Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

  When the crowd starts to disperse, I blow out my candle, then hand it over to Valen. “I’m going to talk to Holden.”

  She nods. “Go. Call me later.”

  I pull her in for a hug, seeing Holden and Christian walking away behind her. But they’re not going for the parking lot. They’re going around the school, I’m assuming for the student parking lot, while August and Samuel are distracted by people giving their condolences and commending their generosity. I start in their direction, but my mom calls my name, stopping me in my tracks.

  Shit. I forgot she was here.

  “Where are you going?” she asks, concern etched into her features. Her eyes are glassy from crying, but she still looks like a million bucks.

  “Oh,” I hesitate, trying to think of something. “I need to grab something from my locker before they lock up for the night,” I say, hitching a thumb over my shoulder.

  “Okay. Want me to wait for you?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m supposed to meet up with Valen. If that’s okay with you…”

  She twists her lips, considering, and every second feels like an hour because I just want to find Thayer. But first, I need to talk to Holden.

  “Fine.” She sighs, pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll be gone by the time you wake up, so tell me you love me.” She pats my hair as she holds on to me.

  “I love you,” I assure her. “Have a safe trip.”

  When she leaves, I sprint up the stairs and toward the school. Thankfully, the doors are still unlocked, so I decide to go through the hall and out the back entrance instead of around the perimeter to shave off time. My wet shoes squeak against the hall floor as I jog down the hall, and when I push the back doors open, I spot Holden’s Rover pulling out of the lot.

  “Shit,” I hiss.

  I pull out my phone to text him, but I catch movement to my left in my peripheral vision, and I look over to see Christian and his dad, Samuel, having what appears to be a heated discussion next to Samuel’s Mercedes. I slip behind a pillar to keep from being seen. Samuel’s face is centimeters from Christian’s, and although I can’t hear what he’s saying, I know they’re not discussing the weather. Christian’s hands are balled into fists at his side, his spine ramrod straight, as if it’s taking everything in him to not react.

  Samuel’s hands shoot out to fist Christian’s collar, and then he’s throwing him up against the side of the car. Jesus. I wasn’t expecting that. Apparently, he isn’t as genial as he seems. Christian says something, and suddenly, Samuel’s fist cocks back and smashes into the side of his face. I gasp, slapping a hand over my mouth, stomach churning. He does it again and again, and when Christian slides down the side of the car, landing in a puddle on the ground, Samuel kicks him in the stomach, causing him to groan in pain.

  I don’t think. I just react. I charge toward them without considering the consequences. All I know is that if I don’t step in, Christian could get seriously injured. Christian spots me first, his eyes widening as if warning me to stay out of sight. Even if I wanted to listen, it’s too late, because Samuel takes notice, turning to look at me over his shoulder with a crazed look in his eyes. He takes a step back from Christian, smoothing out his suit jacket and schooling his features as I drop to my knees to help him up.

  “Get away from me,” Christian grumbles, clutching his stomach.

  I frown, trying to pull him to his feet anyway, but he jerks out of my grasp and stands on his own. Blood drips from his lip and he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Rising to my feet, I look between them. Adrenaline has my heart pounding in my ears, apprehension creeping up my spine at the way Samuel’s looking at me.

  “Look what you’ve done,” Samuel says to Christian before turning back for me. He advances on me, and instinctively, I take a step back. Suddenly, I’m not feeling so brave.

  “Dad,” Christian says, but he ignores it, closing the distance between us.

  “As you can imagine, it’s been a bit of an emotional night.” His voice is calm but deadly, and I slip my hand into my jacket pocket, gripping my self-defense keychain in the shape of kitty ears that Grey gave me a couple years back. “It would be a shame if you had the wrong impression of me.”

  I shake my head, slipping my fingers through the holes of the keychain, ready to use it if need be, but hoping like hell that it doesn’t come to that.

  “This is family business, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how imperative it is that it stays that way.”

  I look over at Christian whose eyes beg me to back down, but I straighten my shoulders, steeling my voice. “Just leave him alone and I won’t say anything.”

  Samuel’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead as he chuckles, looking back at Christian. When he turns back to face me, the amusement is gone, replaced with barely contained rage. “Pretty bold of you to tell me how to handle my son.”

  I swallow hard as he takes another threatening step toward me.

  “Dad!” Christian yells, and this time his voice is firmer. Samuel pauses. “She won’t tell anyone. I’ll handle it.”

  Samuel runs a hand through his hair to smooth it back in place before turning back around for his car. “Clean up your own mess this time,” he spits, stubbing a finger into Christian’s chest. Without another word from either of them, he’s gone, leaving Christian and me alone in the parking lot.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Are you?”

  “I’m fine. Listen, Thayer and Holden…” he trails off, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

  “They don’t know,” I guess, finishing his sentence. He nods. I start to wonder how something like this can go unnoticed, but then I realize that I never once suspected anything either and I practically lived with the guy. Christian stays at Whittemore so often he has his own room there, and I never noticed any bruises or injuries.

  Maybe this is why he doesn’t like to stay with his own parents.

