The bad twin.
The bad seed.
Bad.
Bad.
Evil.
That word has even been thought a few times.
I straighten my legs, no longer caring if I get caught being here.
“You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” I turn to leave, saying to Porter, “I’m tired of your crap. I’m heading to the party. If you’re not in the car in one minute, I’m leaving your ass here.” I don’t look back to see if he follows me, to see what he does with Harlynn.
I don’t care.
About anything.
At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.
But would be the point of convincing myself of anything else? Harlynn has always belonged to my brother. That has been made clear since the day Foster decided he wanted to be friends with her.
Because my brother has—and always will—get whatever he wants.
Nineteen
Harlynn
I feel a bit bad for sneaking out of the house, but not enough to not do it. Even before I died and came back to life, I occasionally snuck out. But now, if my mom finds out I’m not in my room, she’ll be completely freaked out. But I’m eighteen and can technically do whatever I want. And getting to the truth about what happened to me the night of the accident is more important to me now than anything else. What kind of person that makes me, who the hell knows.
“Where are we going?” I ask Porter as I follow him across the grass and toward his car parked a ways down the street.
Kingsley already made it to the car. He’s also made it clear he’s not happy I’m going with them. I’m not sure why, why I’m bothering him so much. Maybe I should go back to my room since clearly he doesn’t want me around. But my need for answers keeps my feet moving forward.
Porter slows to a stop as he reaches his car. “To a party at Dan’s cabin.”
“Who’s Dan?” I ask, stopping beside him.
“A friend of mine and Kings’s.” He opens the door and moves to lift the seat, but pauses. “You want to sit in the front?” he asks me. “There’s room for all three of us.”
I glance at Kingsley. He’s glaring at me from the passenger seat. Part of me wants to say yes just to see how he’ll react. But I decide against it. “Nah, I can sit in the back.”
Shrugging, Porter flips the seat forward and lets me in. Then he climbs into the driver’s seat, shuts the door, and starts up the engine.
“Put your seatbelt on,” Kingsley mutters.
I assume he’s speaking to Porter, but Porter chooses to ignore him, turning the car around and driving toward the highway.
Kingsley tilts his head toward me, strands of his blonde hair falling across his forehead. “Put your seatbelt on.”
So he was talking to me.
“Why?” I decide to play around with him. I’m not even sure why I do it, other than I’m hoping maybe he’ll chill out, and we can go back to that moment in his bedroom when I felt safe and calm.
The muscles in his jaw pulsate. “You were just in a car accident, so you should understand the importance of wearing a seatbelt.”
He has a point and I plan on buckling up, but…
“I’ll put mine on when you put yours on,” I hold his gaze even as it becomes so intense I can barely breathe.
Kingsley’s eyes darken. “There are people in this world who care about you, so do them a favor and put your damn seatbelt on.”
“There’s people that care about you too.”
He laughs hollowly. “No one gives a shit about what happens to me.”
“That’s not true.” But as I say it, the words feel shaky and heavy.
All the years I’ve been around Kingsley and watched him from afar, I’ve never witnessed his parent’s show anything but disdain toward him. He hasn’t had any close friends besides Porter and as far as I know, no girlfriends. And then there’s Foster. He might be the worst when it comes to showing Kingsley how unwanted he is. And me? I’m no better.
How could I not see this before? Because I was around Foster all the time? Because I was around his words of hatred toward Kingsley, and I allowed it to poison my mind. But now I can see the truth. That Foster is a liar. Kingsley might be one too, though, but for some reason, I feel his lies are different. That the secrets he’s hiding might not hurt me as much as Foster’s have and will. I don’t know why, why I all of a sudden feel this connection to Kingsley, but I can’t seem to get rid of it and honestly, I’m not sure I want to.
“I care about you.” The words are soft, but true.
Porter gives me a funny look from over his shoulder, but he surprisingly doesn’t say anything.
Kingsley shakes his head with his jaw set tight. “Just put your damn seatbelt on.”
Letting out a shaky exhale, I scoot forward and utter words that may get me laughed at, but I don’t care at the moment. “I mean it. I care about whether or not you’re safe, so come on. Lets both put our seatbelts on so we can both be safe.”
He grits his teeth. “Stop messing around and just put on your seatbelt.”
I slide back in the seat, getting comfortable and refusing to buckle up until he does.
“Har,” he warns in a cold tone. “I mean it. Buckle up.”
“Kings,” I mimic his tone. “I mean it to. Buckle up.”
Porter snorts a laugh. “Fuck, this might be the most entertaining thing I’ve ever seen.”
Kingsley’s gaze cuts to Porter. “Shut the hell up.”
“No, thanks.” Porter reaches for his seatbelt. “I, however, am going to be a good example and put my seatbelt on.”
I lift a brow at Kingsley, like well?
He stares at me intensely, and my heart races, but I’m not afraid.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
Grinding his teeth, he draws his seatbelt over his shoulder and buckles up. “There? Are you happy?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say as I fasten my own seatbelt.
Man, that was a lot of work, but at least I got him to do it.
