Perfect Lie (9 page)

“She isn’t your friend,” Abel said, and I fought the urge to cry because I knew it was the truth.

“Neither are you.” I pulled back again, and this time he let me go.

“I’ll make sure they get home.” I narrowed my eyes as he rolled his. “I promise,” he added, as the world pulsed and swayed like an ocean breeze around me. Abel’s arms wrapped around my waist to hold me steady, and my head fell against his chest. The steady hammering of his heart beneath my ear soothed me, and exhaustion crept over my body.

“Whatever” was all I could manage, because I was lost in the feel of my body against his. He was taller than Brock, and his build was leaner, but if I closed my eyes, I could almost talk myself into believing it was him. He held me tightly as we made our way through the crowd toward the door. We stopped momentarily for Abel to tell his friends what he was doing. My body couldn’t hold steady, and I continued to sway with the rhythm of the music.

Soon the cool night air surrounded us, and I opened my eyes as I was pulled toward the old muscle car in the parking lot. I heard faint whispers of “It’s OK” and “I’ll take care of you,” and I clung to the safety and warmth. I slid over the slick vinyl seat of Abel’s car then lay on my side. His hand fell on my shoulder, my head resting on the side of his thigh, as the car accelerated through traffic.

We drove for what felt like hours, and I faded in and out of consciousness until the car finally came to a halt.

“We’re here.” Abel’s voice pulled me from my jumbled memories, and I pushed myself up to look outside.

“Why are we at the rape den?” I asked, as I took in the old crumbling house where we’d partied the night before. Trish’s words made me laugh, and I covered my mouth to try to stop the outburst of laughter.

“Because I can make sure you’re OK here,” he said through clenched teeth.

Abel got out of the car, and I didn’t move while he made his way to my side. The door opened, letting in a rush of night air, and I had to close my eyes to steady myself. He helped me from my seat and wrapped his arm around me as he guided me toward the dilapidated building. I wanted to protest, but his skin was alive against mine. The sensation was overwhelming, and I reached out to rub the hard ridges of his abdomen.

“You’re stupid for taking that shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled my hand from his stomach.

“
You’re
stupid for selling it.”

His grip tightened, but he didn’t argue as we walked up the creaky porch steps. He guided me up the stairs to the bedroom where I had slept the night before. My moral filter long gone, I unbuckled the belt from my waist as I kicked off my heels and pulled my dress over my head, leaving me in my beige panty‐and‐bra set. I collapsed on the bed, and Abel tugged the comforter from under my body and pulled it over me, his fingers brushing over my stomach as he did. I could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness. I grabbed his wrist to keep him from getting up, my body swimming in euphoria.

“I am
so
fucking stupid,” was all he said, and his hot lips pressed against my forehead. My eyes closed.

That was the last thing I remembered before waking up several hours later in the darkness. A warm, strong arm held me captive against his body. I pulled against his grip as panic settled deep in my chest.

“I got you,” Abel’s deep, comforting voice whispered into my ear, but I struggled against him because he wasn’t Brock, and my memory was a foggy haze. I had no idea what the hell we had done last night, and now I knew I could never be anything like Trish.

“Let go of me.” I rolled over and was now face‐to‐face with him, my hands on his hard chest.

“I didn’t do anything to you. I promise. You had a nightmare. I couldn’t calm you. The only way I could get you to stop crying was to hold you.”

“Where’s Trish?”

“She’s at home in bed…alone.”

I sighed, my body growing slack against him. “Does she know where I am?”

After a moment of silence, he replied, “She didn’t ask.”

I allowed myself to be held by this stranger—the liar, the jerk. My body vibrated with silent sobs, and he held me as I broke down from the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I cried out for Brock, cursing him for promising me forever and leaving me alone, but Abel’s grip was relentless. I hated myself; I hated him, but he never eased his hold on me, and I needed his embrace more than anything.

I drifted in and out of consciousness and finally awoke for the day right before the sun rose.

