Perfect Lie (7 page)

“Let’s go.” He stood and held out his hand for me. I slid my fingers in his, hoping I wasn’t pink cheeked from his touch. I let him pull me effortlessly to my feet, and I brushed off the bottom of my skirt. He gestured to an old black pickup beside the house, and I followed because I felt like if I went another hour without nourishment, I might wither away and die. I was a touch dramatic.

I slid into the passenger seat as Abel got in on the driver’s side and pulled down the visor, causing a set of keys to drop into his lap. He shoved one of them into the ignition and twisted his wrist, and the truck to rumbled to life.

The radio was static, and he turned the knob a few times before an old rock ballad blared through the speakers. We rolled down our windows to let out some of the stuffy heat trapped in the cab, and I angled my head toward the open window, loving the wind blowing through my hair.

“This thing gonna make it?”

Abel laughed. “It’s like the house.”

“I get it.” I held up my hand. “It’s old and needs love or paint,” I joked, and he sighed loudly as we picked up speed.

It was a brand‐new day, and all I wanted was to forget any day before it. Abel didn’t speak, and I was comfortable in his silence. He was a mystery, and I was curious but had to be careful not to reveal myself. Being one‐dimensional was far less complicated.

We drove for only a few minutes before we hit a strip near the highway with a couple of gas stations and fast food joints. We pulled into a drive‐through, and Abel turned down the radio so we could order. I wanted to fill the silence, but I was at a loss for things to say. Thankfully a voice rang out over the speaker next to his window, and he looked to me for my order. I asked for a breakfast sandwich and hash browns, and he ordered the same for himself.

“Wait! I should get something for Trish. She’s going to be starving.” I knew she hadn’t eaten since before we’d arrived at the old house in the woods.

Abel smiled and turned back to the speaker. “Make that three.”

The voice rattled off a total, and we pulled up to the first window.

“What about your friends?” I tried to keep my eyes from lingering on his bare chest as we waited for our turn to pay.

“They can take care of themselves. They’re grown‐ups.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but I realized I didn’t have my purse, and now this stranger was going to have to buy my meal.

“I’ll pay you as soon as we get back to the house, I swear.”

His lip upturned into that delicious smirk, and his dimples settled deep into his cheeks. “You don’t have to do that.” We pulled up to the window, and he dug out his wallet from his back pocket.

“I can take care of myself,” I said. “I’m a grown‐up.”

His grin widened, and he flashed me that heart‐stopping smile as he shook his head, but he didn’t respond. I watched as he grabbed a twenty from a thick stack of bills in his wallet, and the realization dawned on me.

“Oh, my God! You’re their dealer! Why do you drive this bucket?”

The woman at the window gave me a sideways glance, and Abel clenched his jaw. He took his change and pulled toward the next window.

“I’m not a drug dealer, Delilah.”

“Lie.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Are you doubting me or telling me your name?” His eyebrow raised again, and I realized he was being playful, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My name.” I turned and looked out the window, hating that I always had to open my big mouth. I heard Abel getting the food and thanking the worker before we pulled off toward the house. He handed the bags to me, and I dug through to get our sandwiches.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

He took his sandwich and devoured it in three bites, and I couldn’t help laugh. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his frame. He was muscles and tanned skin—all man.

Brock and I had started dating right after I turned seventeen. He was fit and strong but very much still a boy. There hadn’t been anyone since him, and I was perfectly happy with that, but then Abel smiled and winked as he dug his hand in the bag on my lap to retrieve his hash browns. I felt my body heat up under the glow of the morning sun, and I hated myself for even thinking of another guy like I thought of Brock.

I took a few small bites of my sandwich, but guilt and memories stole my appetite.

“You should eat. Most important meal of the day.” Abel turned up the radio, but it was only a low hum in the background.

“I had a huge dinner last night before we left,” I lied, because it was what I did. It had become second nature since I’d become the new me.

“What did you have?” he asked, as he crumpled the paper from his hash browns and dropped it into the bag.

“Spaghetti,” I said absent‐mindedly, as I continued to stare into the nothingness along the road.

