All the Lies (Lies & Truths Duet #1)(47)

My mouth hangs open. “I was?”

“Arianna always followed you around like you were her god. You were like best friends—aside from Bree.”

Oh.

And I don’t remember her.

How can I be so…cruel?

“How about Asher?” I ask, the words strained and choked. “How was his relationship with her? Were they close?”

“More than close. He was like her brother, her mother, and her father all rolled into one. Unlike you, she wasn’t popular and didn’t have friends, so she relied on the two of you so much. Whenever you sat down, she’d sit with you two. Whenever you went out, she’d go with you like a third wheel. She was kind of clingy, if you ask me.”

“Hey,” I scold. “She’s dead.”

“I’m just saying. It must’ve been a pain to not have your moments with Asher in peace.”

“What do you know about her death?”

“Nothing much.” She lifts her shoulder. “During our senior year in high school, we all found out she killed herself, and that was it.”

“K-killed herself? I thought it was an accident.”

Lucy leans closer. “That’s what the Carson family has been saying, but you told us back then she killed herself and that it was horrific.”

“Did I tell you why she did it?”

“No.” Lucy’s expression shifts. “Arianna was so lonely, so none of us were surprised she ended her life, you know.”

No. I don’t know.

Why would a seventeen-year-old kill herself? She had Asher and me—why didn’t we help her?

After saying goodbye, Luce slips out the door, leaving me all alone with my jumbled thoughts.

Arianna was so much more than I thought.

She wasn’t just Asher’s sister; she was my friend, too, and I feel like a failure for forgetting about her and the circumstances of her death.

With those thoughts, I strip and step into the shower.

Water beats down on me, cool and soothing, but my heart won’t stop punching so hard against my ribcage.

That gloomy cloud hangs over my head like a sinister promise.

If I don’t do something about it, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.

A rustle sounds behind the door, and I startle.

“W-who’s there?”

The door to the shower swings open and I shriek.

Asher stands at the entrance with a dark look on his face.





My world tilts off balance as I stare up into Asher’s eyes. Those dark, dark eyes.

They’re not even looking at me—they’re staring right through me.

My body.

My heart.

My soul.

The smarter plan would be to hide from his hungry gaze or kick him out.

I don’t.

I continue staring at him as his penetrating gaze trails a path from my face to my breasts and down to my clenched thighs.

It’s like his hands are roaming all over my skin, touching me, manhandling me, pulling me closer, crushing me into him.

My lower lip trembles at the mere thought. I’m so glad the water is beating down on me or my reaction to my own imagination would be so obvious.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I breathe over the tangible tension in the air.

His eyes finally slide back to my face, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk. “Is that so?”

Is he…flirting right now?

He steps into the shower. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans.

I move back. The shower stall is too small to fit us both. He reaches a hand up and I gulp, my heart almost jumping out of my chest.

He flips the knob behind me, turning the water off. I’m all naked and wet while he’s fully clothed.

That’s unfair.

“What are you doing, Ash?” My voice is just above a murmur.

A part of me thinks he’ll douse me with water like he did the other time, but the other part? That part wants him to take me against the wall.

He places a finger on my lips. “Shhh.”

The mere contact makes my skin hyperaware of him, everything about him—his presence, that subtle sandalwood scent, the way his hair falls on his forehead.

Everything about him pushes my buttons. I’m so helplessly drawn to him it’s becoming stupid.

His thumb skids across my lower lip and I willingly part them. He trails a path to my cheek, leaving tingles in his wake.

It’s like he’s fascinated with the act of touching me, like he can’t believe he’s actually doing it.

The thing is, when he thinks I’m not paying attention, Asher watches me, too. Late at night, he stays right under my window as if he can see through the curtains.

He works out near the pool where I always study.

Even if he doesn’t have classes, he won’t leave campus unless I do.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, prom queen,” he growls, gripping me harshly by the nape.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “You drive me crazy, too.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something feral and out of control, and then his lips crush to mine.

Asher doesn’t kiss; he stakes his claim. It’s all passionate and heated like he can’t get enough of me, like kissing me is the sole purpose of his existence.