Kingsley’s brows pull together. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks me.
Confusion swirls through me. “Acting like what?”
“Like…” He yanks his fingers through his hair as he releases a stressed breath. “You’ve barely talked to me in years and usually when you do, you act like you don’t want to be around me. And I know Foster tells you not to hang out with me, so why are you here, telling me to buckle up my seatbelt because you care about me?” His hand falls to his lap. “I know it’s not true, so what’re you up to?”
Hurt and annoyance stab at my chest. “What the heck would I be up to?”
He gives a shrug. “I have no idea, but this… you being here… It’s fucking weird and…” He shakes his head. “Does Foster know where you are?”
“No,” I grumble. “And why does it matter if he does or not?”
“And are you going to tell him who you hung out with tonight?” he questions, ignoring my question.
I shrug. “Sure.”
Kingsley arches a brow. “Like you told him about the last party you went to with us?”
He has a point. At the time, I told myself I didn’t tell Foster about the party because he didn’t need to know everything I did. But in reality, I didn’t want him knowing I ditched him to go to a wild party with Kingsley, Porter, and Star. I was even a bit ashamed that I went.
Now I feel ashamed for making so many of my decisions based on what Foster thinks. A guy who I believed was my best friend, but apparently has been lying to me since our friendship first began—the necklace pressing against the hollow of my neck proves that.
“I may have not told him about going to that party,” I say. “But like I told you the other day, I feel different now. And you were pretty understanding about it then.”
“Is that why you wanted to come with us tonight?” he asks. “Because you’re trying new things and embracing this dif
ferent side of you?”
“Kind of.” It’s partially the truth.
Kingsley offers me a small, but beautiful smile, and that warmth returns inside my body, making a smile touch my lips.
“I’m sorry… for being an asshole,” he says. “I’m just…” He looks away from me.
Porter throws me a smile in the rearview mirror, as if we’re exchanging a secret.
I frown, beyond confused, which only makes his smile broaden.
“You’re so weird,” I say, causing Kingsley to glance at us.
“Like you’re not,” Porter quips with a smirk.
Okay, he has me there.
“What’re you doing?” Kingsley asks Porter, eyeing him over suspiciously.
“Nothing.” But Porter’s grin suggests otherwise.
Kingsley shakes his head, his irritation resurfacing.
Now that I’ve seen him smile a few times, I don’t want to see him frown, so I decide to try to distract him from his irritation. Not that I think it’s going to be easy, but I want to win him over. Want to find out more about him. Want to find out the truths he’s hiding inside him.
“So, quick question.” I slide forward and cross my arms on the back of the seat. “Who’s all going to be at this party? And what exactly are we going to do there?”
Porter snickers. “We’re going to party, obviously, and people are going to be there.” His lips tug into a smirk. “And didn’t you just try to convince me you weren’t naïve?”
I roll my eyes. “But seriously, who’s all going to be there?” I attempt to appear and sound casual. “Is Star going to be there?”
Porter shrugs, flipping on his blinker. “She might be.”
I open my mouth to ask him more questions, but he holds up a finger.
“Hold that thought.” He steers into the parking lot of the gas station Foster and I were at the night of the accident.
Memories dance through my mind. Everything seemed normal while we were here.
Didn’t it?
Looking back, Foster had been acting a bit weird, and Beth had been crying when I came into the store after Foster lost his wallet.
Did something happen between them?
“You should just learn to ignore Porter,” Kingsley says to me, eliciting a glare from Porter. “He gets off on pissing people off.”
“I figured that out a long time ago,” I assure Kingsley.
Kingsley smiles at me and again, I’m reminded of how foreign the look is—how over the years, he’s rarely looked happy.
“You know, I’d be super irritated about the shit you guys are saying about me, but Kings is smiling so I’m gonna let it slide.” Porter tosses Kingsley a smirk as he parks in front of a gas pump.
I expect Kingsley to frown but instead he mirrors Porter’s smirk. “Slide how exactly? What would you do to us if you didn’t let it slide?”
Porter grins wickedly. “Kick your asses.”
Kingsley crooks a brow. “So you’re saying you’d kick Harlynn’s ass too?”
Porter’s eyes glint deviously. “Even if I tried, you’d never let me get within ten feet of her, isn’t that right?”
Kingsley’s mood goes poof. “Shut up, man.”
Porter disregards him, flicking a glance in my direction as he shuts off the engine. “Hey Har, did you know you have your very own protector—”
Kingsley smacks Porter’s arm, kind of hard.
“Fuck,” Porter gripes, gripping his arm. “That hurt.”
“Good,” Kingsley says without a drop of remorse.
Shaking his head, Porter shoves open the door. “I’m going to fill up. Go get me a soda and some of those chips I had the other night.” He doesn’t wait for Kingsley to respond, climbing out and shutting the door.
“What do I look like, his little bitch or something?” Kingsley mutters, massaging his temples with his fingertips.
I watch him, questions cramming my mind. “He seems to think so.”
