Little Lies(71)

“I don’t know who Gigi is, but I’d love to meet her.”

“She’s my grandma, and she’s awesome—a little too into the overshare, but you’d love her.”

I make some kind of sound, sort of like a rabid animal, because this isn’t going at all like I’d planned. Granted, I didn’t have much of a plan in the first place, but the two of them chatting about her grandmother while surrounded by a drawer full of sex stuff wasn’t anywhere on my list of possibilities.

They both glance at me and then each other. “Do you mind if I tell him?” Lavender asks.

Josiah looks appropriately wary now. Whether because he’s sitting on a bed covered in sex toys, or because I’m clearly on the verge of some kind of mental breakdown, I can’t be sure. Both would be logical. Ironically, he has very little reaction to the confetti of fake dicks surrounding him. Unlike me.

He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “I have nothing to hide.”

Panic makes my chest tight. Maybe he’s been back here before. Maybe there’s already more going on than I know about.

“Josiah is not interested in me,” Lavender says flatly.

I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

No guy comes up to a girl’s room to hang out and actually do homework, especially not when that girl is Lavender. She’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts. And she has a killer sense of humor, and a huge, amazing heart.

She rolls her eyes. “Josiah would be more likely to want to hook up with you than me.”

Josiah raises a finger in the air. “Uh, that’s actually untrue.”

Lavender gives him her seriously look.

“What Lavender is trying to say is that I’m gay.”

Well, that changes a whole lot of things. Like, exactly how unbalanced I seem right now. And how unnecessary it was for me to come up here and act like a giant dick. Again.

He cuts me off before I can speak. “However, you’re an asshole, and I don’t care how pretty you are, I would never hook up with someone who treats my friend as shitty as you treat Lavender.” He turns back to her. “Do you want to come back to my place or something?”

She rubs the space between her eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I need to deal with this.” She grants me a dismissive wave.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I need to handle this situation, and you don’t need to witness the shitstorm that’s about to go down.” She flips her book shut.

He unfolds his legs and carefully steps around the fallen items on the floor. He’s a good four or five inches shorter than me, and probably a good fifty pounds lighter, but he rolls his shoulders back and juts his chin out.

I rub the back of my neck. “I, uh . . .”

He shakes his head. “If you’re thinking about apologizing, don’t bother—especially not to me, because I won’t accept it. I’m not the person you should be apologizing to anyway. I don’t know what your problem is, but I can tell you from what I’ve witnessed you don’t deserve Lavender or her forgiveness.” He turns back to Lavender, who’s also now standing amidst the contents of her drawer. He pulls her into a hug, glaring at me over her shoulder and whispers something I don’t catch.

Josiah has some serious balls. He’s a good friend, and I reluctantly admit to myself that I’m glad she has him in her corner.

She takes his hands in hers and squeezes, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, whispering, “Thank you for being such a good friend. I promise I’ll be fine.”

The jealousy is almost more than I can handle. But I tamp it down, because I’ve created a huge mess already. Literally and figuratively. Lavender walks him to the door, and they whisper to each other before she finally closes it with a quiet click and turns to face me. She is seriously pissed, but also exceptionally calm.

She props her hands on her hips. “How many times have you been in my room?”





Chapter Twenty-Four


Come Clean

Kodiak

Present day

I RUB THE back of my neck, searching for a way to explain my behavior. There really isn’t a good excuse without coming clean. All the way clean. And I’m so exhausted, so tired of fighting against this, of trying to make her hate me, of making myself miserable . . . “A couple.”

“So twice?” she presses.

This isn’t the Lavender I knew. She was shy and quiet and never, ever called me on my shit like she does now. Although usually I was coming to her rescue, not being an asshole, so the calling out wasn’t necessary. “Uhhh, I guess . . .” I swallow as she continues to stare. Not believing me. I think about the times I’ve sat outside her door just to be close. And the handful of times I picked the lock. “More like a few.”

Her right brow raises. She seems to decide the actual number isn’t important. Thankfully. “Why?”

“Huh?” It’s difficult not to focus on the items scattered across the floor—the ones I dumped there, thinking I’d make some kind of point. It’s not helping the thoughts running through my head, which are jumbling up like an off-kilter tray full of marbles.

“Why were you in here? It’s a fairly straightforward question, shouldn’t be too difficult for your genius brain to manage.”