“She’s not as innocent as you think.” I left it at that. If he thought there was some delicious secrets under the surface, he’d want to know. Maybe enough to tell me how they met. I was playing on his weaknesses, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to know.
“Beck, what’s wrong with you, being all cryptic and shit? Don’t tell me she’s one of your small-town groupies.” The veins in his forearms popped as he gripped the side of the car.
“Nope. She’s not a groupie at all. I offered to take her to my show to get her away from one of Remy’s parties.” I replied smoothly. “I’m done here. Let’s grab a chair and we can catch up a bit before you head home.”
He nodded but continued anyway. “Who’s Remy?”
“Bad news. A kid at the high school who throws out of control parties.” That was different. Since when had I started thinking about high schoolers as kids?
“What? I did not get the wild vibe from her.” He adjusted in his seat and popped the lid on his craft beer.
“She isn’t wild. I got the impression she was only there with a friend.” A no-good friend from the wrong side of the tracks. Who knew how she would have ended the night with Jonah. He seemed like a decent guy on the surface, but that was all it was. A surface act, deflecting his true colors. Even if he was trying, his mom was so messed up in drugs and the local motorcycle gang that he’d eventually been removed from the home in seventh grade. His whole family were bad apples. Too bad he was already working for them then.
I’d cut off my left nut if he had somehow escaped their poisonous claws. Too many guys I knew ended up with that gang, either in prison or dead.
“Your turn.”
Thatcher curled a lip as if in pain, but then sighed in defeat. “I wasn’t expecting her for another hour or so. She caught me with Emily in the storage closet.” He glanced away to hide the blush I had already seen.
I didn’t know why it was such a big deal. He knew I played shows. Those fuckers turned into downright orgies sometimes. Not that I participated. All the time. I was more of a voyeur. It wasn’t like I always turned away a good one-night stand, but Rhett and Will were man whores in the worst possible way. If they weren’t spreading around STD’s like hot butter on toast, it would be a miracle. I had a strict no sharing policy with them.
“So what, she caught you giving it good to her?” I chuckled. Where the hell did my sunglasses go?
“Not exactly like that. It was more of her giving it good to me.” He coughed into his hand.
“No way!” I jerked forward, almost spilling my beer on my lap. “She caught Em giving you head? Ha! That’s classic. That might be worse. If she’d seen you banging her, it might have made her envious. But that, she sees you just as a taker.” I snickered, extremely smug.
“What? No.” He was clearly confused. He had a little sister he was tight with. How did he not know how women worked? Ridiculous.
“What are you confused about?”
“That wasn’t how it was at all. She saw a few seconds at most. She didn’t even leave the room, just spun around.” A smile cracked for the first time since we started this conversation.
“That doesn’t surprise me. She doesn’t seem like the type to run.” No, she wanted to stay in a situation as long as possible and court getting caught.
“Em didn’t care. She’d blow someone in class if she was feeling it. I thought Astrid would be awkward and weird about it, but she wasn’t. She didn’t mention it again and neither did I.” He shielded his eyes from the sun.
Where were his sunglasses?
“She was on a mission. I offered to help, and I thought she was going to accept it, but she changed her mind at the last minute.”
“She doesn’t need it. She’s really good.” I would know. I’d stared at the pictures she sent me every day for an unhealthy amount of time. Partly because they were awesome shots. Partly because of the depth required to take those kinds of pictures.
“I know, man. I saw her stuff last night. The pictures she took of you and the crowd…” He trailed off. “She should have no problem getting past the local high school round at least.”
Wait, there was something more to this than just a hobby?
“Explain.”
“A new scholarship was announced. Two winners from each high school, and then one winner total. That’s why I had to meet her to give her the camera. I didn’t really chat with Dan about it before then, because I didn’t care, but he said her teacher thinks if she practices and works on honing her talent, she’d have a decent chance.”
