The Truth of a Liar

by Cassie Graham

  I take a left at the top of the stairs, taking note of the master bedroom, and a bathroom. I don’t explore the master, but I walk in to the bathroom and it’s just like the rest of the house. With white cabinets, a framed mirror, and down-home decorations, it all somehow works.

  Liam passes me in the hallway and I stop him. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, mate.” He smiles. “Wait till you see our room.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I give him an odd look.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” I point to the open door next to me. My latest almost-slip up with Rowan in the airplane has me wanting to wash the regret away.

  “Sounds good. It’s about seven. Cindy mentioned dinner would be in thirty. Make sure to be down stairs before then.”

  “Got it, Boss.” I salute and walk away.

  I stop in my tracks right before I pass another room that has to be Rowan’s. The walls are a light yellow color. The bed in the center is white and the mesh around the outside looks like it’s fit for a princess.

  I sigh and shake my head and force myself to keep walking. The last thing I need to do is get caught snooping around there. Even though that’s all I really want to do.

  When I get to the area at the end of the hall, I snort. No wonder Liam was excited for me to see this. All four of us guys are at least six feet tall. It’s going to be comedic to watch us somehow fit in bunk beds clearly made for children.

  Quickly grabbing my shower bag and some fresh clothes, I stride to the bathroom and close the door, setting my stuff on the sink. Once my clothing is stacked on the floor, I dip my toe into the tub, inspecting the temperature. And before I know what’s happening, the door that I stupidly forgot to lock, opens and Rowan enters.

  Her nose flares the moment her eyes land on me. I watch as her eyes trail down my body and grow intoxicated. With clumsy hands, I pull the shower curtain to cover my Longfellow.

  “Oh, shit,” Rowan says, catching herself, slapping her hand hard over her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t—oh, God. I’m so, so sorry.” She backs out of the bathroom, visibly flustered and embarrassed, slamming the door with force.

  I can’t fight the smile that tugs on my lips.

  She saw me naked, and I’m not sure I give a damn.

  I WISH I COULD UN-SEE his damn perfect ass and tight legs. I wish I hadn’t seen that he’s tan everywhere. Does he tan nude?! I wish I hadn’t laid my eyes on his muscular back. And I most certainly wish my eyes didn’t notice his glorious cock.

  You know the saying, ‘get your foot out of your mouth?’ Yeah, well, I just put my foot so far in my eye, yes, my damn eye, I swear my toes are swirling around in my brain. Yes, I know this particular saying doesn’t make sense.

  Fuck my life. It’s torture.

  Rushing to my room, I slam the door and throw my body onto my bed. My pillows muffle my groan. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh. My. God. If my mind and my vagina weren’t already super conflicted about what to do with Lark, they’re banging their heads against a wall, pleading for me to just give in.

  I can never un-see that. I don’t even know if I want to.

  I shake my embarrassment and get off the bed to sit in front of the vanity. The reflection in the mirror is almost unrecognizable. My cheeks are flushed and pink. My bottom lip is slightly red because I bit it the moment my eyes landed on Lark’s amazing body. My eyes are wide but the mascara under them makes me look tired. I quickly rub my fingers under my lower lids to wipe it away. I reach for my duffle bag and pull out a fresh set of clean clothes. Black yoga pants, a tank top and a sports bra.

  I quickly make my way out of my room and run across the hall to my parents’ room. There is no way in hell I’m using the bathroom after Lark. As I pass the stairwell, I can hear Liam and Chris discussing the night shift, but I don’t stay to see who is up to bat tonight. It doesn’t matter much. I’m going to hole myself up in my room and return…never. How I’m actually going to be able to look Lark in the eye after this?

  In the quiet of my parent’s bathroom, I let the small space fill up with dense steam and allow my mind to wander, thinking about how it would be if I actually grew the balls to allow myself to seduce Lark.