  “How long has this—”

  Christian shakes his head, cutting me off. “I don’t want to talk about it. You looking for Thayer?”

  “I was trying to catch a ride with Holden. I came with Valen.”

  “Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward his Black BMW in the spot next to where Samuel was parked. He digs his keys out of his pocket, wincing with the movement.

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  “I’ve got it,” he says, his tone clipped.

  Once we’re inside the car, he starts the engine and I pull the seatbelt across my chest. Neither one of us speaks as he pulls out of the lot, heading toward Whittemore.

  “What are you going to tell them?” I ask, referring to his bruised and bloody state.

  “I’ll handle it.” His hands tighten around the steering wheel.

  “Okay.”

  Shayne

  When we pull up to Whittemore, the first thing I notice is that Thayer’s Hellcat isn’t here. A sinking feeling hits my gut as Christian pulls the car around the fountain, coming to a stop right at the steps. Unbuckling, I open the door and hop out, but I stop when I notice Christian doesn’t make any move to get up.

  “You’re not coming in?” I brace one hand on the top of the door, bending over to see inside the car.

  “I gotta go clean up,” he says, gesturing to his face. Oh, right. “Tell Holden I’ll hit him up later.”

  I gnaw on my lip, stuck between wanting to say something supportive and not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable at the same time. I end up settling with, “Thanks for the ride.” I straighten, turning for the steps, hearing music before I’ve even opened the front door. I have my hand on the handle when Christian’s voice stops me.

  “Shayne.”

  I glance at him over my shoulder, but he doesn’t speak, a conflicted expression on his face.

  “I won’t say anything,” I assure him.

  He gives a sharp nod, his jaw set tight.

  “But you should tell them.”

  He drives
off without responding, and I push the door open, the music growing louder. I tiptoe upstairs, following the sound of “Go Fuck Yourself” into the second floor living room. I don’t know if August is around here somewhere, so I peek around the corner, finding Holden with two near-naked girls kneeling in front of him and a bottle to his lips. His stance is wide, pants around his ankles. His tie is loosened, and his dress shirt hangs open but still clings to his shoulders. One of the girls works his length with her hand and her mouth, while the other one pays attention to his balls.

  I cringe, but I’m unable to look away, caught somewhere between disgusted and intrigued.

  “Hey, baby sister. You’re just in time for the party.”

  The girl sucking on him pulls back, releasing him with a pop, but she doesn’t seem embarrassed by my presence. A scathing response is on the tip of my tongue, but then I notice the sadness in his eyes, and the way he sways on his feet, just a little. He didn’t seem drunk at the memorial. Did he manage to drink that much within the twenty or so minutes it took to get here?

  “Where’s your brother?” I ask, crossing my arms like I’m not affected in the least by the scene before me.

  He gives a bitter laugh. “Six feet under.”

  Jesus, Holden.

  The girls exchange looks, clearly uncomfortable with the awkward turn of events.

  “Oh, you mean Thayer? Probably doing the same thing as me, with any luck.” His smile is wide, but his eyes betray him. He’s testing me, watching for a reaction. And maybe even trying to hurt me.

  He holds my gaze, but I break contact, shaking my head, disappointed, then turn to leave without another word. If it were any other day, I would’ve told him to fuck off. If it were any other day, I’d say screw all of these Ames boys. But tonight, they’re grieving. Tonight, they don’t have anyone looking out for them—evidently, not even each other. Christian’s being secretly abused by his father, Holden’s self-medicating with booze and threesomes, and Thayer’s most likely self-destructing, God knows where.

  These brooding assholes in peacoats are going to be the death of me.

  Thayer

  I couldn’t take another fucking second. I couldn’t sit there while my dad played the part of the grieving father of the golden boy, reducing Danny’s entire life to a collection of accomplishments. As if he was merely an extension of my father, and not his own person. Fake. Every goddamn thing about that bullshit ceremony was fake, right down to the people who cried for him.

  Except Shayne.

  The look on her face reflected everything I was feeling inside, and seeing her cry tonight did something to me. It’s confusing as fuck to want to protect and punish someone at the same time, but I couldn’t do either one, even if I wanted to. All I could do was sit there on display, like a fucking lion in a zoo.

  “Thayer?” Shayne’s voice calls out for me. I should’ve known she’d find me. Might even be the reason I subconsciously chose this place. But I’m too raw, too fucked up to be around her right now. I stand with my head bowed, hands braced in the back of the old leather couch I commandeered for the barn when I started coming here a few years back.

  She walks up next to me, and I feel her warmth against my side, but I don’t lift my gaze.

  “I thought you could use a friend.”

  “I don’t want to be your fucking friend,” I snap.

  “Then what do you want?” she whispers.

  “What do I want?” I repeat, swiveling my head to look up at her. “What I want is for you to leave.”

  “Why?” she grits out through clenched teeth.

  “Because even as you stand there with tears in your eyes, all I want to do is bend you over and fuck you until I don’t feel anything other than your tight ass pussy squeezing my dick. So, unless you want to finish what we started in this barn a year ago, I suggest you leave.”

