Love and Lies

by Duffey, Jennifer

  “You’re right. I’m acting like a brat. I guess I should thank you for putting up with me. I’m sorry.”

  “How about we try this again?” He held his hand out for me to shake. “Eric Byrne. Nice to meet you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eric and I spent the next hour at the coffee shop getting to know each other. To my surprise, he really was an easy guy to talk to. Which made him all the more enticing. I was thankful he didn’t try to make any moves. After dealing with the jerk earlier, I wasn’t sure I could handle flirting from Eric.

  Over the next few weeks, we spent more time together, both alone and with Logan and Alec. After lunch on Wednesday, Alec cornered me between classes.

  “What's up with you and Eric?” he asked, stepping into my personal space when I tried to fade into the wall.

  “What do you mean, what's up with us? Nothing that I'm aware of.”

  Alec shook his head. “Not true. He was acting weird at lunch. Lately he and Logan have been snuggling up next to you, one on each side. Those two would fight over an inch to get next to you. Today, he kept scooting further away and fidgeting. I dunno how many times he checked his phone.”

  I shrugged and dropped my head against the wall. “Eric can be odd sometimes.”

  But Alec was right; I'd noticed it too. It wasn't just the phone checking or the new seating arrangement that had me in a daze. I didn't want to admit how much it hurt me to see him pull away. The feeling he left me with—I didn't want that to disappear. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted to go against my own resolve when it came to dating him. Not that I had the guts to say anything, but I hoped, secretly, that he'd figure it out on his own. Guess I was wrong.

  Alec stood in front of me, waiting for me to say something.

  “What? I don't know what's going on, okay? I'm going to try and talk to him this afternoon.”

  Maybe it was something I said or a look on my face, but Alec laughed and murmured, “I should have known.”

  “Should have known what?”

  “Oh nothing, nothing at all.” With that he backed away and went to his next class.

  During my last class I sent Eric a text.

  Want to get together?

  Yeah. Ur place twenty minutes.

  I tucked my phone into the pocket of my skirt and tried—unsuccessfully—to focus on the lecture. Relief washed over me as soon as the professor shut down the projector and turned on the lights. I dashed across to the campus to my apartment.

  My roommate, Annabelle, was gone—as usual. Once inside, I shrugged off my shoes and dropped my backpack by the door, then hurriedly checked my hair and clothes. Little pieces of grown-out bangs fell out of my half-pony and rested on my cheeks. I took a minute to appreciate the change my appearance had taken over the last few years.

  In New York, I never had the chance to wear my hair in any way other than perfectly styled. According to Mom, ponytails weren't appropriate for well-bred girls, not when they were expected to look their best at all times. Thank you Dad for being Mr. Big Shot New York Designer. Hard to believe the paparazzi paid attention to people other than LA movie stars, but it was true. Mom and Dad dodged them almost as much. Then again, being the designer for all the stars, it was hard to go unnoticed.

  Now, I did my hair how I wanted to, with no one around to scold me for not being polished. A smirk formed across my face as I took in my worn jeans with a hole in the knee and my fitted T-shirt. I could let go of my high fashion needs. At least let go of my clothes, not so much my shoe obsession. Those had to stay. Satisfied with how I looked, I settled on the couch and turned on the TV to wait for Eric.

  Half an hour later, he and I sat in a very awkward silence. Some days, the worries I had in the beginning haunted me. Other days, our friendship was as easy as if we’d known each other for years. Alec cautioned me about letting him get close so quickly. Said I was setting myself up when I let all my concerns go, simply because he’d called me out about being selfish. While Alec may have had a point, I tried not to put too much focus into the worry. But sitting with Eric like this, him tense and me confused, I began to question whether or not I should have paid closer attention to what Alec said.

  I nudged Eric in the ribs with my elbow, voices from the TV the only noise in the room. “Eric, what's going on?”

  He started with his hands in his lap, then ran them through his hair, and finally rubbed his eyes. “Well, there's something I wanted to talk to you about.” His fingers ran back and forth on the couch, the shade in the faux-suede changing with each pass. I watched him draw little circles over and over again. Eric took a deep breath. “What's the deal with your parents?”

  I sucked in air so quick I started choking. “Why are you asking about my parents?” Family was one topic I avoided with everyone. Logan didn’t know more than the bare minimum. Only Alec knew about my family, and that was because he saw them firsthand. I tried as hard as I could to not talk about them.

  “The few times I’ve mentioned them, you change the subject,” Eric continued. “I just wondered what the deal was.”

  “Nothing. I don’t like talking about them. You don’t talk about yours either.”

  “You're lying to me. As soon as I asked, you tensed up again. And I don’t talk about them because my family doesn’t matter to me. My mom disappeared and my dad should have gone with her.”

  That made me sit up and pay attention. He didn’t want his dad around. Interesting. Later I’d ask more. As in when I was ready to talk about my own messed-up parents, because I knew Eric wouldn’t say a word without me giving something in return.

  I shook my head hard enough I'd have a headache soon. “I'm not talking about them. If you wanna talk to me, then talk, but not about them.”

  “This is not the way I saw this going,” he mumbled.