“You can let go of me now.” I squirmed against Abel, and his arms went slack as he yawned and I pushed up to sit. “Why are we even here?”

“You want the whole philosophical discussion about our purpose in life or the basics?”

“Shut up.”

“You can hate me, Lie, but you can’t do that shit anymore.”

“What shit?” I asked, as I turned to face him, his face barely visible through the moonlight.

He propped his body up on his elbow and turned on his side. “Why would you
ever
want to be like her?”

“I
am
like her.” I stood, wobbling under my weight.

“Liar, liar.” My own words were whispered back to me, and I wanted to scream at him. Stupid stranger, asshole, nice guy. I pulled my dress on and slid my feet into my shoes. I searched for a few minutes until I found my belt and secured it around my waist.

I left the room and made my way on shaky legs down the steps to the front porch. It wasn’t long before Abel joined me, a cigarette perched between his lips.

“You could offer me one.” I didn’t care if I was being bitchy. He laughed, obviously not caring as well. He lit his cigarette and handed it to me.

“You scared me.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.

“Is this how you always are? You always take candy from strangers?” His tone was playful, but I knew he was asking if I was always this reckless.

I glanced at him then back at the moon. “No.”

He nodded and stared up at the same vast night sky as I did. “I don’t sell anymore. I wasn’t lying.”

“You think I’m that stupid?” I glanced at him, and his eyes met mine before looking back toward the moon.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Lie. I think you judged me long before you got to know me.”

“Facts, Abel. Facts. I took a pill that came from you last night.”

I felt his eyes on my flesh. “I’m
so
sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. I liked it. It was nice feeling…” I was at a loss for words to describe how incredible I’d felt last night. “I felt full of love.” I wasn’t about to play a victim or let Abel know how much I regretted
taking that drug. I wasn’t a child. People didn’t treat Trish like she had done something wrong, and they shouldn’t treat me that way either. College was about making mistakes, trying new things without caring about tomorrow. I just wanted to be left alone while I fucked up my life.

“I used to sell,” he said. “I had no other choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I replied quietly, my bitchy tone evaporated by his honesty.

“Yeah. I guess there is. Survive or lie down and die. I chose. Not something I’m proud of.”

“Where’d you get all that money?”

His eyes met mine, and he seemed to be thinking over his response. The truth doesn’t need to be thought over, so I just rolled my eyes and looked out ahead to the tree line. I was growing bored of the half truths and judgments.

“You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?” he asked me.

I smiled because I knew he was going to cave. “Not a chance.”

“All right. My parents had money. Lots of money. I never wanted for anything. But then I had to move in with my grandpa here in Florida when I was thirteen.”

“Why did you have to move? Were you, like, a bad kid or something? Why wouldn’t they make sure you had money to live?”

“It’s your turn,” he said.

“My turn to what?”

“What’s your story? I know you’re not like these assholes, so spill it. How did you end up with Trish?”

I shrugged as I stared at the warped boards of the porch. “I moved here to be with my uncle. We’re practically strangers. My family never had money, but it’s better here.”

“Better how?”

“It’s your turn.”

He grinned and blew out a loud breath. “I wasn’t a bad kid.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked me. “If you didn’t just come here for sunshine and college, then why?” He leaned back on his elbows with a groan.

“About a year and because I had no choice.”

“We
always
have a choice, Lie,” he replied playfully, using my own words against me.

“I made the wrong ones, I guess, and now here I am.”

Abel flicked his cigarette into the yard as the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds.

“You’re not making any better ones here.” His eyebrow rose, and I lay back beside him on the porch as we stared up at the sky.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I smirked as I thought of having to explain that saying to Brock.

He laughed, and the boards below me vibrated. “Well, Kettle, I’m trying to make the right ones. It isn’t always that easy.”

“Nothing is ever easy, Pot.” We both laughed then fell silent. “How did you get that scar?” I asked him, as I propped myself up on my side, resting my weight on my elbow, my head in my hand. My eyes scanned the pink‐and‐white line across his ribs that marred his tanned skin.