Good for her. She had people in her corner, willing to help her out. I was envious and a little sad. Would she want to hang out with me once she went to college? It was one thing to kind of be friends with Thatcher, but he sure didn’t come around just for shits and giggles, only when he needed work on his car done.
“Hold that thought. I need to see if I have any sunglasses in the house. My eyes are getting sunburned.” I hopped up and ran inside. Partly to look for sunglasses, but mostly to collect myself.
The door swung shut behind me, and my mom groaned from the couch. This was why I never let anyone inside. I never knew when she’d grace me with her presence or what state she’d be in. Hell, she’d tried to bring people over with her before.
Her brain cells had to be fried from too much crack by now, so she probably didn’t remember she didn’t live here. And never had. When I was two weeks out of graduation, she lost our trailer and Tacky’s took pity on me. Helped me set this place up as long as I could make the rent on my own.
“Beck…” She slurred, tossing an arm over her eyes as she anxiously rubbed her legs together. “I need…”
“No, you don’t need that.” I bypassed her and pulled out drawers in the kitchen. There were some old pairs in here somewhere.
“Beck,” she said, right before rolling over and vomiting on the ugly shag carpet.
My neck tensed as I watched her. Fuck. I hated this. I hated her sometimes too, before the guilt started to pour into me. Ignoring the putrid smell, I lifted her off the couch and carried her to the spare bedroom, then grabbing a rag to clean her up. A giant, orange cracked bucket sat in the corner just for her. I moved it into position before going back to clear up her mess.
Looking down at the bile, with hardly any food, I almost lost my stomach too. I must have fucked up bad in my last life to deserve this. It was that, or know this was a random, undeserved punishment.
I couldn’t think that way. That was just cruel.
“Astrid, bitch. You better wake up!”
I screamed and flew off the bed like zombie church elders were on my heels. What the freak kind of dream was that?
“Oof!” I grunted and fell back on the bed after hitting a mostly hard body. Screaming again I opened my eyes, prepared to take as many zombies with me as I could, but it was Ryan. A non-gray, non-sightless guy. Not a zombie at all.
“Are you awake now?” Ryan was not amused.
“Yes,” I rasped, my throat still dry from sleep.
My brain was fuzzy, requiring large amounts of concentration as I searched for what happened last night. I wasn’t normally so slow, but staring at Ryan while he stared at me was making this awkward.
Then it all came back. All of my horrendously embarrassing moments. It was probably a good time to talk to Mother Dearest about convent school. It would be a Godly life with little chance of embarrassing myself. She would approve. I think.
“Why do you suddenly look constipated?” Ryan laughed.
Flipping him double birds, I sat up. “I was reflecting on my bad decisions. I don’t think I want to stay here in this town anymore.”
“What the hell happened last night, Astrid?” he flipped out in zero to sixty, like a fancy Maserati.
It kind of gave me the warm and fuzzies to have him so concerned. Needlessly, but the sentiment was still there.
“Nothing bad like you’re thinking. Just embarrassing stuff. I got caught tak
ing pictures. Twice.” I cringed, and he answered it with a duck lip cringe. The face was hilarious and I laughed, glad he had leaned back. No one needed to know what Astrid breath smelled like in the morning.
“You didn’t?” He gasped.
“Yes,” I sighed.
I glanced at my clock, glad that it was only nine-thirty. There were still a couple hours before the parentals came home. Just enough time for me to straighten up, do a few chores, and head out before they arrived. I’ve been meaning to get a local library card anyway.
“Let me clean up. Then we can chat while I grab breakfast and do some stuff around the house.”
“Okay,” Ryan turned around and flopped backward onto the bed, bouncing me right off.
When I came back in, he was rummaging through the top drawer in my nightstand.
“What are you doing?” I fisted my hands on my hips. We were friends, and he was arguably becoming as close as Stace, but this was still an invasion of privacy.
“You’re the first girl friend I’ve ever had. I was curious. I wanted to see if you were hiding lascivious secrets in a diary, or a little rabbit thing for when you read smut books.” He didn’t look up as he continued to see what was in the next drawer.