  “Eric, can you please get to the point? I don't like this.” I waved my hand at the silent tension between us. “We're friends, talk to me.”

  “Carissa, will you go on a date with me?”

  “What does that have to do with my parents?”

  “I don't know. I just want to respect their wishes, and you never talk about them.” Eric wiped his palms on his jeans. I watched with awe as his biceps tightened underneath the sleeves of his shirt. My heart skipped a beat before he began again. “So will you or won't you?”

  “Will I what?”

  “Go on a date, like dinner and a movie, or something.”

  “Yeah.”

  It was either agree to a date or risk arguing about the lack of discussion about our parents. As soon as I said yes, I felt guilty for not giving Logan the same chance. Then again, being around Eric was different than being near Logan. Since the day Eric and I had met, there was a connection, a pull to him. Despite how nervous I became when he was around, I still wanted to be close to the guy. Logan would have to understand.

  “Yeah?” He looked down at me. “Really? You're not going to laugh?”

  “Am I really that much of a bitch that you thought I'd laugh at you?” I pushed into Eric's shoulder with mine.

  He jumped, but recovered quickly by tucking his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer until I laid my head on his chest. “Of course not, but you can be a little…unpredictable.” His chest rose and fell against my cheek.

  “It keeps you on your toes. If you want me, you have to figure out how to deal with me.” I chuckled.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Two days later, I stood in front of my floor-length mirror and admired the white eyelet camisole and long skirt that Alec had ordered from one of my favorite shops. The flowing skirt was burnt orange, like fall leaves, but made of cotton, so it was lightweight enough to handle the Louisiana heat. I straightened my hair and pinned the sides up to keep them out of my face. Goosebumps rose on my arms when I thought about going out with Eric.

  “You know, if you'd rather have our date in front of your mirror we can.” Eric's smoldering gaze sent a shiver down m
y back.

  I fisted my hands on my hips and turned to him. “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.”

  “What is your fascination with the mirror? I've never understood how you—or any girl—can spend so much time looking at themselves. I mean, don't get me wrong. You look...” He gave me an appraising look before continuing, “You look amazing. But I'd be willing to bet you've spent at least forty-five minutes standing there.”

  A huff rushed out from between my lips. “Thirty minutes, not forty-five.” I averted my gaze from his face. “It's an old habit.” I straightened my shirt and messed with my hair, settling flyaway strands. “By the way, how did you get in?”

  Eric flicked his hand over his shoulder. “Your roomie let me in. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yep.” I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and pulled him into the living room. On the way to the door I grabbed my purse off the key hook and waved to my roommate.

  It wasn’t until we were in the car and driving that Eric gave a hint as to where we were headed. “So...umm, I made reservations.”

  “Where?”

  “Have you had oysters before?”

  “No, and I don't have the desire to try them. My parents love them. When we had a party for new clients of my dad's, Mom made sure oysters began the meal. The sight of them makes me gag.”

  Eric took one hand off the steering wheel then wrapped his fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled. After a deep breath he regained his calm and put his hands back on the wheel—precisely at ten and two.

  “You're nervous. What's going on?”

  “I'm not nervous.”

  “Bullshit. You're fidgeting and haven't said more than a five-word sentence since we got in the car. What gives?”

  Eric sighed. “You.”

  “Sweet little 'ol me? Now why would I make you nervous?” My voice rose as I attempted a Southern Belle accent.

  “Forget it. So you really don't like oysters?”

  He was too wound up. The more I got to know him, the more I thought the only time he relaxed was while on stage dancing. Then again, I didn't know that for sure. He said we weren’t allowed to see him perform.

  Eric cleared his throat to pull my attention back to him.

  “Sorry, no. I don't like them. Well, I guess I can't say I don't like them. Like I said, I've never actually tried them.”

  “Well if you're with me, you're trying them.”

  “Eric...”

  “No arguments.”

  “And if I puke on your nice pants?”

  “Then I'll change.”

  I slumped in my seat. I supposed it wouldn't kill me to give them a shot. What was the saying? You never know unless you try.

  “Fine.”

  He smiled at my defeat.

  I held up my hand. “But you have to try one thing from the menu I pick. No questions asked.”

  While we drove toward the French Quarter, I took in the details of the buildings and people. All the color combinations and sharp edges brought out the artist in me. I admired the curves and details used in decorations to counterbalance the sharp edges of the homes. Like the buildings, the people of New Orleans were eclectic. Over the years I’d spent hours people watching. You could find all shapes, sizes, colors, and personalities.

  “Do we have a deal?” I asked as we walked into the restaurant.

  “A deal?” Eric tilted his head down and to the side.

  “Yes, a deal. I try an oyster, and you try one thing I pick. No questions.”

  “Ahh, that deal. Yeah, I'll do it.”

  “Good. Let's go eat. Didn't you say we had reservations? I wouldn't want to be late.” I laced my arm through Eric's and tugged him toward the door. If he didn't get out of his funk, I was going to be pissed off soon. Mad on your first date, never a good sign.

  “Reservations are at seven. I thought you might want to walk around for a little while.”