  I fully expect her to walk away. Maybe even cry. What I don’t expect is for her to push up on the tips of her toes, bringing those full pink lips to my ear.

  “Then do it,” Shayne dares, her tits pressing into me.

  I give a bitter laugh, taking a step back. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you couldn’t handle it.”

  “Try me,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly.

  I clench my jaw so tight I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack under the pressure. I’m trying to do the right thing, but my willpower is fading fast. If she wants to play this game, I won’t be the one to back down. I drop down onto the couch, bringing my hands behind my head as if I’m a paying customer.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Once again, she does the unexpected. Her hands shake as she unzips her jacket, then lets it fall to the floor. Her white t-shirt is next, revealing two black, mesh triangles that do nothing to hide the perfect tits underneath. Those piercings I love so much are visible through the fabric, making my dick even harder. The old Shayne was so concerned with what other people thought that she wasn’t true to herself. The piercings, the black polish on the tips of her fingers, her smart mouth…all proof that she’s running out of fucks to give. And I’ve never wanted her more.

  She swallows hard, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pants before pushing them down her legs and kicking off her shoes. She steps forward in only her bra and matching underwear, away from the pile of discarded clothes. She’s almost close enough to touch. I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes roaming her sweet little body as she lifts one hand to pull out her hair tie, thick blonde hair falling down around her shoulders. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep my hands behind my head.

  Shayne nudges my knee with hers, waiting for further instruction.

  “All of it.”

  She glares at me, even as she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, one hand holding it to her chest. For a second, I think she’s going to forfeit this dangerous game we’re playing, but then her hand falls away, letting her bra drop to the floor between us.

  Fuck. I slide a hand down to squeeze my dick through my pants and Shayne smirks, knowing she’s winning. Her underwear is the last to go, then she’s taking another small step toward me, completely naked now. I finally break, my hands shooting out to grip the back of her thighs. I pull her to my face as I spread her legs from behind. Shayne gasps, her hands flying out to clutch my head for balance as I part her lower lips with my tongue and her gasp turns into a moan as I take one long lick. Her knees almost buckle, but I hold her steady, sucking her clit into my mouth.

  “No,” she breathes, tugging me back by my hair. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, cocking my head to the side in question. She can’t be stopping this now.

  “Your turn,” Shayne says, giving me a pointed look.

  I clench my jaw and hold her stare as I undo the buttons of my shirt, one by one. I must not be fast enough, because then Shayne’s dropping to her knees in front of me, impatient fingers tugging at my belt. I lift up enough to let her pull my pants and boxers down my legs, throwing them behind her. Her eyes lock onto my cock, standing thick and hard. I grip the base, holding it out for her.

  “Sit on me.”

  She doesn’t hesitate, straddling me, one knee on each side. My hands find the dip in her waist as she pushes my shirt over my shoulders, shoving it down my arms. I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction.

  “Thayer,” she breathes out in surprise, her eyebrows pulling together as tentative fingers reach out to trace the lines of ink that run from my shoulder down to my wrist where the lightning hit me. When the marks first started to fade, I decided I wanted to keep them, so I had my scars tattooed over. Showing her felt like admitting I kept a piece of her with me. A piece I wasn’t willing to let go of.

  “When? Why?”

  I bring my mouth to her chest, ignoring her questions as my lips ghost across her nipple while my fingers find her clit. I stroke her until her eyes fall shut, her hands squeezing my shoulders. She’s so fucking wet already.
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  Suddenly, she’s jerking my hand out of the way, lowering herself onto me. As soon as her wet, warm pussy makes contact with the tip of my cock, she freezes, looking into my eyes.

  “Thayer.” Her voice holds a hint of panic, as if she just realized what we’re about to do.

  I should stop her. I should walk away for good. But instead, I say, “Slide down, baby. I’ve got you.”

  Shayne

  “Slide down, baby. I’ve got you.”

  Thayer keeps one hand at my waist and slides the other one through my hair, gripping the back of my neck. I nod wordlessly, and then I’m slowly pushing down on him. His stomach tenses as his thick tip breaches my entrance and the pain is sharp enough to steal my breath. I pause to adjust to the feeling, my wide eyes finding his. This is really happening. Thayer’s finally inside me, and there’s no going back now, even if I wanted to. I lick my lips, and he pulls my mouth to his. My lips part on a moan and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. The more he kisses me, the more I relax. After a few seconds, I start to inch down little by little, stretching around him until he’s fully inside of me, my ass hitting the top of his thighs.

  “Shayne,” he says my name, his strangled voice laced with suspicion.

  “Don’t move,” I say, my voice shaky. My fingers clutch his shoulders, holding on for dear life. Thayer’s dark eyes snap up to mine.

  “This is your first time.” He states it as a fact, not a question.

  I nod, and his eyes flash with something I can’t pinpoint before they squeeze shut.

  “I want this,” I assure him, starting to move my hips in small circles.

  Thayer pulls back, looking down between us with a groan.

  “Fuck.”

  I feel impossibly full in the best way. Thayer hasn’t even moved, and this is already better than anything I’ve ever experienced before. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Thayer. Everything with him is just…more. We are more.