“What the hell? Not all girls are alike, just like all guys don’t like vaginas. You’ll find neither of those things there. Not to mention my dad’s a pastor. That would get me landed in an all-girl school faster than I could say orgasm.” I huffed, strutting over to slam the drawers shut. “Remind me to go through your closet when I visit your room for the first time. There’s probably a half used jar of Vaseline and pictures of your mom’s best friend. Or neighborhood cat lady.”
“Gah! Don’t say things like that. You’re going to scare me right out of this friendship.” We both dissolved into giggles, making an adorable puppy pile on the bed.
“Let’s go down to the kitchen. You eat breakfast yet?” I popped him on the chest and started down the hall without him. Sun streamed through the windows, highlighting the immaculate kitchen my mother insisted on keeping. On the plus side, it made cleaning up after a meal for one incredibly easy.
He was quick to follow, perching on an island stool as I shuffled around the kitchen, heating up waffles.
“So, what happened?” He propped his chin in his palm.
Wanting to delay a little longer, I deflected. “You first. Mine will be longer. Probably.” I stared down at the bright turquoise waffle maker, twisting the spatula in my hand.
“Girl, guess who has a date Friday night?” He squealed and danced in his seat.
“That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you.” I beamed at him. And I really was. He deserved a bit of happiness and Pat seemed really good for him.
“Okay, your turn.” He sobered up so fast I nearly had whiplash.
“That’s it?! Like seven words? I need more than that.” To satisfy the appropriate level of information a friend needed to know about Saturday night shenanigans, and also to stall.
He quirked a perfectly shaped brow. What he didn’t do, was say anything. We entered into this epic, tense stare down, where I gave him a you’ll never get the truth look and he gave me an I’ll wait you out, honey look. I wasn’t willing to fold, he could get his happy ass out of my house if he kept it up. But apparently, my spine just wasn’t as strong as I wanted to think it was. Two minutes in and I completely sagged against the counter.
“Fine. Eat your waffles and I’ll tell you what happened.” We both dug in as I recounted the night before. His enthusiasm cracked me up, oohing and ahhing at every little thing. When I got to the part about Thatcher and Beck, his eyes rolled so far back in his head, I thought he was on his way down to kiss the speckled tile floor.
“You said you were caught twice.” He prompted.
“Yeah,” I drew out the word, buying as much time as I could. What happened with Rhys was personal and something he wouldn’t want spread around. It was bad enough I let my peculiar hobby get the best of me by invading his privacy. Even though Beck was there, I couldn’t share his secrets. So now, what did I tell Ryan?
“I might have also been caught taking a picture of Rhys. But both he and Jonah asked me to delete them.” I expected God to send a lightning bolt through the roof and smite me where I stood. But it didn’t happen. Instead, I just told lie number one.
“Weird. I didn’t see Rhys there at the party at all.” He muttered to his golden brown waffle.
“You were probably too wrapped up in Pat to notice.” I shrugged and shoved a bite of syrupy waffle into my mouth. If he thought it was odd I suddenly had chipmunk cheeks, he didn’t show it.
“Hmm. Yeah, probably.” He nudged his phone around to check the time. “What do you need to do before we can leave?”
“Just straighten up. I did laundry yesterday.” I glanced around the kitchen, noting the small pile of cups in the sink along with the toaster on the counter. A good wiping down and vacuuming would do it. Along with the dishes of course. Without the parentals here the house stayed much cleaner. Funny how that worked.
The dull grating of the garage door signaled the dreaded arrival of my parents.
Oh, fuck. My parents.
Shooting up off the stool, I made shooing motions for him to run out the back door. “You have to go! They can’t see you here.” They really couldn’t. They’d never leave me alone again and that wasn’t how I was trying to spend my last year here.
Ryan rolled his eyes like I was touched in the head as he stood up. “Astrid, my car is parked in the driveway. They know I’m here.”
