Hateful Lies

by Liv Reid

  18

  V

  We decide to meet on neutral ground. The library. I don’t want to do this, but I also don’t want the Astons to kick me out of school, so I’m going to have to suck it up and meet Logan.

  The party dates were drawn randomly from a hat, and ours ended up being earlier in the year, at the end of October. So we have just a couple of weeks to plan an extravagant party for a bunch of spoiled rich kids at Logan’s family’s beach house.

  As I walk into the old stone building, I’m dreading this. I just want to get it over with as quickly as possible, so I’m praying Logan isn’t too much of a douchebag.

  I find an empty table in a quiet corner and wait for him. He’s late as usual. I take out my psych homework to work on until he arrives—but that just makes me think about what happened in class a month ago with him and that girl… I slam my book closed and take out my calculus homework instead.

  Fifteen minutes later, I see him strut into the room. He’s got his leather jacket on, and his hair looks messy but styled. If he wasn’t such an asshole, he’d be insanely hot.

  There’s a girl with him who I don’t recognize. She’s looking at him with such lust in her eyes it almost makes me gag. She’s hanging off his every word, and I overhear him tell her he has to do “this thing” and she can wait for him until he’s done. I roll my eyes. Have some self respect, girl, I think. Don’t wait around for him.

  But she nods enthusiastically then wanders off to wait somewhere in the library until he’s done, probably so they can go back to his place to screw. A sudden stab of jealousy hits me out of nowhere. What the hell was that? I don’t have time to analyze it though because Logan has spotted me and is coming over to the table.

  He sits down across from me and puts his leather-covered arms on the wood.

  “You ready?” he asks gruffly.

  No “hello”. No “how are you”. He’s so rude, and I despise him so much.

  “Are you?” I shoot back.

  After what he did for me a couple of weeks ago at that party—saving me from Byron Ruster—I was willing to give him a chance. I was never going to like him, but I was willing to at least be civil for the sake of this project. All of that went out the window the second he opened his mouth.

  He glares at me. “Don’t drag this out. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

  I scoff. “And you think I don’t? This doesn’t exactly rank high on my Monday afternoon plans list,” I say, imitating what he said a couple of weeks ago at his mom’s dinner party.

  He rolls his eyes and leans back with a sigh.

  “So what are we going to do for food?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. What do people normally do for these parties? Do we have to make the food?”

  He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Catering, of course.”

  “Ok, I can look up some restaurants that cater.” I pull out my phone and start searching.

  “Activities, alcohol, decor, hosting—you haven’t thought of any of this stuff? I thought you’d practically be done by now, and I would just have to agree.”

  “Excuse me? Why would I almost be done by now? Isn’t that what this meeting is for? For us to figure out all this shit?”

  “I don’t know much about this stuff. I was relying on you because you’re the girl.”

  My temper goes from 50 to 100, real quick. “Are you fucking kidding me, you sexist asshole???”

  I can see he’s genuinely shocked. “All the girls I’ve ever known like this kind of stuff.”

  “I like getting good marks, that’s what I like. I’ve been dirt poor my entire life, when do you think I’ve ever had the time or the money to plan a party?” I hiss.

  “I don’t know,” he answers, genuinely confused.

  “This isn’t on me. If anyone should be planning it, it’s you. You’ve been to a million of these things, so you know what they are supposed to be like. We’re either doing this together or not at all, and I don’t really care either way.”

  He takes a second, as what I said sinks in. I think he’s going to argue, say something rude, make fun of me for being poor, but he just says, “Ok.”

  I’m a bit taken aback, but I try not to show it.

  “Ok,” I say, and Logan takes out his phone and starts planning with me.

  It feels weird, but we are actually making a good team. We’re both no-nonsense people, so we make decisions quickly and decisively. He tells me what others have done in the past, and we copy them.

  I write messages to a couple of caterers and a party supply company, while he writes up a list of everything we need from them.

  We find good playlists we both agree on for background music, and a couple for later in the night when people want to dance. I’m shocked to discover our taste in music is very similar. I didn’t think Logan, with all his privilege and money, would know the underground bands I like, but actually he’s the one who suggests them.

  Halfway through, he takes off his coat, and I see the tattoos on his muscular arms. I briefly think of asking him about them, but then quickly catch myself and shake my head. We aren’t friends, we’re enemies. We’re not going to have a casual conversation about his ink. Get it together, Violet. Remember who he is.

  Near the end of the session, I can’t help but bring up that girl—just because I think it’s so ridiculous. “Is she still waiting for you?”

  “Probably,” he says without looking up from the list he’s writing.

  “Isn’t it weird people will just wait around for you? Waste their time when they have their own lives and their own things they need to do. Like your time is somehow more valuable than theirs?”

  He looks up at me, and his hazel eyes make my heart jump.

  “Not really. I’m used to it.” He smirks, and it makes me angry I even asked. Makes me angry for that girl.

  My lip curls in disgust, and I go back to searching on my phone.

