“Oh God,” I whisper as he grinds into me, his breath hot on my skin. All I can feel and smell and think is Thayer, and having him touch me like this is overwhelming me both physically and emotionally. I tremble beneath him, and I don’t know if I’m going to cry or come first, but I know I don’t want him to stop.
His open mouth ghosts across my nipple, barely grazing the tip, and when his piercing nudges mine, I tense up, falling over the edge. Thayer hooks a hand under my knee to lift my leg, slowly working me back down to Earth, and when I finally open my eyes, he’s hovering over me, still fully clothed in his hoodie and all, peering down at me with an inscrutable expression.
Reality crashes into me all too soon and I suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed and I hate it.
How can you simultaneously love and hate how a person makes you feel?
Without a single word, Thayer captures the key in his fist before yanking it from my neck. I gasp, not expecting it, and then he’s pocketing the string and pulling away from me to stand.
“Don’t lie to me again.”
Thayer
Fuck. Goddammit. I slam the front door, bypassing Holden and Christian groping some chicks on the couch in the family room, and head straight to my room upstairs. An image of Shayne lying shell-shocked and half-naked plays in my mind. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be alone with her. I underestimated the effect she still has on me. She’s been fucking with my head since the moment she came back. She’s the only thing that gives me a distraction from this past year, but I can’t let myself forget that she played a part. Maybe. Fuck, I don’t know anymore. When she was gone, everything was so clear, and now? Now I don’t know which way is up. I don’t know what’s real. All I know is that I can’t let it happen again.
A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts, followed by Holden’s voice. “You good, man?”
“Fine,” I snap, not wanting any company when my dick is still half-hard, but he opens the door anyway, letting himself in. Christian trails in behind him, sitting in the chair at my desk while Holden opts for the edge of my bed.
“What’s good?” Holden asks.
“Not shit. Go back to your party.”
“We got rid of them,” Christian supplies, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
I nod, then lace my fingers together behind my head and blow out a breath. “It’s almost been a year.”
Holden shakes his head, staring off blankly, while Christian’s eyes are fixed on his shoes.
“A whole fucking year, and we still don’t have answers.”
“Maybe there aren’t any,” Holden says, still not looking at me. “Maybe he really just fucking fell.”
“You said he was acting cagey the day before,” I remind him. “So was Dad.” I wouldn’t know. I was too wrapped up in a pretty blonde distraction with the face of an angel to notice anything else.
Holden scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man. When isn’t Dad being weird as fuck?”
I look over at my cousin. “What about you? You think I’m trippin’, too?”
“I didn’t say that,” Christian answers.
“Our family has connections. Your dad is a fucking judge, for fuck’s sake, and we were denied a police report because the investigation is ongoing, but no one’s investigating. Why is that?”
“They didn’t find shit, T,” Christian says. “That’s why.”
“Or they’re covering something up.” The question is why.
“I agree that it’s fishy as fuck,” Holden chimes in.
“And if we find out someone did it?” I ask, just to be sure we’re on the same page.
Holden looks up at me without a trace of humor in his expression. “Then we get our payback.”
“Even if it’s Grey?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter who it is. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think Shayne knows anything.”
Holden’s always had a soft spot for Shayne, but I’m starting to suspect the same thing. She seemed clueless when we questioned her, and it could be an act, but my gut tells me that it isn’t.
It doesn’t change the fact that there’s a good chance her brother killed mine.
Shayne
“Hate Me” by Ellie Goulding plays from my car speakers on my drive home from Valen’s. It’s been three weeks since the barn incident. My days have consisted of nothing but school and volleyball. Besides the occasional dirty look and snide comment from Taylor, everything has been…normal. Holden still tries to talk to me every day. He even sat with Valen and me at lunch the other day after I once again declined to sit at his table, which, in turn, ended up causing even more of a scene.
Thayer, on the other hand, hasn’t made an appearance once. It’s a good thing. It’s what I wanted. There’s no way I could face him after that night in the barn, anyway. He ripped the key from my neck, then left me lying there, feeling like an idiot for letting him touch me. So why do I feel rejected, and worse than that…disappointed?
Something darts in front of my car, jerking me from my thoughts, and I slam on my brakes to avoid hitting it, squeezing my eyes shut. I peel one eye open, heart pounding, to see a man in a black hoodie, both hands braced on the hood of my car.
“Holden?” I ask, incredulous. I narrow my eyes, taking in his disheveled state and the blood coming from his hand. He’s looking behind him, as if waiting for someone to come charging after him. I push the button to roll my window down. “Holden!” I snap, finally getting his attention. When he realizes it’s me, I can see the relief set in.
“Thank fuck.” He rounds the car, coming for the passenger side door and yanks the handle. “Come on, Shayne. Let me in.”
I squint, assessing his glassy eyes and the way he sways on his feet. He’s either really drunk or really hurt. Either way, he’s fucked up.
Headlights appear in my rearview mirror, coming up way too fast. I snap into action, hitting the unlock button. Holden stumbles into my passenger seat, filling my car with the scent of alcohol, and quickly closes the door. “Go!” he shouts.
