Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

  I sit back, folding my arms across my chest, pissed that he dragged me into this.

  When it’s clear that no one is going to talk, he speaks again. “All right, well, if anyone has any information, I’ll leave our card with your teacher.” He turns to Mr. Turner. “Thanks for letting us interrupt.”

  Mr. Turner nods, shaking the officer’s hand. Everyone breaks out in chatter about what could’ve possibly happened and who it could be. As the officers near my desk, one narrows his eyes, regarding me warily. He pauses next to me, tapping two knuckles on my desk.

  “Shayne Courtland?” he asks, and my eyes lift to meet his.

  “Yeah?” My stomach drops, anxiety making my heart rate double.

  “Mind if we have a word with you in the hall for a second?”

  “Um.” I look around, not knowing what to say.

  “It’ll only take a minute,” he says, assuring me. I nod, pushing out of my desk. I chance a glance at Holden, and I can tell he’s nervous by the way his jaw tenses.

  “Are they even allowed to do that?” some girl I don’t know asks in a hushed tone.

  “It’s not like they’re interrogating anyone,” a kid named Jason replies. “They don’t need permission to talk to us.”

  “He’s right. It’s at the school’s discretion,” Mr. Turner explains. “Now let’s get back to work.”

  I fold my arms over my chest as I follow them out of the classroom. As soon as we’re in the hall and the door is closed, they don’t waste any time getting to the point. “There was a car stopped on Arrowhead Trail at the same time of the incident that matches your vehicle’s description.”

  I blink, surprised. “How do you know what car I drive?” How do they know me at all?

  “Small town,” the second officer supplies after they exchange a look. “We were actually about to call you up to the front. Did you happen to see anything?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “So, why were you stopped in the middle of the road?” Suspicious eyes narrow at me.

  The question catches me off guard. I should tell the truth. I don’t owe Holden a thing, and this kind of trouble is the last thing I need. Arms still folded, I turn my head toward the window in the door, seeking him out. He’s watching me intently, his expression unreadable.

  “It was a deer,” I say, peeling my eyes away from Holden.

  “A deer,” he repeats, skepticism lacing his tone.

  I bob my head. “Yeah. It shot out of the woods,” I swipe the air with my arm, “and ran right in front of my car.”

  Officer number one looks over at the other one, the two of them having a silent conversation. It’s not like it’s an unlikely story. It happens all the time.

  “Did you hit it?”

  “No. I slammed on the brakes in time, but it spooked me. I took a minute to collect myself, and then I drove home.”

  Officer number two pulls out a notepad, writing something down.

  “Did I do something wrong? Do I need to call my mom?” I frown, giving them my best wide-eyed innocent look, pushing my lips into a pout.

  “No, no,” officer number one is quick to reassure me. “We’re about done here. You didn’t happen to see anyone on your way home?”

  I mash my lips together, pretending to think it over. “No, not that I can recall.”

  “Okay.” He sighs. “If you happen to remember anything that might be useful…” he trails off, stretching out his hand to offer me his card. I take it from between his two fingers, nodding as I read the information.

  Edward Wood

  Officer- Badge #580

  Sawyer Point Police Department

  Underneath that are his email, phone, and fax number.

  “Thanks.”

  “Have a good one,” he says while the other guy dips his chin before turning to leave. “And watch out for deer.”

  The tension leaves my shoulders and I breathe out a sigh of relief while walking back into class. I ignore Holden for the rest of class, even though I can feel his eyes on me, and when the bell rings, I’m the first one out the door. Holden catches up to me and captures my elbow, spinning me around to face him.

  “Thank you.” His eyes that remind me so much of Thayer’s don’t hold their usual mirth. He’s being sincere, letting the mask slip just a little.

  “Whatever you’re doing, leave me out of it.”

  “What’s your problem?” he asks, frowning, as if he genuinely doesn’t understand.

  “My problem? We could go to jail,” I whisper-yell through clenched teeth, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.

  Holden scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. “Relax, no one is going to jail.”

  “I realize that you’re essentially above the law, but we normal people don’t have the luxury of having families with deep pockets.”

  “You really think I’d let you go out like that?”

  “What am I supposed to think? A couple weeks of playing nice don’t change the past year.”

  Something like hurt flashes in his eyes, but he hides it almost as quickly as it came. “Fair enough.” He looks me up and down, as if seeing me in a new light, taking a couple backwards steps away from me.

  “Holden—”

  “Nah. I get it.” He turns his back to me, and I sigh.

  “What was that about?” Valen asks, sidling up to me.

  “I think I just hurt his feelings.”

  “He has feelings?” She mock gasps.

  “Apparently so.”

  “Interesting.” She tilts her head, looking after his retreating form as he disappears into the crowd of students milling around for a second before turning back to me. “Are you, like, so ready for the big game tonight?” she asks in a ridiculous Valley Girl accent.

  “Totally. Are you coming?”

  “That depends. Are you coming out with me this weekend?”

  I press my lips together, unimpressed. “Sure.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  When we turn to leave, her for the parking lot and me for the gym, I spot Ms. Thomas heading our way.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while, Shayne,” she says, subtle as ever as she passes by. “Stop by this week?” she phrases it as a question, but we both know it’s a warning.