  Sleep is impossible. It evades and dodges my grasp. My eyelids aren’t heavy, and my body isn’t weightless and it’s driving me mad. The still of the Alabama night roars deafeningly in my ears. I forgot what it was like to sleep in the country. The quiet tranquility is not something I’m used to anymore. In normal circumstances, it would be welcome, but I miss the rowdy noise of New York City. I miss the car horns and the non-stop police sirens. I didn’t realize until now that those noises lulled me to sleep every night. I sought solace in it.

  A cricket chirps just outside and I roll to my side to face the window, pulling the soft, pink blanket up to my chin.

  Dinner was uneventful. Lark went back to his blatant ignoring of me and I pretended not to notice. Both Mom and Dad fell in love with all of the guys. By the time dessert was served, they were up in arms about their manners and loyalty to keeping me safe. Chris, Evan, and Liam can be charmers when they want to be. Even Lark chimed in many times, giving my mom a wink and a smile. I might have melted a little watching him bewitch her.

  I huff, unable to shut off my mind, and check the time on my cell phone. Just past midnight. Damn!

  I crawl out of bed and grab a coat out of my closet. I stuff my arms in the beige knitted jacket and button it. Sliding on slippers, I quietly open my door and peek my head out. The hallway is clear, so I walk slowly, tightening the hair tie in my ponytail. A couple of the guys are in the bunk beds, but I can’t see which ones are passed out, so I make my way down the stairs to the back door.

  “Where do you think you’re going, little lady?” Liam asks in a hushed whisper and I practically jump out of my skin. He’s sitting at the table in the dark kitchen and all I can see is his silhouette.

  “Jesus, Liam.” I grab at my heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head, getting up from the chair to turn on the light. A soft glow lightens the big kitchen. “Sorry. What’re you doing awake?”

  I lean against the wall and cross my arms. “Can’t sleep. It’s too quiet here.”

  He nods, opening the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. “It is eerily silent. Probably why Lark can’t sleep, either.”

  My body perks up and I stand straight, my eyes looking for him.

  “He’s outside if you want to talk to him.” Liam’s expression looks sad but he gives me a smile.

  I point. “Out back?”

  Liam bites his lip and sits back down at the table. “Aye.”

  I knit my hands together. “Thank you, Liam.” I turn toward the door but he stops me.

  “Be careful. Something’s going on with him tonight.”

  I nod, unsure what he means. Should I be scared of him? No. I don’t think he could every truly scare me. I’m sure he could do some damage, but his gentleness with me leads me to believe he’d do anything to keep me safe.

  The porch light outside illuminates the yard and I quietly close the door behind me. I look around but don’t see Lark, so I make my way to the hammock.

  I forget how, in the dead of night, the stars shine so bright here. I can see clear as day. It’s almost too bright with the porch light.

  The wind brings a chill and I stuff my hands in the pockets of my coat. Sitting in the tattered hammock, I lean my head back, slip off my slippers, and watch the stars twinkle through the breaks in the leaves of the tree. I remember when Dad planted the two trees that anchor the hammock. It’s pretty incredible to think that the trees have been here, tried and true, for almost twenty-five years. I have so many memories in this backyard. Not one bad. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, savoring the tranquil environment.

  My feet rock back and forth on the grass covered ground and I squish the thin blades between my feet.

  “Rowan,” Lark says, walking up to me, his hands st
uffed in his grey pajama pants pockets. He’s got black-rimmed glasses on and a book in his hand. “What are you doing out here?” His eyes look pained and tired and I really want to grab his body and hug him. I want to squeeze all of his burdens away.

  I sniffle, the breeze making my nose run a bit. “Can’t sleep. I needed some fresh air.”

  Lark takes a deep breath and leans his back and head against the tree to my right. He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes tight, almost to the point of pain. Dragging his body down the long trunk, he sits down on the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He smiles a sadistic smirk and I can practically feel the tension radiating off of him. “I know who you are,” he says. And if I hadn’t been watching his mouth, I wouldn’t have heard it. It was a silent statement. Maybe he was hoping I didn’t hear it.

