More Than Lies (3 page)

Take a hint, dude.

Once we reach the front door, I open it and we’re greeted with a blast of loud music. A smile graces my face as we walk over the threshold. I love music, loud screaming obnoxious melodies. I’m a lot rock-n-roll and metal with a side of country and a dash of Harry Connick Jr. My mood is already tipping up for the better as I step out of the way to allow Preston to enter. After I close the door, I kick off my purple heels that match my dress, leaving them by the entranceway.

“Remove your shoes.” I order. Preston gives me a questioning glance, but complies.

“There are always a ton of people coming and going around here,” I start to explain. “The house belongs to one of my roommate’s grandparents. The first time a party was thrown here the floors had to be redone the following week. Do you know how much it costs to have someone sand and re-polish a house that’s all wood?” I don’t give him a chance for a response. “A lot.” And it was. That was almost a decade ago when Shane and my brother lived here, but still. I don’t even want to imagine what it would cost today.

I head down the hallway, bypassing the living room to my right, and head straight toward the kitchen. The smell of grease and cheese infiltrate my nose before my eyes land on the mass array of pizza boxes everywhere.

This is going to be a fun clean up for me tomorrow.

“Want something to drink,” I toss over my shoulder as I enter the kitchen, walking to the junk desk and hooking up my iPhone to the charger. As I pivot, heads look our way. Mason has his arm thrown over a petite redhead I’ve never seen before. It’s not unusual. He’s got a different bedmate every week. I halfheartedly smile as my man-whore of a roommate gives me a knowing shrug. Matt has his girlfriend, Amanda, tucked in front of him. He nods my way while Amanda scrunches up her nose. It’s a failed battle on Matt’s part. His girlfriend and I will never be friends, but being as he’s my BFF, I’ll make nice with her even when she’s a catty bitch. Which is often.

I turn my attention back to my guest, awaiting his reply. “Drink?” I ask again with a touch of annoyance at having to repeat myself. His head is slow to turn. I glance around him, noting that he’s caught the attention of one of Amanda’s friends that she brought for the weekend from Mississippi State.

“Yes, please. A glass of white wine would be good.” Is it appropriate to roll your eyes in front of your date? Nope, I don’t think it is. I go for a sympathetic smile.

“We don’t have win—” Amanda interrupts my response.

“I have Sauvignon Blanc.” She states as she presses off Matt’s chest. “You want?”

“Absolutely, thank you.”

Well, isn’t he just so well freakin’ mannered.

“Aren’t you going to introduce all of us to your new friend, Taralynn?” Amanda pins me with a stare as she pulls the door on the refrigerator open, grabbing the bottle with one hand and then closing it back with the other. She plays the nice card too, when she wants to impress someone.

“Everyone, this is Preston.” I reply with an even tone. “Preston, everyone.” Am I being rude? Probably, but it’s not like he’s going to be around after tonight. I did the one date thing to make my mother happy. He and I aren’t going anywhere and I don’t feel the need to tell him everyone’s name. Heck, I’m not even sure who everyone is. Sure these people are over most weekends, but they aren’t my friends. I socialize with them a little, but I don’t know them as well as Matt and Mason do. I know the ones that live in our neighborhood or frequent the local pub I work at, but the others? No clue. I’m sure most go to Ole Miss like Matt, Mason, and me, but it’s a big campus and I’m too busy for much of a social life beyond my roommates.

“Taralynn.” Amanda’s voice is a scold and I want to roll my eyes. “That just won’t do.” So she precedes to hand Preston a glass of golden liquid then starts rattling off the names of everyone hanging in the kitchen. When she is done there, she grasps his elbow and hauls him off toward the living room where I’m sure she is introducing him to more people. It’s no surprise when Cassie, her friend tags along. She is another snobby bitch that I don’t like.