  “I think it’s hilarious when you try to act all high-and-mighty,” he says in a deadly whisper.

  My eyes shoot back up to his. He changed in a second, from casual to dark and intense. His eyes seem like they are staring straight into my soul.

  He doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  “My dad died. How dare you think you have the moral high ground over me. How dare you act like I’m the one who did you wrong. If anyone should be mad at the other, it’s me.”

  “I’m not saying my dad’s a saint—none of us are. Actually, he’s kind of an asshole, but he didn’t do it. He didn’t deserve what you did to him. You lied and accused an innocent man of murder.”

  We are speaking in whispers, but it’s starting to escalate. This is the first time we are really addressing this, and it’s like throwing a match onto a pile of gunpowder that’s just been sitting there the whole time.

  “He’s not innocent. No one in your family is innocent.” I’m so mad I’m practically seeing red. “Your father treated mine terribly. My dad told me if anything happened to him it was going to be because of John Aston. He knew, even before it happened.”

  “Just because my father is a jerk does not make him a murderer,” Logan growls back.

  “I was there! I saw it all!”

  “Then why did you lie?!” Logan shouts at me.

  Fuck this. I stand up and grab my backpack.

  “I know that you know where your dad is,” I snap at him, and his eyes widen the slightest bit in surprise.

  Mr. Aston may be on the run, but with all the resources his family has, there is no way he isn’t still in contact with them. I always suspected it, and the way Logan reacts confirms it.

  “He couldn’t even stay to face his punishment. He ran away like the coward he is.” And with those words, I storm off. I can’t stand to be around Logan for a second longer. I hate him with every fiber of my being.

  19

  L

  No, she fucking doesn’t. She doesn’t
get to walk away from me. She’s the reason my father is hiding somewhere in South America. She’s the reason my mother is depressed and an alcoholic. She’s the reason my brother can’t trust women. And she thinks she’s the victim??

  I get that her dad died, but lying won’t bring him back. I saw what happened that night because I was there too.

  I grab my coat and storm after her.

  Yeah, of course I still speak with my dad. He mostly talks to my brother, and occasionally my mom. I know he’s somewhere in South America, but I don’t know his exact location. We never really got along, my dad and I, but I know he didn’t do it, and I can’t stand liars.

  I find her in a quiet part of the library, walking down a narrow row between bookshelves. She’s heading towards a rarely used exit. Oh, hell no. She’s not getting away from me that easily. I race over, grab her arm and spin her around.

  Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s breathing heavily. Her eyes are wild with hate. She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  She rips her arm out of my grasp. “I hate you!” she spits.

  “I hate you too.”

  Then, before I even realize what I’m doing, I slam my mouth against hers.

  She goes stiff against me, and I suddenly realize what the hell I just did. I move to pull away, but the next second she grabs me violently and pulls me against her with more strength than I ever thought possible for such a small woman. I don’t give it another thought and start kissing her back passionately with everything I have inside of me.

  Her lips feel like heaven against mine, but it’s not a nice kiss. We are both pouring all the hate we feel for each other into it. I attack her mouth angrily, and she meets me head-on.

  I grab her body roughly, and she does the same. Her little fingers dig into my arms, leaving crescent marks in my skin. It turns me on.

  Even before our lips met, I was painfully hard and pressing into the fly of my jeans. I surge against her so she can feel the effect she’s having on me. She gasps as my hard cock presses into her stomach.

  I use the momentary break in our kiss to switch down to her neck. I start leaving angry little hickeys all over the smooth skin. I want her to remember this. I want her to look in the mirror later and remember I was here. She can’t convince herself she didn’t want me because the evidence will be all over her skin. She may be a liar, but she won’t be able to lie to herself about this.

  She snakes her fingers through my hair and then pulls my head roughly away from her neck. She slams her lips back into mine, and then I take over.

  I grab her ass and shove her into the bookshelf. Books rain down on our heads. They collect on the floor with my long-forgotten jacket, but I barely notice.

  I’m trying to consume her with my lips and hands and body. I want all of her, and I want her right. fucking. now.

  I grab her waist with both hands and drag her black tights and panties down her thighs. Those stupid pants that make her ass look so incredibly delicious. She moans loudly against my lips, and I kiss her harder to shut her up.

  I spin her around so she’s grabbing onto the shelves. I hold her there with one hand so she can’t move. With the other, I smack her delicious ass once, twice, three times. Hard.

  The little twitches of her body and surprised moans of pleasure that erupt from her mouth shoot my desire into the stratosphere. I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been before in my entire life—and I’m not even inside of her yet. What is she doing to me?

  I quickly yank down my zipper and my cock pops out eagerly. It’s larger and harder than I’ve ever seen it before—and not to brag, but I’ve never been wanting when it comes to size.

  You like this, Violet? You like getting fucked by someone you hate in the middle of the library where anyone could walk over right now and see us? I normally wouldn’t be this public about it, but I don’t really care. I’m sure she cares more than me, but by the way she’s reacting, it’s the furthest thing from her mind at this moment.