  My eyes grow wide and I gulp. Lark watches the emotions on my face and slides his glasses back on.

  “What do you mean?” I ask slowly.

  He scrapes his hands through his hair and pulls at the ends. I’ve noticed he does that when he’s upset. “Rowan.” He sighs, defeated. “I know what I did to you.”

  I shake my head and get to my feet, ready to explain that I forgave him a long time ago but he stops me, putting his hand up. “Don’t. God. Don’t look at me like that. How can you even be around me? After what I did to you?” He shakes his head in a jerky motion, making his glasses slide down his nose. His tone suggests he’s disgusted with himself, and it breaks my heart to see him this way. He looks battered and beaten. Definitely not the man who always seems to have his shit together. His guilt rips him apart and I want to find the pieces to put him back together.

  I stop what I’m doing. I don’t move any closer in fear of scaring him away, but I sit down in front of him and look him in the eye. I know he’s beating himself up over what went down between us all of those years ago in high school. “Lark,” I start, “don’t do that. I’m not that girl anymore.”

  “I know.” He allows himself to smile and it’s genuine. He pushes his glasses up, again. “Rowan, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

  I close my eyes and let myself absorb his apology and his sweet use of endearment. “You’re not the same guy, either,” I say, moving closer to him, my knees touching his. “You’ve changed.” He scoffs. “Lark.” I reach out, rising on my knees and touch his cheek with my hand. “It’s okay.”

  He grabs my hand with his and kisses the inside of my palm. And just like that, we are in our own world, again. It’s electric and laced with passion. But now, on top of that, it’s sprinkled with regret. And I hate it. I have to stop myself from crawling into his lap. I want to beg him to forgive himself, to remind him of all the wonderful things he’s brought to my life. But I know it won’t do any good.

  “How? How is it okay that I ruined something you worked so hard to build?” His voice breaks and I think he’s close to crying. “You should hate me for wrecking your set. Jesus, Rowan, you couldn’t perform your senior performance because I trashed everything.”

  His words sting and I retreat. That particular performance ruined my one shot at attending my dream school. I don’t let myself think about that time often. But now that he finally knows who I am, we can lay everything out on the table.

  “You’re right. What you did was shitty.” He flinches. “And I was angry for a long time. I blamed you for a lot of my mishaps. But,” I stop and stroke his cheek looking deep into his blazing blue eyes, “I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t done what you did.”

  “Seems to be a pattern,” he mutters under his breath, but I hear it. I wonder what else he did. “I screwed with your future because you rejected me, Rowan,” he says, his words laced with venom.

  That stops me in my tracks. “I’m sorry—what? What in the world are you talking about?” I rejected him? As far as I knew, the star football player wanted nothing to do with me.

  Lark keeps my hand in his and stands, pulling me up with him. He leads me back to the hammock and I sit down. He doesn’t touch me like I want him to and I keep my hands in my lap.

  He swallows and looks out toward the open field in front of us. “You really have no idea?” he asks and I shake my head. “I saw you sing our junior year. You sang the National Anthem at one of my football games. You were the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen.” I look down and blush. My teenage-self would have died and gone to heaven if she knew Lark Hawthorne liked her. “Your voice and your talent.” He stops. “I was a bad guy, Rowan. Really bad. The things I did––” He pauses and shakes his head. “But you, your voice, it changed something in me and I was too scared to do anything about it. I don’t know how I didn’t recognize you before. Your voice was a dead giveaway.” He laughs and looks down. “I thought I was being smooth; I gave your friend, Amanda, a note.”

  “Amanda,” I say. “Amanda who?” The only Amanda I knew was Amanda Welsh and she hated me.

  Oh…

  “Lark, I never got that note.”

  His head whips to look at me “You didn’t? You didn’t get the letter?” He’s hurt.