I slam on the gas, my tires screeching against the pavement. Once the car’s no longer visible in my rearview mirror, I reach behind my seat, fishing my extra shirt out of my volleyball bag. “Here.” I toss it at Holden, and he wraps it around his hand.
“Drunk or hurt?”
“Both. The former more than the latter.” He chuckles.
I shake my head. “I don’t even want to know.”
“Probably for the best,” he agrees, reclining the seat to lie back. “Wake me up when we get home.”
Home.
His house. As in Whittemore. Where Thayer lives. I haven’t stepped foot inside in nearly a year. My stomach turns at the prospect of seeing Thayer, my hands tightening around the wheel. Then again, I haven’t seen him in weeks. He’s probably at some college party, anyway. The odds of him being home on a Friday night are slim to none.
“You better not bleed on my seat,” I mutter. Technically, it’s my mom’s old car, but she drives my grandmother’s car now, so I use this one when I need to. It’s not flashy. A little white Nissan that gets me from point A to point B. But that’s all I need.
I don’t expect him to actually pass out in the short five-minute drive to his property, but when I pull up to his open gate and reach over to shake his shoulder, he mumbles something intelligible before promptly falling back asleep.
“Great.”
I follow the long, winding driveway that leads to the house, dread creeping in when I notice all the cars lining both sides. Dozens of them. Daddy Dearest must be out of town. That’s the only time the boys decide to throw a party. Not that it’s exactly a rare occasion—he’s gone more often than not, staying at his apartment in the city most nights—and he doesn’t give a shit, so long as they clean up their mess. I follow the road up to the circular driveway and around the old brick water fountain surrounded by wildflowers that sits in the center, then throw my car into park.
“We’re here,” I say, shaking his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. “Holden!” I snap. “Wake. Up.”
He finally rouses, looking over at me as if he has no idea how he got here.
“You’re home,” I say, gesturing toward the front door. He scans his surroundings, taking in the clusters of people drinking on the steps and scattered across the lawn.
“Thanks, little sister,” he slurs, reaching for the handle. He falls out of the car, landing on the pavement, and a groan follows.
Dammit. I throw my door open and hurry over to help him up. All two hundred pounds of drunk, sweaty, dead weight. I wrap one arm around his waist while his goes around my shoulders. I hold his arm in place, walking him toward the front door.
Some girl bites down on her lip when she sees us approach, giving a little wave. “Hey, Holden.”
Is she kidding? Does she not realize he’s barely conscious?
“Make yourself useful and open the door. You can try again tomorrow when he’s not comatose.”
She blinks twice before quickly opening the front door and holding it for us. “Is he okay?” she calls out after us. I don’t bother responding.
“Hot Girl Bummer” blasts from the sound system, and there are people drinking, dancing, and making out in every corner. “You owe me for this,” I mutter under my breath, ignoring the curious eyes, and head straight for the stairs. Holden holds his own weight surprisingly well all the way up. When we get to the top, I cast a glance toward the black door that leads to Thayer’s room, the one right across from where I used to sleep, and it’s just my luck that even in his drunken state Holden catches it.
“He’s different now,” he says, out of nowhere.
“We all are.” I clear my throat. “Come on. Almost there.”
We amble down the hallway lined with old photos of the estate in various states dating back to the 1800s. It burned down in the early 1900s, but my favorite photos have always been the ones before the fire. This place has so much history, and it’s always fascinated me.
Holden’s feet somehow get tangled up with mine, knocking me off balance. We both go down, him taking the brunt of the fall, me landing on top of him. His arms come around my waist, holding me to him when I try to get up.
“Oh my God, get off of me,” I whine, trying to wiggle out of his hold.
“You’re warm and you smell pretty and I miss you.” I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, or if there’s any truth to it, but he sounds sincere, and it breaks my heart a little. Sometimes, I forget there’s a boy with feelings under all that bravado and sarcasm. We didn’t just lose Danny. We all lost each other. “We all do, even Thayer.”
I purse my lips. Even Thayer. Right. “Come on,” I say, patting his chest. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“What the fuck?” a voice booms from behind us. Holden’s chest shakes with laughter and I whip my head around to see Thayer standing there, a murderous expression on his face. I roll my eyes, pushing off Holden, and this time he lets me up.
Holden takes my outstretched hands, and I try to pull his heavy ass up.
“A little help would be nice,” I snap over my shoulder.
Thayer frowns, looking between the two of us before he prowls toward us and pulls Holden’s arm around his neck to hoist him up. “The fuck happened?”
“I don’t know. I found him like this.”
“Where?”
“Arrowhead Trail. I was driving home and he was just there. Like this,” I say, gesturing to his bloody state.
“Thayer?” a feminine voice calls out. My stomach drops when I see a beautiful, leggy brunette clad in only a bra and cut-off shorts standing in Thayer’s doorway. “What’s taking so long?” She cocks her head to the side, twirling her hair around her finger.
“You can handle it from here,” I say, quickly turning to leave. I know there have been other girls. I’m not dumb enough to think he hadn’t moved on. But knowing and seeing are two completely different things. I tuck my hair behind my ear, making my way down the steps as fast as I can without actually running away.
