Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

  What the hell was that about? Their friendship has never made sense to me, and this only adds to my confusion.

  I hurry to my last period, quietly slipping into class and taking the empty desk next to Holden, who tosses me a wink. I wonder if he’s in on whatever’s going on with Christian and Baker, or if he’s in the dark like I am. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

  An hour later, the bell rings, and Holden and I walk out of class together. Valen has a cheer thing, and I won’t see her tonight, so we head straight for the student parking lot.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Holden says, stopping short. I stop with him, looking at him expectantly. He reaches into his pocket before producing a small bundle of black fabric, then he’s dangling it from his index finger. “I think these belong to you.”

  My cheeks burn when I realize he’s holding my shorts from the other night and my hand shoots out to snatch them from him. “What the hell!” I stuff them into my backpack, looking around to make sure no one else just saw Holden Ames returning what will surely appear to be my underwear to onlookers.

  “What?” he asks with mock sincerity. “I found these bad boys stuffed in the couch cushion. Thought you might want them back.”

  I flatten my lips, speed walking toward my car, and I hear his chuckle behind me.

  “Come on, Shayne.” He laughs, catching up to me.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “It’s funny, though. I don’t recall you taking your clothes off on my couch. Seems like something I’d remember.” He arches one dark eyebrow, his eyes roaming my body. “Could it be that a certain movie got you all worked up?”

  I snort. “You wish.”

  “I mean, I get it. It got me hot, too, but next time don’t wait for me to pass out before you take care of it. I’m more than happy to lend my services.”

  “God, you’re gross,” I say, rolling my eyes, both relieved and embarrassed that he thinks I masturbated on his couch while he was asleep rather than hooking up with his brother.

  “It’s part of my charm,” he says, gripping his chest.

  He has a point.

  “On a serious note…” he says as I hop into the driver’s seat. He stands between me and the door, one hand braced on the top of my car. “Next week.”

  It’s all he has to say. Next week is the one-year anniversary of Danny’s death. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime has passed, and other times only seconds. I nod in understanding, waiting for him to continue.

  “The school’s planning some memorial tribute thing for Danny. I don’t know if you have a game or whatever—”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Holden. Of course I’ll be there.” I jerk on his shirt, pulling him in for a hug. He locks both arms around my head, holding me to his chest, the scent of his cologne and deodorant smothering me.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, shoving him off me, and then he’s mussing up my hair with his heavy palm before throwing my door shut and walking away.

  Maybe it’s Danny’s anniversary. Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in a long time I feel like I have a piece of my family back, but instead of being happy or content, I feel…like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like it’s all going to be taken from me again. It’s only a matter of when.

  Thayer

  “So, should I just expect you here all the time now?” my dad asks as I’m walking through the front door, before I’ve even had the chance to put my keys down.

  “Something on your mind, old man?” I’m not in the mood for this shit. I run a hand through my hair, shaking the rain out of it.

  He pours two fingers of whiskey into a tumbler, setting the bottle down with a loud thud against the countertop. I take one look at his bloodshot eyes and know he’s had a few more before that one. He wasn’t ever around much to begin with, and I preferred it that way, but since Danny’s death, here’s here even less. On the rare occasion he is around, he’s hammered—not that I blame him. His wife abandoned him and his kids, and then his favorite son died. That’s not including countless failed relationships and one failed engagement. Life hasn’t exactly been a picnic for him.

  “Just that you’re home an awful lot lately for someone who’s going to school on my dime.”

  “I’ve got it under control.” I keep it short, knowing this could easily turn into a blowout that I don’t have the energy for, then turn for the stairs.

  “Do you, though?”

  I stop in my tracks, looking at him over my shoulder. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t have all night.”

  He moves around the counter, advancing on me. “I’m saying you’re not going to continue to throw your life away under my roof. Starting after the memorial, you’re gone. You go to class. You get your shit together.”

  “And if I don’t?” I challenge.

  “Then consider yourself cut off.”

  A slow smile spreads across my face. “If you think money is what motivates me, you clearly don’t fucking know me at all.” Not giving him a chance to respond, I turn on my heels, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You want me gone? I’m gone.”

  His shocked expression is the last thing I see before I slam the door behind me, prowling out into the rain. He really thought he could use money to get his way? Why the fuck does he suddenly have an issue with my being here, anyway? Money isn’t a factor. I know that much. My tuition is chump change for him. Maybe he knows more about Danny than he’s letting on, and he doesn’t want me sniffing around. Who the fuck knows?

  Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I know where I want to be. Before I can think better of it, I bypass my car, walking into the woods instead. The Hellcat is loud as fuck, and I don’t want to wake her mom. I pull out my phone, using it to light my way through the pitch-black trees, past the lightning tree, past the barn, and finally, to the edge of the property where her grandmother’s house sits.

  Both Shayne’s car and her mom’s Jeep are in the driveway, so I go for Shayne’s window on the side of the house. I shove my phone into my pocket, then curl my fingers around the cool metal edges of the wet screen, popping it off easily. Hoisting myself up, I swing my leg through her open window and stand, my wet boots leaving a puddle on her floor. The moonlight barely peeks through the trees enough for me to make out her sleeping form. Her back is to me, and she has one bare, tanned leg hooked over the top of her blankets.