  I nod my answer and she gives me a thumbs-up before turning the corner. I’ve been distracted, and honestly, with Thayer taking away my access to the barn, I haven’t felt like writing.

  “I gotta go,” I tell Valen. Coach decided we should have some team bonding beforehand, so instead of going home, I get to go out for ice cream with the team. Yay. And to make matters worse, as varsity players, we have to sit through the freshmen and JV games to show our support before we play.

  “Good luck, buttercup.” Valen slaps my butt. “Break a leg or whatever.”

  We won the game.

  I’m hot, sweaty, and still on an adrenaline high as I walk out of the gym toward the parking lot. I didn’t realize how much I missed this feeling until tonight. I can’t even complain about the team-bonding trip. With Coach there, Taylor didn’t pull any of her shit, and hanging out with some of my old teammates felt good. Valen left right after the game, knowing it would be a while before I could break away from the team, and with Mom on another overnight trip, I’m all alone, but even that’s not enough to get me down.

  That is, until I see my car. Flat on the ground with the tires—all four by the looks of it—slashed. You have got to be shitting me. Anger burns a hole in the pit of my stomach, my fingernails leaving half-moon indents on the insides of my palms. The fact that they’re still doing this to me even after I’ve gone out of my way not only to help Holden, but also to keep him out of trouble is unbelievable.

  “Oh my God,” a soft, high-pitched voice says behind me. I turn around to see Ashley, one of the girls from my team. “Who would do that?”

  “Oh, I know exactly who.” I clench my fists, wanting to scream. But instead, I take a deep breath t
o compose myself before speaking again. “Hey, do you think you could give me a ride home?” I’m not going to roll over and play dead anymore.

  “Yeah, of course,” she says, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “I’m right here.” She points to a little silver sports car.

  “Thanks.” I follow her to the car, getting in on the passenger side before pulling my seatbelt over my chest. “Do you know where I live?”

  She starts the car with a push of the button. “Not unless you’re still living at Whittemore.” Her voice holds a hint of an apology.

  “Actually, that’s exactly where I want you to take me.”

  Thayer

  “Think they know it was you?” I ask my dumb fuck of a brother. Holden shakes his head.

  “Nah. They went class to class asking everyone.”

  “They came to mine, too,” Christian says, slouched back in his chair. “They don’t know shit.”

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” I ask Holden for the tenth time since the other night. His impulsiveness isn’t anything new, but this shit is on another level. When I left a few weeks ago, he seemed like he was ready to let it go.

  “I told you. I was drunk as shit. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Yeah, well. Next time you decide to go all mission impossible and bash the fuck out of a detective’s vehicle, fill us in first.”

  He twirls a beer cap on the tabletop, a weird look on his face.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Our girl had my back. Again.”

  My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, ignoring that he referred to Shayne as our girl. “How so?”

  “She was sitting right next to me when those cops came in our class. They pulled her out of class to question her. She had the chance to rat my ass out, but she didn’t.”

  “Yet,” Christian tacks on.

  Holden shrugs. “It’s possible. I don’t know, man. I trust her.”

  Once again, Shayne manages to fuck with my head, and I don’t know which version of her is the real one.

  The sound of the front door flying open and hitting the wall has all three of us jumping up, ready for a fight. What I don’t expect is to see Shayne storming into the kitchen in her volleyball uniform looking both fine as fuck and deadly. When she sees that we’re all here, she falters for half a second before pulling it together.

  “Which one of you assholes did it?”

  Her hair is in a messy ponytail, cheeks flushed, and she’s wearing those spandex shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, knee pads still around her legs. My dick jumps in my pants at the sight of her.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” I tell her, crossing my arms over my chest. The other night, she couldn’t get out of here fast enough, and now she’s practically breaking the door down like she owns the place?

  “My car,” she says through clenched teeth. “You slashed my tires.”

  I turn to look at Holden and Christian, eyebrows raised in question. Both of them hold their hands up, proclaiming their innocence.

  “I’m done. I’ve put up with your pranks, I’ve let you push me around out of, I don’t know, guilt,” she rambles. “I’ve saved your ass, kept your secrets.” She points at Holden. “And this is how you repay me?”

  He steps to her, closing the distance between them. “It wasn’t me. But you made it clear earlier that you want to think the worst of me, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, stubbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to manipulate me and make me feel guilty for being honest.”

  I don’t know what they’re talking about now, but it’s clear that I’ve missed something, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Like they’re in on something I’m not.

  “It wasn’t us,” he says again, throwing up his arms. He shakes his head, frustrated, and sits back down at the table.

  Shayne looks over at me in question.

  “I’d like to think I’m a little more creative than that.”

  “You mean like the cockroaches?” she throws back. “That was pretty clever.”

  I move toward her, crowding her space. “I’m getting real sick of being accused of shit I didn’t do.” She tries to hold her ground, but the way her throat moves when she swallows hard gives away her nerves. “You seem to think I spend a lot more time thinking about you than I do. Don’t flatter yourself.” It’s a flat-out fucking lie that she hasn’t occupied every one of my thoughts since she’s been back, and even before that if I’m being honest with myself. But she doesn’t have to know that.

