Complete Nothing (True Love #2)(51)

He was keeping her for himself.

“Tell me why. Why must you keep your communication with Harmonia a secret?”

Hephaestus rubbed his face with both hands, frustrated and seemingly exhausted by my impertinent questions. “If anyone knew that the two of us were communicating, the repercussions could be disastrous,” he told me. “It’s a miracle we haven’t been discovered yet. If we told you how it worked, not only would we be in danger, but so would you.”

“But I wouldn’t tell anyone, I swear,” I promised.

“You know that’s a promise you might not be able to keep,” he said wearily. “Zeus could torture you until you told.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’d never break.”

“What if he tortured Orion in front of you?” he asked. “Or Harmonia. What then?”

I swallowed hard. The prick in my chest gave me the answer. I could never watch either one of them suffer.

“You see? We can’t risk it. I’m sorry, True. You have to trust me. This is what’s best for all of us.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Claudia


“Sorry it’s so early,” Keegan told me as he put his car in park in front of my house. The lights in my parents’ upstairs bedroom were on, and I saw the curtains move ever so slightly. “I was supposed to be home an hour ago. Football curfew.”

“Well, thanks for breaking the rules for me,” I replied, reaching for the door handle.

I wanted to get out of that car more than anything. Every time I blinked, I pictured Peter’s devastated face when he’d caught sight of Keegan, and every time I pictured it, my heart split farther down its center. I’d wanted him to be jealous, not suicidal. I felt like I’d made a huge mistake, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Everything inside me ached to get to my room, put on my pajamas, and cry into my pillow.

I wasn’t a manipulative person. I didn’t know how to do this.

“Wait. You don’t have to go yet,” Keegan said, touching my arm.

As soon as his skin brushed mine, every cell in my body hummed, and my mouth went dry. It hadn’t occurred to me until that very moment that he might want to kiss me. Ever since Peter left, I’d been too busy silently brooding over what had happened to consider it.

But now . . . yes . . . there was a definite charge in the air and that telltale hopeful-slash-sultry look on his face. Did I want to kiss him? No. I was in love with Peter. Whether or not we were together, I couldn’t just go around making out with other guys. That wasn’t how I worked.

Still, I settled back in the seat, not wanting to offend the guy who’d paid for my dinner and made me laugh throughout the night. Instead I tried to think of a good excuse not to kiss him. It was too bad I hadn’t ordered garlic bread. Unfortunately, the heavy dessert I had ordered now sat like a brick at the bottom of my stomach.

“Pete Marrott seemed nice,” Keegan said, looking down at his knees.

I felt like I had a huge breadstick lodged in the back of my throat. Pete Marrott had seemed pissed off, but I knew he was only saying what he thought he should say. “Um, yeah.”

“Did you guys break up recently?” he asked, casting a quick sidelong glance at me.

The breadstick swelled into a whole loaf. “Um, kind of.”

He nodded. “I had a feeling. I thought the guy was going to upchuck on your feet when he saw me.”

I pressed my lips together and looked at the front door, half hoping my dad would come storming out and demand that I come inside. Why were we talking about Peter?

“So, which one of us are you going to root for in the game tomorrow?” Keegan asked, shifting his weight, the white leather of his jacket sleeves squeaking against the black leather of the seats. His smile was so charming, my gut reaction was to say, You! Of course, you! But I controlled myself.

“Well, I go to Lake Carmody and I’m on the Boosters, so . . .”

“Maybe this’ll change your mind, then.”

And before I could even process what he’d said, he kissed me. No. He didn’t just kiss me. He slid his hand along my neck, cupped the back of my head, and pulled me to him, like if he’d waited to do it for one more second, he might have died. It wasn’t exactly like the Zac Efron/Taylor Schilling kiss, but it was as close as I’d ever come. Just like that, the lips of a person who was not Peter Marrott were on mine and it was . . .

Mind-blowing. My pulse thrummed quick and shallow in my wrists. My skin flushed outward from my chest to my neck to my arms and legs, to every last inch of my body, as if my heart was radiating heat with each and every beat. The pressure of his lips was so insistent, so searching, that in the back of my mind an unbelievable thought began to spark to life.

This guy really liked me.

And also? I should really start kissing him back.

And so I did. And we stayed out there kissing for twenty minutes, until the front lights flicked on and I had to gigglingly say good-bye. Then I tripped up the walk, fumbled through the door, and closed it with a sigh behind me, realizing one thing as I bit down on my swollen bottom lip.

Minus the whole devastating-encounter-with-Peter part of the night, I hadn’t had that much fun in a really long time.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO