Secrets & Lies: Two Short Stories (3 page)

“I know how that is,” he said. “I was playing intramural soccer at the beginning of the semester, but I had to quit. The workload plus participating in student government—I needed to sleep sometime.”

“Student government? Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m a broken record, I know.”

“No. I think it’s great that you have something you’re passionate about. Not everybody has that at our age. I don’t.”

“I guess,” he said. “I just feel like everyone must be so bored when I talk to them.”

“I’m never bored talking to you,” I assured him. “Which is more than I can say about a lot of guys. Especially the ones I dated this semester. Ugh.”

“What happened? If I’m allowed to ask.”

“Nothing, like, dramatic or anything,” I said. “Honestly, a lot of guys are just insecure because I’m taller than they are. I actually went on two dates with this guy Braden. Then one night he called and said, ‘Next time we go out, don’t wear heels.’ He didn’t ask me not to. He
told
me not to. When I asked why, he said, ‘Because I want to be the man.’ Like… WTF?”

“What did you say?” Toby asked.

“I told him if he was so desperate to be taller than me, he could wear heels. My shoes didn’t make me feel any less like a woman, and it wasn’t my fault if he thought towering over me was the only way to feel manly.”

“He sounds a little like… well, a tool.”

“Oh, he was.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” he said. “I mean, you’re interesting and fun to be around. And you’re beautiful. A guy would be crazy to screw things up with you.”

I felt myself blush. “Thanks, Toby. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Somewhere between that moment and when the waitress came by with the bill, it dawned on me. I’d said no to going on a date with Toby, but here I was, in a nice little restaurant, after seeing a romantic French film, being told I was beautiful by a guy who—I’ll admit it—I really liked. If this wasn’t a date, I didn’t know what was.

So when he pulled up in front of my house an hour later, I knew I should get out of the car. He was my best friend’s ex, and in less than twenty-four hours, I’d made out with him and gone on an accidental date with him. I couldn’t keep seeing Toby, and I didn’t want to lead him on, but at the same time…

“I had a really great time today,” I said. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me too,” Toby said.

We were staring at each other, the streetlights glinting off his glasses. My head was telling me to
get out of the damn car
. It was buzzing with thoughts like,
B will kill you
and
Don’t do it, don’t do it!
But every other part of me wanted my head to shut the fuck up.

Then he smiled at me.

And I knew I was screwed.

I leaned forward and put my hand on his cheek. Toby looked surprised and maybe even a little nervous. But he didn’t stop me when I kissed him. He leaned into me, his lips soft but strong against mine. His hands were on my neck and in my hair, fingers running through the newly cut strands.

I pushed at the collar of his blazer, shoving it off his shoulders. He wiggled his arms free, then went back to touching me again. It was like his hands couldn’t get enough. And I knew how he felt. My hands were all over him, too, sliding along his back and arms. I even popped a few buttons of his shirt.

“But, Casey,” he muttered, his lips still brushing mine. And for a second I thought he was about to be the moral compass here, telling me to stop because of B and the Girl Code and all that. Instead, he grinned against my mouth. “You’re at least three inches taller than me, and if you wear heels… I don’t know how I’ll ever feel like a man.”

I laughed. “Shut up.”

We kissed in the front seat of his car until my mom started flashing the porch lights, a signal that she knew I was outside, knew I was making out, and thought it was time for the party to end. I sighed and pulled myself away from Toby. His face was red and his lips were swollen. Mine must have been, too.

“I have to go.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I’ll call you.”

“I hope so.”

“Good night, Toby,” I said, smiling.

I climbed out of the car, knowing I was a terrible human being but deciding, just for the night, not to care.

I’d told Toby I’d call him, but when I woke up the next morning with a guilty conscience, I decided that had been a lie. I couldn’t call him. I wouldn’t call him. We’d made out twice, and that was two times too many. Whatever was going on between Toby and me was over. Dead. Kaput.

Except that it kind of wasn’t.

Fate had a sick, twisted sense of humor. Somehow, I ran into Toby everywhere I went over the next few days. He was in the grocery store when Mom and I came in. He was eating at the tiny diner down the street from my house when I popped in to get some hot chocolate and a scone. Then he walked into the library while I was dropping off some overdue books for Mom. If he didn’t seem so surprised to see me every time, I might have thought he’d tracked me down on purpose. But then, that just wasn’t Toby Tucker.

I’d like to say that nothing happened. That we just said hello and went our separate ways. But that would be a lie. Because somehow, every time Toby and I ran into each other, the same thing happened. And it usually ended with us making out somewhere: in his car, in the back of the library, or, in this case, in his bedroom.

“Where are your parents?” I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed while he hung his blazer over the back of his desk chair.

“At work.”

“When will they be back?”

“Not for a few hours.”

“Good.” I grabbed him by the front of his button-down shirt and pulled him toward me. I was trying to channel my inner Angelina Jolie, all take-charge and sexy.

But Toby stumbled and tripped over one of my legs. He fell forward, and our foreheads smacked together, making us both groan. Then his glasses fell off, and we both scrambled to find them. By the time we were both on his bed, we were laughing so hard neither one of us could breathe.

“Wow, we are smooth,” I gasped.

“We?” he asked. “That was all you.”

“Oh, STFU.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“STFU? It means ‘shut the fuck up.’ Come on, Toby. Where have you been?”

“In a world where normal people don’t speak in abbreviations?” he offered. “Do you realize how much you use them?”

“I don’t do it that much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t!” I insisted, rolling onto my side to face him.

“I’ve heard you use OMG, WTF, BTW, and now STFU. And you’ve said most of those numerous times.”

“No way. Maybe, like, once or twice.”

“I’m going to start counting,” he said. “Maybe I can start an abbreviation jar. Every time you use an abbreviation, you put a quarter in. We’ll see how fast it fills up.”

“It’ll take a long time.”

“By a long time, do you mean three hours?” he teased, nudging my foot with his.

“OMG, stop it.”

“And there’s one.”

“Shit. Okay, but that’s it. That’s the last one today.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Either way, the forehead collision a few minutes ago was your fault.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I was trying to be cool, but my stupid spider legs screwed it all up. Sure, guys may think long legs are sexy at first, but then the concussion happens.”

“I think I’ll take the concussion.” He gave me a soft, almost shy, smile.

I laughed. “Oh, but how will you ever become leader of the free world with multiple head injuries? Your opponents will totally use that in a smear campaign.” I put on a fake politician voice. “Toby Tucker—not only is his name a silly alliteration, but he also once got a concussion while making out with a leggy blonde. Can he really be our president?”

“Hey, don’t mock the alliterative name. If anything, that’ll help me get elected. People will remember it. Think of all the celebrities with alliterations in their names.”

“It’s still a silly name.”

“When I’m president, I’ll have you arrested for saying that.”

“Yeah, and you’ll outlaw speaking in abbreviations. The world will be a much better place.”

We both cracked up. It wasn’t until just then that I noticed his hand on my hip and the way our legs had tangled. We were both on our sides, facing each other, smiling. I could feel my heart pumping away in my chest, excited and nervous. And this time when we moved closer, twisting our arms around each other, things went much, much smoother.

We made out for a while, rolling and shifting until the once neatly made bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and covers. We only stopped kissing when my cell phone rang, a Lady Gaga song belting out from my purse.

“Shit,” I mumbled, rolling off Toby and hurrying to grab my phone. “That’s Bianca. I’m supposed to hang out with her tonight. I’ll BRB.”

I ran out into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind me. Like that would somehow hide Toby from B. I felt fidgety and nervous when I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Casey. It’s me. Are we still on for tonight?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I think so. Sure.”

“Okay. Well, Jess suggested we get together at her place and have a movie night. She promised chocolate swirl ice cream.”

“Great. That sounds fine to me. Really great.”

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Uh, well, can you make it two? I mean, it’s no big deal. I’m just, uh, hanging out with my mom and we’re running errands, so two hours would be better. If that’s okay with you guys.”

“Yeah, that works.”

“It’s just Mom is… She’s so busy with Christmas shopping so she has me helping out, and I just, uh—”

“Casey, it’s cool.” B laughed. “God, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You just… Never mind. I’ll see you in two hours.”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone and sighed. I was not a good liar. I didn’t want to be. I’d always considered myself to be a loyal, trustworthy friend. But here I was, in my best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s house, making out with him behind her back. And the worst part? I was eager to go back into his room and pick up where we’d left off. What was wrong with me?

I turned around and opened Toby’s door. He was sitting up on the bed, and he looked over at me when I walked in.

“Quick question,” he said. “What does BRB mean?”

“Be right back.”

“So… it’s an abbreviation?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

He grinned. This big, broad grin that, at first, I didn’t get. He just looked like some deranged circus clown but without the scary makeup. Then it hit me.

“Damn it.”

“And that makes two.”

***

Toby dropped me off at my house a little while later. It was obvious he wanted to stick around, but I shooed him out of the driveway as fast as I could.

“Bianca will be here soon,” I told him.

“Okay… So?”

“So she doesn’t know about us.”

“Why can’t you just tell her?”

“OMG, Toby, it’s not that easy.”

“And that’s sixteen,” he said. “I’m dating a girl who says ‘OMG’ nearly sixteen times in an hour.”

“I have not used sixteen abbreviations!”

“Yes. Yes, you have. But why can’t you tell Bianca about us?”

“I just… look, maybe I can—I’ll try—but I don’t want her finding out by pulling into the driveway and seeing us in your car. It’s complicated, and I need to find a good way to tell her.”

He sighed. “All right. But can you do it soon? I’m not really the sneaking-around type.”

“Yeah… me neither.” I kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

He drove away. And literally five minutes later, Bianca pulled up in front of my house. I tried to play it cool, not look too guilty or anything. But the harder I tried, the more uncomfortable I got. B kept looking at me like I was on crack.

“You okay?” she asked on the way to Jess’s house.

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine. I’m just cold. Your car is fucking freezing. You still haven’t gotten that heater fixed?”

She shrugged. “I’m in New York, so it doesn’t really matter most of the time. Dad’s tried, but he can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.”

“Is Wesley good with cars?”

B snorted. “Have you
met
Wesley? He can afford to pay people to fix his car, so he does. I don’t think he’d even know how to open the hood if he had to.”

Jess met us at her front door, dressed in a hideous reindeer sweater and a Santa hat. “Girls’ Night!” she squealed, dancing in a little circle while B and I hung our jackets on the rack by her front door.

“God, Jessica,” B said. “How much caffeine have you had today?”

“Not a drop!” She sprinted into the kitchen and emerged a second later with bowls of ice cream. “Chocolate swirl, naturally.” She handed each of us a bowl. “Now, upstairs!”

I glanced at B and we both shook our heads.

“Some things never change,” I said.

“Yeah,” B agreed. We reached the top of the stairs. Jess waited for us just outside her open bedroom door. “And some things really should. Like that sweater.”

“Don’t dis the reindeer!”

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

We all headed toward Jess’s bedroom. Like everything she owned, it was glittery and pink. Every inch of it.

“I’m glad some things
do
change, though,” B said, settling onto the edge of Jess’s bed. “I so do not miss high school. Last year was a mess. Well, for me. You two were pretty much saints. Like always.”

“That’s… not exactly true,” I said.

The last semester of senior year had been a little rough. B had been sneaking around with Wesley and lying to Jess and me about it. Then there had been some stuff with her parents and she kept ditching us and it was just a lot of drama there for a while. Luckily, we managed to patch things up.

“Please. What have you two ever done wrong?” she asked, laughing like it was just inconceivable. “It’s pretty annoying, actually. How freaking perfect you two are.”

“Stop it!” Jess said, nudging her.

“Yeah… I mean, I was pretty horrible to you during that fight last year,” I said. Her landslide of praise was making me feel seriously guilty.