  Without thinking of the consequences, I kick off my boots and strip down until I’m in nothing but my boxers. Trying to keep my steps light, I slide into bed behind her, curling my arm around her waist.

  “Thayer,” she says my name on a sleepy moan. The fact that she knows me, even in sleep, is enough to give me a semi. I pull her closer until her back is flush to my front, her hot skin warming my cold chest. She gasps at the feeling, fully awake now, her body tensing against me.

  “It’s me,” I say quickly, not wanting her to scream and wake her mom.

  “Thayer?” she asks, her voice raspy with sleep as she rolls over to face me. “What are you doing here?” She sits up and the blanket falls away, revealing her body. She’s wearing nothing but a ribbed, white tank top and underwear. Even in the dark, I can see the outline of her nipple piercings.

  “I don’t know,” I say, giving her the honest answer.

  “Are you okay?” Her brows furrow and she runs a hand through her wild hair to push it out of her face.

  I don’t respond. I curl my hand behind her thigh, prompting her to lift her knee to straddle me. I roll onto my back, smoothing my hands up the tops of her thighs, watching her nipples harden beneath the thin fabric. I can feel the warmth of her pussy through her underwear as she grinds against me ever so slightly, but I squeeze her thighs, stopping her movements.

  She pouts, looking down at me in question.

  “Come here,” I say, my voice suddenly thick. She repositions herself, her legs straight between mine, her face i
nches above me. I slide my hand into her hair, bringing her mouth to mine. Shayne’s lips part on a moan, her tongue sliding against mine. Her hands come up to cup my face, one leg hitching up onto my hip in an effort to get closer. I grip her hips that rock against me, trying hard to ignore that I could be inside her with a few quick adjustments. My thumbs rub the exposed skin above the waistband of her underwear, and she sucks on my tongue, making my dick swell even more.

  “Stop,” I say, breaking away from the kiss, demonstrating self-control I didn’t know I possessed. Shayne pulls back, confusion shining in her eyes. “I didn’t come for this.”

  “Then what did you come for?” she whispers.

  I don’t know. I don’t know how to tell her that I just wanted to be near her, to fucking feel her. To be selfish for one night before we go back to our game of cat and mouse. Instead of saying any of that, I shift out from beneath her, then roll onto my side, bringing her back to my front again. I shove my right arm under the pillow beneath my head, then flatten my left hand against her stomach, holding her close. I can feel her heart beating, her breathing still ragged, but slowly, I feel the tension leave her body, her breathing returning to normal.

  I lazily drag my lip piercings back and forth across her skin from her neck to the tip of her bare shoulder, loving the way she shivers and melts into me.

  “How did you know my window would be open?” she murmurs, her voice telling me she’s on the brink of falling asleep.

  “It’s raining. You always leave your window open when it rains.”

  Shayne

  I stare down at my phone, willing it to light up with a response from Grey. I texted him about Danny’s memorial ceremony, and he said he’d think about it. I really thought he’d show, and I think Thayer and Holden are using his presence, or lack thereof, to determine whether he’s hiding something or not. If he’s guilty of something, he wouldn’t dare show his face. On the flip side, if he isn’t, he wouldn’t miss it. Would he? I know my brother. I know he wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone Danny, but what if he knows something? His suspicious behavior is getting harder and harder to justify, not only to Thayer and Holden, but to myself. And the fact that I’m even doubting him is, in turn, making me feel guilty.

  “Still nothing?” Valen asks, looking over my shoulder at my phone.

  I shake my head, stuffing my phone into my jacket pocket as August makes his way to the podium at the top of the stairs outside the school entrance. Thayer, Holden, and William are seated behind the podium, along with Christian and his parents, Samuel and Elyse. I’ve only met Samuel a handful of times at various family gatherings, but I don’t think we’ve ever had an actual conversation. He’s tall and imposing, like the rest of the Ames men, but he seems more approachable than August and William. Maybe it’s due to the fact that he actually smiles. The people of Sawyer Point must love him, seeing as how he’s an elected official.

  I feel a sprinkle on the back of my hand, but the scent of impending rain tipped me off twenty minutes ago. The Ames family is protected by the awning, but the rest of the town huddles together, sharing umbrellas with the people who came prepared. The school’s orchestra plays some sad classical piece as a couple of students pass out white candlesticks for everyone to hold.

  I look up at Thayer, who manages to look both lethal and elegant in his peacoat with a dress shirt and tie underneath, then back down at my oversized tan Sherpa jacket, black leggings, and Adidas, feeling underdressed. I wish I would’ve worn something more appropriate for the occasion. Always a bit of a rebel, his hair is still disheveled, mussed in that perfectly imperfect way, and he kept his piercings in. His face is blank, void of emotion, but his sad eyes give him away.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, his eyes scan the crowd, seeking me out. He holds my gaze and I attempt to give him a reassuring smile. I know he’s not looking forward to this. If there are two things Thayer hates, it’s being in the spotlight and emotions. Add in the reason for this gathering and it’s the perfect shit storm.

  Valen’s outstretched arm appears in front of me, handing me a lit candle with a paper around the bottom to catch the wax, pulling my attention away from Thayer.

  “Thanks.”

  I turn around, searching for Grey once more, but deep down, I know he’s not coming. I do, however, spot my mom on the perimeter, and she holds up her hand, giving me a discrete wave of her fingers, still in her flight attendant getup. She had a quick flight today, but she leaves tomorrow morning for a long trip, so I doubt she’ll stick around long. It has to be uncomfortable for her to show her face around these people, but Danny was practically her stepson, and splitting from August doesn’t change that.

  The music comes to an end as August’s voice fills the air. “Thank you to the Sawyer Point orchestra,” he says before clearing his throat. “It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since my son was taken from me—from all of you—from this earth. Daniel was a light in this community. He loved his family and friends, he loved his school, he loved the game, and most of all, he loved his brothers.”

  Thayer’s hands tighten into fists on top of his thighs.

  “Our family aren’t the only ones who suffered a loss,” August continues. “The entire town mourned with us. Prayed with us. And ultimately, it was your love and support that got us through it.”

  He’s really laying it on thick. Thayer must think so, too, if the way he rolls his eyes is anything to go by. I slide my gaze over to Holden to find a similar reaction. He bounces his knee, appearing antsy already and it’s only just started. Christian looks down at the ground, twisting his fingers.

  “In his honor, we’ve started the Daniel Ames Memorial Scholarship Fund. Each year, two students will receive a twenty-thousand-dollar scholarship.”

  Everyone applauds, but I fight an eyeroll. The people of Sawyer Point aren’t exactly in need of assistance. August holds up a hand, silencing.

  “Daniel’s college experience was cut short. It is my hope that out of this tragedy can come something good. We’ll be able to make a difference in the lives of young people for years to come and keep Daniel’s memory alive.”

  Another round of soft applause.

  “I think Coach Shaw has something else he’d like to announce.”

  The basketball coach joins them at the stop of the steps. He shakes August’s hand before August returns to the empty seat between Holden and William, then takes the podium.

  “It’s starting to come down,” he starts, gesturing to the rain. “So, I’ll keep this short.

  Danny, as we called him, was an exceptionally talented player, and an even better kid. I was lucky to have him on my team, and lucky to know him. As most of you know, last year a lot of you petitioned to have Danny’s number retired.”

  Coach looks back at Christian and Holden, and they take that as their cue to stand. They walk behind the row of seats to retrieve something out of a large box, then make their way up to the podium, each of them holding a side. They prop it up on the stand, then remove the black fabric to reveal a large shadow box that holds Daniel’s jersey, with the number sixteen below his last name. A couple of pictures line the side of the frame, along with what appears to be a quote that I’m unable to read from where I’m standing.

  “I’m happy to announce that we’ve made that happen. This will hang in the gymnasium lobby. That way a piece of Danny will always be with us here at Sawyer Point High.”

  People clap, and some guy—presumably from the basketball team—cheers loudly before a couple of his friends join in. Holden and Christian bring the jersey back to the box behind the chairs before returning to their seats. Once the noise dies down, a projector screen to the left lights up. “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan plays as a picture of Danny as a baby fills the screen, then one as a toddler holding a basketball, one of him and Thayer on the beach at maybe four and five years old, another one of all three brothers opening presents on Christmas morning.

  When he reaches middle sch
ool, it becomes a timeline of all of his awards and achievements, everything from sports to academics. As the song winds down, the pictures become more recent. A shot of him during a basketball game after scoring the winning point with his hands in the air as his team runs to bombard him, one of him in his cap and gown at graduation. His senior photo. And the last one is of Danny, Thayer, Holden, and Christian at the falls, of all places, standing in a line with their arms over each other’s shoulders. I remember that day. It was one of the last good ones we had all together.

  My chin starts to tremble as the tears I’m trying so hard to keep from falling finally spill over, and Valen puts her arm around me, pulling me into her. She sniffs, and I know she’s crying, too, as I wrap my arms around her middle, careful to hold the candle away from her. My shoulders start to shake, and I turn my head into her chest to hide my face. The only thing worse than crying is crying in public. Not that anyone would fault me. There isn’t a dry eye in sight. Still, I feel like I’m under a microscope, like everyone reads into every little thing I do.

  A loud sound coming from the top of the steps has me pulling back to see Thayer storming away, his chair tipped over behind him. The crowd parts as he cuts through it. I want to follow him, to make sure he’s okay, but people are already suspecting something as it is. I can’t risk raising his dad’s suspicion. As he’s passing me, I catch his palm in mine. He doesn’t look at me, keeping his gaze forward, but his thumb glides over my wrist, caressing the faint scar there. The entire thing happens in less than two seconds, and then he’s prowling toward the parking lot.

  Holden stands to go after him, but William stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He says something in his ear, and Holden’s nostrils flare, his jaw set tight as he reluctantly takes his seat. The slideshow ends, and August thanks everyone for coming.