“Homemade?” he asked, and I turned to look at him with my eyes narrowed.

“Sure. With meatballs and everything.”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I saw his lips curve. He knew I was lying. How did he know that? No one ever questioned me.

“I hope there are leftovers.” He was challenging me now. He wanted me to admit I was a liar. Who was this asshole?

“Of course.” I reached over and turned up the volume on the radio. His hand covered mine, and our eyes locked.

“Good, because I think Trish mentioned something about us coming over today.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

My eyes narrowed to thin slits, and I pulled my hand from under his. I huffed as I grabbed my half‐eaten sandwich from the bag and unwrapped it, taking an angry bite. He turned up the song and sung along with a smile as we made our way back to the old house. Fuck this guy.

The house was still quiet when we returned. The door squeaked as we entered, and Trish turned her sleepy head. “We got you breakfast.” I held out the bag and shook it, but Abel snatched it from my hand. I scowled at him as he dug out the hash browns from my meal that I didn’t eat and took a huge bite then handed the bag back to me with a wink.

I rolled my eyes and pretended that my body didn’t just kick into overdrive. My heart felt like it was exploding inside my chest.

“Thank you, guys,” Trish mumbled, as she untangled her limbs from Adams. I tried my hardest not to make a sarcastic remark, but I felt embarrassed for her.

“God, did you at least use something?” I whispered, as she took the bag and shot me a dirty look.

“I’m not stupid. We just fooled around. What about you?” she mumbled, as she pulled her sandwich out and curled up on the smaller couch with her legs tucked under her body.

“I slept by myself as usual. You should try it sometime.”

She rolled her eyes as she smiled. “Good, because I want my shot at Abel.”

“Trish!” I turned around, but Abel was nowhere to be found, and Trish giggled.

“What?” she asked, and had the nerve to try to look innocent. I had no response. Abel was hot—anyone could see that—but it was her he had kissed last night during spin the bottle. The humiliating events flooded back into my hazy memory. I had made a total fool out of myself, and I could only hope that everyone had been too fucked up to remember.

“Just be safe.” I had no argument. Trish’s friendship was all I had, and I couldn’t risk losing her. Besides, if I told her I liked Abel, I’d have to explain what had happened with Brock, and I wasn’t ready to share that with anyone. It was better for everyone to assume he and I were still together. At least thenI could explain away my tears when I was missing him.

“Keys.” I held out my hand and waited for Trish to hand them over. I went out the front door to her car and grabbed my purse, digging out a ten‐dollar bill to pay back Abel.

“Running away?” His deep voice called from the porch, and I jumped as he chuckled.

“No,” I snapped, and slammed the car door shut. I marched back across the gravel toward him with my hand extended. “I was getting the money I owe you.”

He shook his head as he blew out a cloud of smoke and didn’t make any move to take the money. “You think if I had taken Trish with me this morning, she would have brought you food?”

My arm dropped to my side as I wondered what he was getting at. “She’s too hungover to think clearly.” I held out the money again as I tried to forget about her claim on Abel just a few minutes ago after I had made sure she was fed.

“Call it even. You’re going to feed me spaghetti, remember?”

I sighed as I tried not to look frustrated. “There is no spaghetti. Are you happy now?” I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest.

“So the truth comes out.” His voice was laced with humor as he stared out at the yard.

“Yup. You caught me. I’m a big fat liar. Will you take the stupid money, so I won’t owe you anything?”

Abel’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, we stared at each other before he shook his head again and flicked his cigarette out in front of him. “No. You promised me spaghetti. You can’t just break your promise.”

“Are you enjoying fucking with me? Is it fun for you?”

“Is it fun for
you
?” His eyebrow rose flirtatiously. “I’m not fucking with you. Just trying to figure you out.”

“Nothing to figure out. I’m not making you spaghetti. I’d tell you to ask Trish, but she wouldn’t either, and no, she wouldn’t have brought me breakfast.” I dropped the money on the ground and walked around him to the front door. I had no reason to be so pissy, but I was really tired of playing the role of the sidekick, even if it was a million times better than being the outcast.