“Whoa, girl, where you going in such a hurry?” Aiden catches me by my shoulders when I hit the bottom step, pulling me in for a hug.
“Ew, what is she even doing here?” Taylor asks, holding out a cup that matches the shade of her lips in my direction as she saunters in from the other room. “You do realize you don’t live here anymore, right?”
“I was just leaving,” I tell Aiden, ignoring Taylor’s comment. She’s drunk and feels threatened by the fact that I just came from upstairs, so nothing I can say will piss her off more than what’s inevitably going through her head. Let her come to her own conclusions.
“Have a beer with me before you go.” Aiden’s gorgeous in that hot jock kind of way with his square jaw and thick, dark, tight curls. His honey eyes against tawny skin. Full lips.
Unfortunately for me, only broody assholes with lip rings seem to do it for me these days.
“My car’s running.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll see you later?”
“Want me to walk you out?” he asks.
“She’s a big girl, Aiden,” Taylor snaps.
I glance back up to the top of the stairs to find Thayer looking down at me, leaning forward with his hands braced on the rail. I force myself to look away, needing to get out of here.
“I’ll see you Monday,” I mutter, turning for the door. I step around a kid smoking on the stairs, then jump into my car. I’m half-surprised no one fucked with it. I drive straight home, being as quiet as possible when I slip inside.
“Shayne, honey, is that you?” my mom calls from her room.
“It’s me,” I call back.
“Don’t forget to lock up.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that she doesn’t plan on carrying on a conversation. “Okay. Night!” I go straight for my bathroom, stripping off my clothes and tennis shoes before stepping into the shower. I close my eyes and stand under the stream of hot water, letting it wash over me.
What the hell was Holden involved in earlier? The fact that Thayer seemed to know about as much as I did doesn’t sit right. Thayer and Holden have always moved as a unit, always in sync. Was he doing something he didn’t want Thayer to find out about? Or just decided to fuck shit up on a whim? The latter seems more likely.
I reach for my body wash and squirt it onto a washcloth that has replaced my loofahs for the time being and bring it to my chest, careful to avoid my piercings. After Thayer played with them, they were sore for a couple days, but I was lucky that was all that happened. And God, was it worth it. I’ve never felt anything like it. I was on sensory overload, and I think at that point, a heavy breeze would’ve sent me over the edge.
I shake the thoughts out of my head. He’s probably fucking that girl six ways from Sunday while I’m in here reliving some heavy petting like an idiot. I throw the washcloth down and it lands on the tub floor with a wet smack, then I crank the knob none too gently, turning the water off. Stepping onto the cushy mat, I pluck the towel off the hook on the back of the door and wrap it around myself.
Standing in front of the foggy mirror, I swipe my hand across it, just enough to see my face in the reflection. How did everything get so messed up? And what the hell was Holden up to?
After brushing my teeth and throwing on last year’s oversized volleyball shirt, I shoot a quick text to Grey.
I miss you. Call me.
When ten minutes go by without a response, I know I won’t hear from him tonight, if at all. I crawl into bed in a room that still doesn’t feel like mine and dream of a boy who never really was.
Shayne
School drags on slow as ever, but I manage to make it through without incident. It’s the end of the day, and since we have a game tonight, we had to wear our warm-ups to school. Black track pants with the snaps down the side and our maroon and black uniform shirts, donning our new mascot. Opening my locker, I shove my backpack inside, t
aking only my calculus book and a pencil.
“Are you avoiding me, little sister?”
I close my locker to see Holden standing there with his arm propped against the locker next to mine, looking no worse for wear. You’d never guess that he looked like the living dead two nights ago.
“Let me guess. You had sex with the wrong guy’s daughter,” I deadpan, hitching my bag onto my shoulder before walking away. Holden falls into step with me.
“Wife,” he corrects, and I snort, knowing that there’s a very real possibility that he’s not joking. When we walk into class together, Taylor is already there, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
“Better go. Your little girlfriend doesn’t look too happy,” I tease him, sliding into a desk at the opposite side of the room.
“She’ll live.” He smirks, taking the desk next to mine, but then he focuses on something behind me, and his smile falters. I frown, looking over my shoulder to see two police officers making their way into the room. Everyone in class exchanges confused looks while they speak in hushed whispers with Mr. Turner.
“Listen up,” Mr. Turner says in a voice more serious than the one he usually uses. “These officers would like to talk to you about an incident that occurred over the weekend.”
One of the officers with dark, slicked-back hair moves toward the front of the class to address us. “As he said, an incident occurred on Friday night involving one of our officer’s houses. The perpetrator is believed to be a student here, so if anyone knows anything, or maybe saw something, now is the time to speak up.”
No one says a word as the officers survey the class with expectant expressions. I swallow hard, looking at Holden out of the corner of my eye. He flicks a pencil between his thumb and forefinger, appearing bored, but I know it’s an act. The all-black getup. The bloody nose. It was him. It wasn’t some pissed-off husband he was running from. It was the police, and by letting him in my car, I unknowingly became an accomplice.
Tell Me Pretty Lies Page 9