  “Eric.”

  He turned to face me with eyes full of uncertainty. I was clueless as to what put it there or how to fix things. “Why are you acting like we're strangers? I don't bite...too hard.”

  Finally, he laughed. Some of the tension drained from his muscles as he pulled me against his chest in a bear hug. “I might like being bitten; you never know until you try. I'm sorry. It's just that I want this to be perfect. I've done enough in my lifetime to screw up. This time I'd like to do something right.”

  Whoa...hello mood swing. Such deep thoughts for a first date. I almost laughed, but I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful or didn’t care.

  “Umm okay. Well, when you decide we're done with soul searching and seriousness, let me know.”

  Eric ran his fingers through his hair. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Become a bitch when people try to be genuinely nice to you.”

  “Why do you have to call me out every time?”

  Holy shit. What happened that my first date with Eric had gone from fun to worst date ever in half a second flat? Okay, maybe I could have been nicer. But he went on the defensive awfully quick. We both needed a minute to think.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted backward from ten. When I looked at him, he stood with his legs apart, hands on hips, and his jaw clenched to the point his muscles twitched.

  “I'm sorry.” His sentiment didn't match his stance, but we were going to have to start somewhere.

  “What's really going on? You just snapped at me for no reason. I could have been a little nicer, but seriously. Where did you send the relaxed, laid-back Eric I’ve gotten to know recently?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I don't know...your parents...I mean.”

  My parents? This again. What the hell? “You're not making any sense. Spit it out.”

  “Damn it. This is what I thought you'd want. A nice restaurant, a walk around the French Quarter, the type of date you deserve. Instead, you don’t like oysters, the conversation is nonexistent, and this walk is boring as hell.”

  “But that's not you, is that it? Do you really think I'd have agreed to a date if I expected you to turn you into someone different? Some who you thought I wanted.”

  “Now you're confusing me.”

  Of course I was. Boys. They never understood anything. I'd have to spell it out for him.

  “You are the guy I want to go out with, Eric. Not some prim and proper country club member. If I wanted that, there are plenty to choose from at school. Do I have any friends, other than Alec—who's a whole other story—like that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then why would you think I'd want to go on a date like that? Fun. That's all I want. To have fun.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let's go for that walk. Boring or not, I need some inspiration for some class assignments.”

  Might as well use the extra time to benefit me. I had an art portfolio due in a couple of weeks, and only half of my drawings were complete.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Whistling mindlessly an out of tune version of the Gilligan's Island theme song, I made my way through the herd of students. I cringed as soon as I realized what song I'd butchered. Away from home for a little over a year, and I still hummed or whistled the theme songs when I zoned out.

  Music filtered down the hall, drowning out my horrible rendition, and my grimace transformed into a wide smile. Alec and I had a standing date on Monday to meet Logan after band practice.

  When I overheard one of the guys ask about me, I stopped short of the sofa inside the rehearsal room. I threw a nervous glance over my shoulder, relieved to see Alec hadn't shown yet. His big mouth definitely would have blown my cover. I leaned in, my head tilted toward the door to hear what they were talking about.

  “Hey, man, have you talked to Carissa lately?” I recognized Monty’s, the lead bassist, voice. Chords rang through the room, signaling Logan's tuning.

 
“Yeah, why?” Logan answered.

  “Check this out, I just overheard that new guy, Eric, talking about her on the phone. He said something about getting money from them. Some kind of report. Like, where she'd been and what she was doing last week.”

  “And?” Logan replied.

  I turned my head and angled my body in an attempt to see Logan's reaction. He looked up from his guitar slowly, his expression bland, as though Monty had said something no more exciting than the fact that he liked peanut butter and banana sandwiches. I wasn't sure what to make of Logan's nonchalance. This was a big deal, and he hardly reacted. Who would Eric be talking to about me? Why would he be telling anyone what I’d been up to for the last week? The idea that Mom’s call from the first day had something to do with Eric’s arrival resurfaced. Dang it. I did not want there to be a correlation. Since our first date, we’d spent more time alone. Turned out the guy was a real charmer.

  “Nothing really. I just figured you'd want to know. Maybe say something to her about it.”

  “Yeah, you're right. It’s not really our business though, and you don’t know who he was talking to, do you?”

  Logan was right—no one knew who Eric was talking to. It could have been one of his friends. Maybe Monty heard wrong and Eric was talking about the time we’d spent together, not giving a rundown of my weekly activities. There was probably a lot I didn't know. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to believe Monty had heard wrong.

  “Nah,” Monty answered Logan. “I just thought it was odd that he would talk about everything she’s been doing. I mean, who keeps tabs on a person that like? The guy knew every detail.”

  That sent chills down my back. I didn’t think Eric was the possessive sort, but then again we hadn’t been together that long. Monty had a point, why would someone pay such close attention without a reason? I didn’t know what to do—focus on figuring things out, or give Eric the benefit of the doubt. For now, I’d go with trust.

  “I don’t know, man,” Logan replied. “Not really something for us to worry about though. Carissa’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. Let's warm up.” Logan propped his guitar on a stool and took hold of the mic.