, but that works, too.” I laugh.

“Okay. Enough feeling sorry for ourselves.” Valen sits up, pulling on my arm to bring me with her. “You’re going to shower. I’m going to order pizza, and then we’re going to watch that serial killer documentary you’ve been trying to force on me.”

“Who needs boyfriends when your best friend knows the way to your heart?” I jump down from the bed and she smacks my ass on my way out.

“Really sad that this is your idea of a good time. But you’re welcome.”





Shayne



I jog down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen to grab a muffin before I leave for school. My mom is at the counter with her back to me, coffee mug in one hand and the phone to her ear, speaking in a hushed voice. I slow my steps, trying not to alert her to my presence.

“It’s not the right time,” she says, sounding exasperated. “They’ve had a rough year. They all have. They’re just now finding their new normal.”

Who is she talking to? She pauses and my heartrate picks up in pace at her cryptic words, as if it has information that I’m not yet privy to.

“It’s not only up to you.”

Another pause.

“What do you expect me to do? Lock her in her room?” she whispers. “She’s a teenage girl, August.”

August? Great. He’s probably ratting me out for the other night. I roll my eyes. What a pal.