  “Right. And it wasn’t you who threw me into your car against my will either, I’m sure. Just some other guy wearing your face.”

  Touché.

  “Boys,” I hear my father holler from the foyer. “Were you raised by wolves? Why is the front door wide open?”

  At the sound of his voice, Shayne’s expression morphs from anger to fear in record time. I think about sneaking her out the back, not wanting my father involved in any of this, but it’s too late, because two sets of footsteps grow louder, about to walk in at any moment.

  Both my father and grandfather appear wearing matching uncertain expressions. “Shayne,” my father says, trying—and failing—to sound pleasant. “Well, I must say this is a surprise.”

  “Hi…Mr. Ames,” she stumbles on her words, not knowing how to refer to him anymore. Not that she ever called him Dad. Her wide eyes dart to mine, begging me to save her.

  He appraises her for a moment, and unease pricks my spine. They haven’t seen each other in nearly a year, and I have no idea how he’s going to react to her being here in the house. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know you can call me August.” He smiles. “I’ve been meaning to check in since I heard you were back.”

  “I was just taking her home,” I cut in before she can respond, angling my body in front of hers.

  “Of course,” he says easily, his eyes shifting between the two of us, but the moment we walk out that door, I know he’s going to demand answers. And I can only hope that Holden and Christian will come up with something halfway believable. “Give Elena my condolences.”

  He’s doing his best to be polite, but my grandfather, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have the same idea. He eyes her with such disdain that it catches me off guard. Seems I’m not the only one harboring a grudge. Even more surprising is the fact that my need to protect her is still alive and well, buried underneath all the resentment. Talk about fucked up.

  “Sure.” Shayne nods, a frown tugging at her pretty features.

  I shoot Holden a look telling him to do damage control and he gives me an almost imperceptible nod to let me know he’s got it, and then I’m walking out of the house with Shayne right behind me.

  Shayne

  What was I thinking? I cannot believe I just barged into Whittemore like a psycho. Going over there was a half-baked plan at best. I didn’t know if anyone would be home, but I definitely didn’t expect to see August. He’s never home. Even when we lived there, I could count how many times I interacted with him on both hands. If I thought Thayer was cold, August was ice. But the two of them have nothing on his grandfather.

  He’s old money and has that air of superiority thing down pat. He clearly hasn’t forgotten our last encounter at the funeral, if the way he was looking at me is anything to go on. It was as if he was trying to see inside my soul and figure out my motive.

  Thayer walks ahead of me, heading for his matte black Challenger Hellcat. Even his vehicle manages to look sinister. I ignore the way my stomach flips at the idea of being inside it again. He unlocks the door, and I slip into the smooth leather seat, pulling my seatbelt over my chest.

  “Where’s your car?” Thayer asks, looking straight ahead at the dark driveway. He pushes the ignition button, and the engine roars to life, the seat vibrating beneath me. A thrill shoots up my spine remembering how it felt to fly dow
n the back roads at night with Thayer’s hand cupping my thigh.

  “Shayne. Your car. Where is it?” Thayer repeats.

  I scoff. “Like you don’t know.”

  His nostrils flare, clearly losing patience as he looks over at me.

  “Okay, fine. You didn’t do it,” I concede, crossing my arms and sitting back in my seat. “It’s in the student parking lot. Came out after my game and found it like that.” But if he didn’t do it, then who did? Taylor wouldn’t have had the time. She was with me for the better part of the day, anyway. Unease creeps in, and I find myself wishing it had been Thayer. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

  We spend the remainder of the short drive home in silence as “What It Is to Burn” plays softly. So many things run through my mind, and I want to take advantage of this rare display of human decency by asking him everything he’s avoided telling me. Why did he go cold on me that night in the barn? What happened after I left? Why doesn’t he seem to ever go to school? But my pride won’t let me ask any of those things.

  “Your mom gone?” he asks, and I can hear the judgment in his tone. He dips his head to look out of the windshield at my house. No lights. No cars. No movement.

  “Out of town for work,” I say shortly.

  “She do that often?”

  I snort out a laugh. “You mean work? Yeah. She doesn’t have the luxury of staying home.” My tone is snotty and defensive, but I’ve seen how people in this town have treated her. I’ve heard the whispers. But for it to come from Thayer, when his dad is the one who left her high and dry, it’s a low blow.

  “Thanks for the ride.” I push the door open, and by the time I get out and close it behind me, Thayer’s out of the car, rounding the hood of his Challenger.

  “Is there something you’re trying to say?” he asks, coming to a stop in front of his lit headlights.

  “Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouth.”

  He chuckles darkly, closing the distance between us. I take a step back, the backs of my thighs hitting the front bumper. “Is that what this is about?” he asks, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, and I fight the shiver that threatens to roll through me. It’s not fair for his touch to be so sweet when his words cut like a knife. It’s not fair that he still has this effect on me. He widens his stance, making our height difference less apparent. “Because you didn’t seem to care about that when you were begging me to fuck you.”