  My mouth thins. “Amanda Welsh?” I ask and he nods. “She and I didn’t really see eye to eye.”

  “What?” he says defensively.

  “Yeah.” I laugh, placing my hand on this thigh, reassuring him that whatever he thought transpired between us never actually happened. “She and I were close until our sophomore year. She lost weight, got popular and decided to make my life hell just to spite me.”

  “Christ,” Lark says.

  I nod.

  “Listen, what I did, you didn’t deserve it. Even if you didn’t like me, it was wrong. You have to know how sorry I am.”

  I turn my body toward him, the water already under the bridge. “I know you are and thank you.”

  He skims his hand down my arm and laces our fingers together. “I thought you were a distant memory.” He traces circles on my hand. “Jesus, you’re so damn beautiful. I thought you were gorgeous at eighteen.” He cups my face like he’s seeing me for the very first time. And I guess in a way he is. He takes a long look at my eyes, learning them. His eyes move around, taking inventory of my every feature.

  “What is it?” I ask. The longer he studies me, the more anxious his expression becomes.

  “It’s just—it’s so odd. I thought I knew you.” He hides his face in shame. “At least, what you allowed everyone to see in high school.”

  Which wasn’t a lot. Calling myself an introvert would be pushing it. I was open and honest on stage. But get me off and into the real world and I was a mess. My self-confidence was in the drain and it showed. At least—I thought it did.

  “You were a little withdrawn, but mysterious.”

  See? It did show.

  “I was a mess.” I laugh. I wasn’t the most popular girl in school. Hell, I wasn’t even in the vicinity of popular. I had one friend. One. I mean, sure, all of us drama/choir kids knew each other, but I didn’t trust any of them with my secrets. That title went to May. But I lost her my sophomore year. Apparently tenth grade was a bad one for me. Losing both Amanda and May in the same year was probably why I immersed myself so far into performing. I had loved it before, but I perfected it when my life went in the crapper.

  “You were beautiful,” Lark retorts, tucking the loose tendrils of hair behind my ear. “You are beautiful.”

  I can feel my eyes smile and my heart flutter. My reflection stares back at me in his big sapphire irises and I like what I see. I flush. “Lark, I’m going to be completely honest. You were totally untouchable then.” I laugh. “Now, too, I guess.”

  He shakes his head, his mouth thinning. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I take a deep breath and lean back, the aged rope of the hammock cutting through my clothes.

  Everyone leaves. That’s something I’ve learned in my semi-easy life. It doesn’t matter how c
lose you are or how strong of a connection you have, people always leave. They either do awful things and I’m forced to shove them out or they find a way to die and leave me in the dust.

  But, I nod, unable to form any articulate words. The ones I have are insufficient and couldn’t possibly describe how I truly feel. Now that Lark is in the picture and he knows who I am, it changes things. Big time.

  He was the prick-wad who tore down my set before my senior performance. I was able to categorize him and stow his memory away. Sure, he’d been gorgeous then. He’d played sports and had the hair of a God, still does, actually, but he was just an asshole who I could swat away and forget.

  He’s not the same person, anymore. He’s changed. I like him. I actually like him. A lot. I like the way he makes me feel. I like the way he looks at me as if I’m the first person to bring light into his eyes. I like the way his touch sends my body into total bliss. I like the way he wants to keep me safe and not just because it’s his job. I like that we have a history, one that’s tarnished and a little rusted, but I like that we’re able to move past it. I like that even though I know him, I don’t really know who he is. He’s a puzzle and I want to search for the pieces.

  “So, how did you get here?” I ask. I want to know it all. I want to know about the years we’ve been apart. How he became the man sitting next to me.

  “Well, sweetheart, there’s this amazing contraption I like to call a car. It drove us here from the airport.” His joking manner makes me giggle and I body bump him causing him to laugh a good hearty chuckle. He tips his head back and snakes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. He wavers, taking a deep, long breath. “It’s a long string of bad decisions that eventually led to a good one.”