I tossed the keys to Trish, and they landed next to her on the couch. “Can we go? I need a shower.” I heard the front door open and close behind me as Abel entered.

“You leaving?” he asked, and Trish sighed loudly and pushed herself up from the couch.

“Looks that way. Lie doesn’t want to hang anymore.” She shrugged, and I rolled my eyes.

“Mind if we swing by later?” he asked, and I spun around to look at him as Trish answered.

“Sure. Adam knows where we live.”

I narrowed my eyes at Abel. “You’re such a liar.”

“That makes two of us.” He winked, and I wanted to punch him in the eye so it would be permanently swollen shut.

Chapter Five

Lame Excuses

“Fuck! It’s boiling all over!” Trish screamed, dragging me from my memories as spaghetti sauce popped and splattered over the stove.

I huffed and shoved her out of the way with my hip as I picked up the pot and held it over the sink as it cooled. “I was only gone for a second to change. What the hell happened?” I glanced at the stove and noticed the burner had been set to high.

Trish shrugged. “I thought it would cook faster if I turned up the heat.”

I shook my head as I turned off the burner and dumped the sauce over the noodles. A knock came at the door, and I glanced over my shoulder at Trish, who went off to answer it. I heard the guys talking and Trish laughing loudly in that annoyingly flirtatious way she did whenever a man was near. I rolled my eyes and added the ground hamburger meat to my concoction. I wasn’t the best cook, but I had learned early on that I would need to feed myself if I wanted to eat at all.

“Smells amazing,” Abel said from behind me, and even though I didn’t want to smile, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Well, it sucks, so don’t get your expectations up too high,” I joked as everyone else filed in.

I nodded to Adam and Sean, who stood in the doorway.

Abel pulled open a few drawers until he found the silverware and grabbed enough for everyone. Trish got the dishes and set them out on our small table. There were only seats for four, but I was fine with not sitting with them. I wanted to lock myself in my bedroom anyway. I dished out a small portion for myself and set the pot in the middle of the table so everyone could help themselves. Adam, Sean, and Trish sat down and began rambling to each other about nothing in particular. Abel dished out his food and leaned against the counter next to me as he watched his friends talk.

“Sit,” I said between bites, and he glanced at me before looking back at his friends.

“You sit.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t move toward the chair, and neither did he. “You’re stubborn.” I took another bite.

“I could say the same about you.” He wrapped half the noodles in his bowl around his fork and shoved the entire bite into his mouth.

“Are all people from California so rude?”

He shrugged. “Not as bad as the bitches from Mississippi.”

“Burn.” I rolled my eyes and turned around to put my bowl in the sink. I turned on the water and ran my bowl under it to rinse out the sauce. Abel turned around next to me, his side pressed against mine as he put his bowl under the stream, pushing mine out of the way. I pushed back, and a small laugh escaped me, even though I was trying my hardest to scowl at him. He glanced at me, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Fine. You can wash the dishes,” I told him. I walked away, hating how frustratingly adorable he was. I lay down across my bed and grabbed my cell phone, finding “Wrecking Ball” on my playlist before putting on my headphones and closing my eyes.

I gave myself permission to imagine Brock’s face—his eyes, dark gray like a storm cloud, charged and ready to wreak havoc; his hair brown like my natural color but buzzed short. His body was thick with muscles, and he was a few inches taller than me, so I would have to stand on my toes to kiss him. I smiled as I heard his voice calling me “Bird.”

“This music is torture, Bird.” Brock had a pained look on his face, and I couldn’t hold in my giggle.

“It’s not that bad.” I hummed along to “When I’m Gone,” which was playing on the radio in the gym at the shelter.

“You’re killing me. We can’t be friends anymore,” he joked, as he bounced a basketball, the sound echoing in the cavernous room.

“If you stop being my friend, I
will
kill you.” I took a step toward him. “Slowly…” Another step. “Painfully…” I snatched the basketball from the air and haphazardly dribbled it down the court as I laughed.

“You’re cheating, Bird. You can’t distract me with threats. I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon. Ms. Deb?” he called out to one of the workers, who looked over at us. “Bird is cheating.”