“Good date?” I swing my head in Matt’s direction. His question doesn’t require a response. He knows full well I didn’t want to go, nor is Preston my type. “That’s not going to go over well with the evil queen, you know.” By evil queen, he’s referring to my mother. I coined the name for her after watching Snow White when I was ten because really, that’s how I see my mother. She hates me and nothing I ever do will please her. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. And believe me, I’ve tried. It’s just taken a lot of years to finally come to this realization. I wish I knew why my own mother dislikes me so much. If I knew what I did maybe I could fix it.

“I don’t care. I went, it’s done, and there is no need to do it again.” I pull open the refrigerator, grabbing a Corona for myself. After slamming the door closed, I pop the cap off with a bottle opener then toss it on the counter before taking a swig. Now this is what I’ve needed all night. It’s so much better than that wine junk I had to endure at dinner. It needs a lime though, but after glancing around the counter and not seeing any lying out, I turn my attention back to my friend.

“Lie to someone else, why dontcha.” He’s right. As much as I hate it and hate myself for caring, I do. I care way too much what my parent’s think of me. I know full well I’ll never measure up to the daughter they want me to be. I’m just tired of trying so hard. I see no point anymore. They don’t give a crap about what I want or what makes me happy. They never have.

Walking over to stand next to Matt, I bump his hip with mine, confirming he’s right, but not acknowledging it. The way his light ash brown hair is sticking up in all different directions makes him look like he just crawled out of bed. It does that when he’s in dyer need of a trim.

“So,” I tip my beer up to my lips before continuing. “Trent wants us to come down in a couple of weeks. Kylie is throwing a Halloween pool party at their house in Jackson. Y’all game?”

“Yeah, but how does that make sense.” Mase chimes in. “Costumes, makeup and water don’t go hand-in-hand.”

“I don’t think it’s so much about the Halloween part. That’s just her excuse to throw a pool party. I think she misses this.” I gesture around the room indicating the house that’s starting to get in full swing. Kylie, my brother’s girlfriend, and the love of his life, is a social butterfly. She loves people. All people. She will strike up a conversation with anyone and by the time she’s done with you she knows everything about you, your family and friends. I love her, but we are complete opposites.

“So we don’t have to dress up, then?” Matt asks sounding relieved. He isn’t into Halloween. He won’t admit it to anyone, but I know it freaks him out. He can’t watch the movie, IT. Clowns are the devil in his mind. That thought makes me snicker causing him to bump my hip except his had a punch behind it. He knows I know, but neither of us verbalize it.

“Don’t think so.” I take another sip as I see Amanda and Preston re-entering the kitchen with Cassie trotting behind. Amanda scowls at me telling me she doesn’t like that I’m way too close to her boyfriend. I down the remains of my beer, push off the counter, and I walk over to stand against countertop next to the refrigerator where all the liquor is lined up. If I’m going to deal with her crap tonight and have Preston here, too, I need something stronger. I pour a shot of Tequila and down it. Most people do tequila with salt and lime; not me. I like the awful burn it leaves and without the lime it lingers longer. Yes, I’m an odd one.

I turn around catching site of Shawn, my third roommate, as he enters the room. It’s unusual for him to be home so early on a Friday night. He usually stumbling in after the house starts to winds down and when he’s three sheets to the wind. He surveys the room, eying me and then giving Preston a once over. In that short span of time, he’s already sized my date up and doesn’t like him. It’s no surprise. Preston is nothing like my sexy brooding roommate in any way, shape or size.

He heads my way. I turn around, facing the bottle of tequila and shot glass as Shawn pulls the refrigerator door open, and if I had to guess, he’s retrieving a Corona of his own. I pour myself another, and then down the shot. If he’s going to be in my presence for the night I need all the mellowing I can muster. Shawn makes me nervous. He always has. He probably always will. And the bastard freakin’ knows it.