“Boating accident.” His smile faded, and I waited for him to share more, but he didn’t. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I thought your eyes were gray.”

“Fuck. My contacts. Did I take them out last night?”

He shrugged. “Brown suits you. It’s like…the earth.”

“You mean like dirt? Gee, thanks, Abel. I hate them. My mom used to say I was so full of shit that my eyes were brown.”

“She sounds fun.” He smiled.

“She wasn’t.” I rolled onto my back and squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

“Shit, Lie. I’m sorry.” He was up on his side now, over me.

“Don’t be. I should get home.” I began to sit up, but Abel pushed my shoulder back down.

“Don’t do that. I’m not as big of an asshole as you think.”

“I don’t think you’re a
big
asshole.” I grabbed his arm and pretended to examine his muscles. “I mean…come on. Do you even lift, bro?” My words dripped with sarcasm, and he shook his head and tried to hide his smile.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Brock.”

“What?” I was caught completely off guard. “I don’t want to talk about Brock, and it’s none of your business.”

“I held you for hours last night while you cried over him. The least you could do is tell me why.”

“I just miss him. That’s all.”

He shook his head. “Did he…hurt you?”

“Are you serious? No! Of course he didn’t hurt me. Brock would
never
hurt me.”

“It’s just…if I loved someone, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from them.” His eyes locked on mine, and his gaze fell to my lips, causing me to lick them. As our eyes met again, I pushed him back so I could sit up, and he didn’t try to stop me this time.

“I really do need to get home.”

“Let me grab my shirt.” He stretched as he stood, towering over me. He had to be around six feet tall, and I felt small next to him.

He disappeared inside the house and came back a few minutes later wearing a deep‐gray shirt.

“Good news! I found your contacts. Bad news is that they were on the floor.”

“Ugh. I have another pair at home.” We headed toward his Barracuda.

“Guess I didn’t need to throw that pair on the floor then.”

I reached to my side and smacked him on the stomach.

“It was a fucking joke!” He put his hands up to keep me from hitting him again as he laughed.

Abel pulled open the passenger door, and I slid inside and waited for him to make his way to the driver’s side. I opened the glove box and pulled out the container of pills from last night, and my fingers bumped something hard. I lifted a stack of papers and pulled out a heavy silver gun. My gut twisted, and I froze with the weapon in my hand.

“Whoa. Let’s put that back where we found it, sweetheart.” He took the gun from my hand and slid it back in its hiding spot. I shook the bottle of pills, and his eyes narrowed and he took them too.

“Why do you have a gun? They’re dangerous.”

“Guns aren’t dangerous. People are.”

“Trust me…I know.
Why
do you have it?” I tried to shake the grim thoughts of my past from my mind.

Abel laughed and shook his head. “Been watching a lot of movies, Lie? You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of you. I just want to know what it’s for.”

“It’s for protection. It’s to keep me safe, not to hurt anyone else.”

“I’m starting to think you aren’t a nice guy, Abel,” I deadpanned, as I forced my face to go blank so he wouldn’t see how much his having a gun bothered me.

“You think I’m nice?” His smile beamed.

“This is what I get for trusting strangers.” I turned and looked out the passenger window as we pulled out toward the highway.

“Strangers with candy.”

“You are
such
a drug dealer.”

“You’re nosy.”

“Asshole,” I mumbled under my breath to get the last word in. The guy who had held me all night and opened up to me about his past was gone, and the arrogant jerk from yesterday was back.

“You know, Kettle, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Is it working?” I asked dryly as I looked at him. He was focused on the road ahead and didn’t respond. I reached out and changed the radio station. He gave me a sideways glance but didn’t change it back. In fact he sang along, and his voice was low and gravelly and downright sexy.

“Not bad. You ever think of quitting your drug‐dealing day job and becoming a singer?”

“No, actually.” His fingers drummed the steering wheel, but I thought it was more from nervousness than keeping beat with the song. “My mom was a singer. Not really my thing.” He turned up the radio and switched the station to classic rock.