Tell Me Pretty Lies(66)

“I need a shower, so I set my alarm a little bit earlier.”

She nods, buying the lie. “I’ll be gone by the time you get home from school, so I wanted to make sure I got to hug you.” She pulls me in, squeezing me tight. “There are leftovers in the fridge and I’ll leave some cash on the counter to get you through the week.”

“Thanks,” I say into her hairspray-scented hair. When she pulls back, I notice that her makeup is heavier than normal, her hair in perfect, soft curls. It must be a high roller if she put this much effort into her appearance.

“Why is your window open? It’s freezing in here,” she says, taking a step toward my window, but I intercept her.

“I like it cold.”

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You seem…weird.”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly—almost too quickly—trying to look anywhere but the closet to my right.

“I know this past year has been difficult…” she trails off. Jesus, Mom. Now is not the time for a heart-to-heart when Thayer’s hiding in my closet. And I’d venture to guess that he wouldn’t be very sympathetic to our plight, considering he still thinks Grey is responsible for Danny’s death. That reminds me, I still need to fill him in on my visit with Grey.

“Mom, I swear I’m okay.”

She twists her lips before she decides to let it go. “Okay, well, be safe. Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”

I nod, and with a kiss on my cheek, she’s gone. As soon as the door closes, Thayer’s yanking me into my closet. “You’re an asshole,” I say as he pulls me against him, my chest pressed against his torso.

“This is news to you?” He smirks, sliding a hand between us and dipping under my hoodie before he slips a finger between my legs, parting me.

“What if she’d seen you?” I close my eyes, grasping onto his upper arms in an effort to stay upright.

“Then she’d know I’ve been fucking her perfect little angel of a daughter when everyone else is asleep,” he says, rubbing me in slow, delicious circles. I sag against him, my cheek pressed against his shirt as he continues to make me dizzy with his words and his fingers. And just when I’m about to explode, he removes his hand.

“Wha—”

“You’re going to be late,” he cuts my protest off.

“Fuck school,” I pout, pulling his hand back to where I need it. “I can miss a day.”

Thayer groans, “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know my mom is still here somewhere because I didn’t hear her car pull out of the driveway yet, but I can’t bring myself to stop. A recurring theme when it comes to Thayer. Thayer, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have the same problem, because he pulls his hand away once more.

“Then pack a bag. I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour.”

That snaps me out of it. “What?”

“You heard me. Your mom’s going out of town, anyway. Come with me for a night.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

I roll my eyes, knowing damn well I’d go anywhere with him.

“That’s what I thought. One hour.”




After Thayer left, I jumped into the shower, did my quick ten-minute makeup routine, then blow-dried my hair, leaving it down and straight. I decided to wear a long-sleeved white shirt with a high neck, then threw a dark navy dress with a sweetheart neckline and tiny white polka dots over the top, pairing it with white sneakers.

By the time I pack a bag with a jacket, an extra change of clothes, and my toothbrush, I hear the deep rumble of Thayer’s Hellcat pulling up the drive. The sound sends a thrill up my spine, my heart doing a flip-flop in my chest. There are certain things that I will always associate with Thayer. Thunderstorms, lightning, the smell of rain and tobacco, and the sound of his Challenger.

I practically skip out of my house, backpack bouncing behind me. Thayer’s waiting for me, leaned up against the hood of his car on the passenger side, arms crossed over his chest. I hurry down the steps, and when he realizes I’m not going to slow down, his arms shoot out to catch me just before I jump into them.

“Hi,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face.

“What’s that look for?” he asks, his eyebrows tugging together as his hands squeeze my ass.

“Just happy.”

He lifts an eyebrow, a weird look crossing his features, but then he’s turning around with me in his arms, walking the short distance to the passenger side door. He opens it, holding me with one hand, before dropping me inside and pulling my backpack off in one smooth motion. He tosses my bag onto the cramped back seat, closes the door, then rounds the front of the car, hopping in next to me.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

He ignores me, pushing the button that starts the engine, and it roars to life, vibrating my seat. “Freeway or scenic route?”

“Scenic route,” I say without hesitation, clicking my seatbelt into place. The interstate would be faster, wherever we’re going, but I love the way Thayer drives this thing on back roads. And let’s be honest, I’m in no hurry.

“That’s my girl,” he says, pulling his lip rings between his teeth. The comment is offhanded, but my stupid, girly insides turn to mush anyway.