He lowers his hands and turns his head toward the window. Silence stretches between us as he stares out at the mostly vacant gas station, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
Just who is Kingsley? While I’ve known him all my life, I feel like I barely know anything about him. And I want to know him now, want to know what causes the sadness that almost always haunts his eyes.
“I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but what’s the full reason you’re here? Because it feels like there’s more than what you’re telling us,” he says, startling me a bit.
“Why does it bother you that I’m here?” I answer his question with a question to avoid telling him the real reason.
His gaze collides with mine. “It doesn’t bother me… but it’s not like you’ve ever hung out with us before. And what about Foster? Are you two fighting or something? Because it feels like you are.”
My fingers drift to the collar of my shirt where the locket is tucked away. “No. Foster and I… We aren’t anything.”
His gaze tracks the movement and question marks flood his eyes. “What does that mean? Because for as long as I can remember, you guys have been best friends.”
I decide what to do next. I could just keep tiptoeing around the truth. I’ve always been pretty good at that, at pretending—I can see that now. But honestly, I’m getting tired of it. Tired of the lies, of being lied to, of being a liar myself. So, taking a deep breath, I pull out the necklace and let it rest on the outside of my shirt.
“I found this in Foster’s room the other night,” I tell him. “It’s a necklace I lost when I was six. It was that day Foster wanted to dig a hole in the backyard of my house, and you took the fall when we got caught. I’m not sure if you remember, but I lost the necklace in the forest when Foster and I were looking for something to bury in the hole. When I realized it was gone, Foster supposedly went back into the forest to look for it. But he said he couldn’t find it. He looked for it for weeks after that, but supposedly he could never find it. But then there it was in his room, tucked away in a book.”
Kingsley smashes his lips together, his gaze burrowing into mine. He doesn’t say anything, but it looks like he wants to.
“What?” I press, resting my arms on the back of the seat.
Strands of his hair fall into his eyes as he shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But you want to.”
“Yeah, but wanting something and actually getting it doesn’t exist in my world.” He smashes his lips together. “You know what? Forget I said that.” He shoves the door open and bails out of the car.
I practically dive out and rush after him.
Porter shouts something about us having a lover’s quarrel, but I ignore him, hurrying to catch up with Kingsley as he reaches the entrance doors of the gas station.
“What did you mean by that?” I ask.
He keeps on ignoring me, yanking open the door. But I capture his wrist, stopping him, and my fingertips end up pressed against his pulse.
We both freeze.
“Your heart’s beating so fast,” I whisper.
He tenses, shifting his arm, and I expect him to pull away. But instead, he slides his fingers down my arm to my bandaged wrist. Then he turns, his gaze welding with mine, and my heart pounds inside my chest. Throbs.
A haziness starts to spin through my mind, my gaze falling to his lips.
His warm lips on mine…
Breathing air into my lungs…
I want to kiss him…
Breathe him in and taste him.
I start to stand on my tiptoes to do just that.
Kingsley’s lips part.
“I want…” He breathes out, his chest rising and crashing.
I’m about to say I want it to, but then he jerks away from me and mutters, “I need to piss.”
Then he dashes inside the building, leaving me standing there, stunned.
Not only because he basically just ran away from me, but because I just about kissed h
im.
I’m not sure what just came over me. I barely know Kingsley, and up until a few days ago, I thought he was gorgeous but dangerous. And when I tried to kiss him, my mind felt hazy yet at the same time, clear. It doesn’t make any sense.
And what about Foster? I know I’m angry with him, but I need to confront him. I’ve always been a bit afraid of confrontation, though, especially with Foster. I can see that now, my avoidance to demand the truth from him, my… fear of him?
No, I’m not afraid of Foster.
Am I?
Twenty
Harlynn
When I enter the gas station, Kingsley is nowhere to be seen. I assume he’s in the bathroom taking a “piss” like he said. Although, he could’ve made that up so he could bail out on me trying to kiss him.
Reality crashes over me as I realize how awkward I may have made things between Kingsley and me.
“Great, this night is about to get even more awkward than it already is,” I mutter as I pass by the register.
The cashier is the same guy that was working the night of the accident, and he gives me a funny look, like he thinks I’m insane. At this point, I’m thinking the same thing.
I give him a small smile then head down the candy aisle. Memories of that night float around me, of Porter teasing me, of me touching Kingsley’s arm, and how Foster was so irritated about it, how he said Kingsley had been flirting with me.
Then my thoughts shift to later on, when I found Foster in here after he lost his wallet. How Beth had been in the aisle crying.
“I was a mess that night, wasn’t I?”
Beth’s voice rolls over my shoulder.
What in the hell?
I start to turn toward her. “Hey, did you know everyone thinks you’re…” The words fade on my tongue as my gaze lands on her.
I blink a few times, certain I’m hallucinating. But what I’m seeing remains.
Beth is standing in front of me, her clothes are torn, her skin is smudged with dirt and blood, and her lips are dark blue. Her hair is covered with twigs and blood trickles from her forehead.
“What happened to you?” I whisper in horror.
Her lips twist into a numb smile. “You don’t know the answer to that already?”
Breathing Lies: (The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1) Page 13