  We are both fully clothed except my cock is out and her ass is exposed. She’s gripping on to the metal bookshelves so hard her knuckles are white. Her back is bent, and her ass is right there for me to take. This is so incredibly hot and naughty.

  I position myself right at her slick entrance. At the first touch of her core heat, I hiss. It’s so hot I feel like she’s going to set me on fire.

  She’s wet and trembling. She wants me.

  I slowly start to push into that delicious, intoxicating heat. My eyes cross, the pleasure is so intense.

  I manage to get just the tip in, and feel that incredible squeeze of her muscles around me, when suddenly it’s gone.

  “Huh?” I reach out to hold on to her, but she pulls away.

  She yanks up her pants, grabs the backpack she dropped when we first violently crashed together, and runs off down the aisle. She never meets my eyes or looks back.

  She disappears around the corner. I then hear the sound of a door open, and she’s gone.

  I’m left standing here, alone and dumbstruck, wondering what the hell just happened. My pants still undone and my hard cock still in my hand.

  20

  V

  OMG OMG OMG. What the hell was that?!?

  I practically sprint across campus, running away from the library—running away from him. I feel shaky and disconnected. I don’t understand what just happened.

  When he pressed his lips against mine, it awoke a fire in me I didn’t know existed. I wanted it. I wanted him—but how?? He’s everything I hate. How could I possibly want that monster? How could my body respond to him like that?

  I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

  But we almost fucked. He was inside of me—and without a condom, too. What is wrong with me?!

  It had taken everything I had to come to my senses. But when I felt him press into my entrance, I suddenly snapped back to reality. As incredible as it felt, I suddenly realized it was Logan who was about to push inside of my body.

  The sick thing is, I wanted it. Despite everything he and his family had done to me, I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything else in the entire world at that moment. It had taken all my strength to pull away and run.

  Please, no. I can’t want him.

  When I get back to my room, Everly is still in class.

  “Thank God,” I mumble and strip off my clothes quickly.

  I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower to scalding. I get in and try to scrub his hands and his lips and his cock off my body. But I know it’s no use. His touch goes way beneath the surface now.

  21

  L

  She’s avoiding me, and it pisses me off because I should be the one avoiding her. It’s been three days since we almost hooked up in the library, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t get her out of my mind.

  I can’t stop thinking about her scent. I keep jerking off remembering how her body felt pressed against mine. Her fingers painfully pulling my hair. Her lips battling with mine like she wanted to consume me whole. Fuck, now I’m horny again.

  I adjust my pants and then go off to find her. I had hoped she would come to me, but she never did. My heart suddenly clenches painfully at the thought, but I ignore it.

  We still have to plan that stupid dinner party. If it wasn’t for that, I would happily never speak to her again as long as I live—and I almost manage to convince myself I’m not lying.

  I try to keep all my hateful memories of her in the forefront of my mind. I try to remember all the reasons I despise her—but all of those are quickly being replaced by the memory of how her body felt in my arms.

  I need to get the hate and anger back by seeing her insufferable, lying face.

  I barely attend my courses, so it takes me a while to find the psych classroom. I’m going today because I know she’ll be here, studious girl that she is.

  As I enter the room, I realize this was the same class where she watched that girl give me a
hand job. Jackie? Was that girl’s name Jackie?… Oh yeah, it was Josie. I remember now, but who cares who it was.

  Josie was supposed to blow me, but I remember just knowing Violet was next to us had turned me on so much I couldn’t make it that far. The memory makes my cock rock-hard, and I curse it before going in.

  I scan the room for that pretty, auburn head. The lecture has already started. The place is packed with a couple hundred students, but I spot her almost instantly. The girl who haunts my dreams and tortures my fantasies. I’d recognize her anywhere.

  She’s sitting a couple of rows down, second seat from the end. There’s a guy in the aisle seat next to her, and he leans over to whisper something. She puts her hand up to her mouth to cover a giggle, and I instantly see red.

  I storm down until I’m standing next to the loser. “Move,” I command.

  He turns to me. I can see the look of annoyance change to fear the second he recognizes who I am. Without another word, he grabs his backpack and gets up.

  Her lips purse in displeasure as I slide into the now empty seat. Well, I don’t want to sit next to you either, Your Majesty. But I can’t help it, her reaction stings a little. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I take a deep, angry breath and run my fingers through my hair—doing that makes me think of when she ran her fingers through it, and I quickly stop.

  I look over at her. Her mouth is pressed in a hard line, clearly annoyed with me. It’s been a couple of days so the marks on her neck are light now. If you didn’t know what happened, you wouldn’t even notice them at all. But I know. And the sight of those slight discolorations sends a jolt of desire straight through me.

  I don’t like her reaction. I don’t like this situation any more than she does, but we still have work to do. She can hate me all she wants as long as we get this done.