They did. There was no way they wouldn’t have seen it. I was so fucked. “Sit. Let me grab my notebook. We’re going to be studying.” I was mostly talking to myself as I rushed to my backpack in the mudroom. It was a miracle I hadn’t taken it upstairs like I normally would during the week.
My sketchbook spread out over the counter with half done sketches scattered around me, providing the perfect illusion of a teenager hard at work. Mother Dearest was the first through the doorway and her gaze darted suspiciously between Ryan and me. It was a little unnerving being on this end of the stare, knowing Ryan should not be here.
“Astrid.” She greeted coolly. “Who’s this?”
My dad walked in behind her with their suitcase. Whenever they went on their weekend trips, they were efficient and combined their stuff. Less work for both as my dad liked to put it.
“This is Ryan. He’s in my art class.” I rushed out. Not suspicious at all. Yeah, right.
“Hi, Mrs. Scott. Mr. Scott. It’s nice to meet you.” Ryan squared his shoulders and offered his hand out to my mother first. His smile was huge and friendly. He was good at this meeting the parents stuff. I definitely needed to take lessons from him on how not to be awkward. My mother’s nose wrinkled but she took it. That had to be a good sign.
“Likewise. So what are you all doing this morning?” Her voice was extra nasally as she looked down her nose at my sketchbook. She wasn’t fond of my art even at the best of times.
“We have a project coming up and we were brainstorming ideas.” I went to grab my pencil to hold something in my hand, but there wasn’t one. Great, I grabbed the sketchbook but not the pencil. No way would she think we were actually working on school assignments if she noticed. I pulled the first loose paper I could get my grubby hands on and held it up.
“We are working on…” I glanced at the sheet and saw my attempt at sketching the mannequins from our body form day. The pose of the mannequins was completely innocent, but my stellar skills made it look like someone was getting a good spanking. “The body form. We’re supposed to study body language for our sketches.” Lie number two this morning. I would be racking them up quickly if I kept on this sinful path. Not ideal, but better than the dreary alternative of being locked in my bedroom.
Her beady eyes squinted at the page before backing up a step into Dad. He steadied her and followed her line of sight.
“Well now, that
’s a little different than I thought they’d teach you in school.” He cleared his throat.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Mr. Scott. It only looks like that because Astrid lacks the basic skills of drawing. I’ll be handling the actual project.” Ryan puffed out his chest like he was actually proud of this fake project we were working on.
My dad laughed as my mother just glared at the picture like it smacked her on the butt in real life.
“It’s true. I’m not any good at art.” I sighed.
“We’re going to put our stuff away. Say, I haven’t seen you at church. Where does your family go?” If there was one thing my dad excelled at, it was small talk. He always seemed jovial and easy to talk to. Such a contradiction to the man I knew.
I must have got my people skills from my mother. Unfortunately.
“We don’t go to church.” Ryan supplied easily. I didn’t believe he knew he signed the death slip of our friendship.
A frown line creased between his eyebrows. “Nowhere? You should come one Sunday with Astrid. She helps out with the Sunday School classes. You’d love it.” He nodded his head like it was a done deal. He probably thought he’d converted another believer by merely making the invitation.
Ryan flicked his gaze my way before focusing back on my parents. I couldn’t answer the question in his eyes because there wasn’t a good answer here. Not unless he wanted to start passing out off brand cookies and mouthwash sized cups of soda out for morning snack on Sundays. Too bad he was horrible at reading my dad’s nonverbal cues, because he went on to dig himself deeper into the bad for Astrid grave.
“We don’t believe in God. We’ve always been atheists.” Ryan’s cheeks tinged with color as Dad’s demeanor changed drastically. It went from jolly and warm to stern and cold. He was the male version of my mother in this extreme moment.
“That’s too bad, son. If you ever want to start attending and check it out for yourself, Astrid will bring you. Just say the word.” His words were saying something different than his eyes. Those were saying I had poor taste in friends and he was about to remedy it quickly.
Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1) Page 14