When I turn back around I see I was right. Shawn does in fact have a Corona in his hand. I look away, because well, I have to. It’s hard to look at him and not ogle. Shawn’s six foot two stature towers just above my five foot eight inches. I’m not tiny in any means, but neither is Shawn. Where I’m a little fluffy, he’s cut and ripped with tattoos down the entire length of his left arm and the majority of his back is covered in ink. At the moment he’s clad in a black t-shirt with the logo of the tattoo studio he works at, Southern Ink, displayed on the front and loose fitting blue jeans that don’t look that loose on him. I’ve seen Shawn plenty of times in next to nothing. His thighs are massive and drool worthy.

I might be making an attempt not to ogle, but every female in this room except the redhead attached to Mason’s hip, isn’t making the same attempts. I roll me eyes. Shawn gets this type of attention often, too often.

“Who are you?” Shawn demands looking at Preston, eyeing him from head to toe. Shawn’s not much of a social person; well he is, to a degree. He was always one of the popular kids in high school, but he doesn’t seek people out or shoot the shit. He does however make a point to know who everyone is that enters the house. Shawn is in charge of making sure it stays intact and no one gets hurt while they are here. Ultimately, what he says goes. He’ll kick someone out without a thought if he thinks they’re being stupid or might be untrustworthy.

“Oh, that’s Preston.” Amanda pipes up even though she wasn’t the one being spoken to. “He’s Taralynn’s date.” The bitch sounds smug and I have no idea why. When is Matt going to wake up and see the hideous behind the facade? Probably never. Why? Because men think with their cocks and Matt is no different. He’s been dating Amanda since high school. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now.

Shawn comes to perch against the section of the counter I’m leaning against. His hip presses against mine. He wraps his inked covered arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I have no choice but to wrap my arm around his lower back while the palm on my other hand rests over the material covering his abdomen, in order to steady myself. I’m not foreign to Shawn’s body. I’ve known him practically my whole life, so there have been plenty of times I’ve touched him or he’s touched me. All innocent, of course. He’s the only person that knows where to tickle me and loves to remind me of that fact as often as possible.

I glance up to meet his stare finding Shawn’s eyebrows turned inward. His creamy brown eyes have golden flecks sparkling throughout the shade tonight. That only happens when he gets pissed off. So what’s his deal, now? I’ve often wondered and even fantasized if that same intensity increases when he’s turned on too.

“Date, huh?” His tone bites into me. I can only nod my confirmation. Being pressed against him in this way is as much torture for my body as it is my brain. Shawn makes me feel and want things no other man has ever managed to achieve. It’s not like I want to feel this way about him. Especially, seeing as I’ll never end up in his bed with him. He’s made that clear multiple times. Always when I’m drunk, when I have the courage to tell him I want him. Every time, he rejects me. He shuts me down. You would think I’d stop trying by now. No matter how big of an A-hole he is to me, I continue to be drawn to him.

Let me tell you, it sucks big donkey balls.

He looks back in Preston’s direction. Eyeing him as if contemplating what to say. I’m not sure why. I don’t believe for a second that Shawn gives two craps who I go out with and who I don’t. The only thing I figure is maybe he doesn’t like the vibe Preston is giving off and wants him out of his grandparents’ house.

His eyes turn back to me, his lips turn into a snarl before he leans down to my ear. “You planning on taking Princeton, over there, upstairs for some good old fashion boring ass missionary, tonight, Tara? I mean, as a writer of romance and someone who reads trash books, can’t you show the guy a better time than that?” It takes me a few seconds for what spills out of his mouth to register. I can feel the heat form on my face instantly, but my brain can’t fathom it. He didn’t just say that to me! But he did. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am, because Shawn rarely makes his nasty comments where others can hear them. They’ve always been for my ears only. Not tonight, though. I can tell without looking around, just from the sharp gasps and the snickering from Amanda, that everyone heard what he said. “No, I didn’t think so.”

I can’t stomach their looks so I bolt from the kitchen. I don’t care that I’m being rude to Preston and leaving him in there to fend for himself. I didn’t like the guy, anyhow. It’s not like I wanted a second date. I didn’t even want to go on this one. He can tell my mother whatever he wants.

Shawn’s a jerk and a half.