Liar Liar

by L A Cotton

  Liar Liar

  l. a. cotton

  Contents

  Also by l. a. cotton

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Truth or Dare (Liar Liar #2)

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Published by Delesty Books

  First eBook Edition

  Copyright © L A Cotton 2016

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  If you are reading a copy of this book that has not been purchased from a licensed retailer, please destroy it. Thank you for your support.

  Edited by Jenny Sims of Editing4Indies

  Cover Designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  Photo by MK Photography

  Model: Erika Ruppelius

  Fate’s Love Series

  Fate’s Love

  Love’s Spark

  Love Collides

  Chastity Falls Series

  Loyalty and Lies

  Salvation and Secrets

  Tribulation and Truths

  Redemption and Regrets

  Liar Liar Series

  Liar Liar

  Austin Brothers Series

  The First Time is the Hardest

  The Maverick Defense Series

  Deliverance

  Standalones

  Lucky Penny

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  L A’s newsletter HERE

  To everyone out there that ever felt like they didn’t fit the mould.

  There’s a place out there for all of us.

  You just have to find your people!

  “Becca, are you going to stand out there all day or come in and help us unpack?” Mom called from the doorway as she watched me, her eyes clouded with a mixture of trepidation and sorrow.

  “Coming. I’m coming.”

  My eyes swept over the gray stucco house in front of me once more, sadness constricting my chest. Just turned eighteen, I had a life full of memories in another house—a much bigger and prettier house—and even though it was bittersweet and my throat burned with tears, staring at the unfamiliar building, I felt a kernel of hope at what it represented.

  No more secrets …

  No more hiding …

  No more lies.

  Born and raised in Montecito, CA, I’d lived in one place my whole life. The kitchen where Mom taught me to bake cookies when I was just five. The doorjamb where Dad scratched a notch every year on my birthday. The porch that witnessed my first kiss while my parents pretended not to watch from the living room window. All wrapped up in that house. But it was more than a house.

  It was my home.

  Filled with love and comfort and happy times, it held every memory of every significant moment of my life. Drawing in a long breath, I rolled my shoulders back and forced a smile. Climbing the steps to the door, Mom met me halfway, wrapping me in her arms. “Let’s get things straightened out and then I’ll make us something to eat. It’s been a long day.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Five hours in the balmy California heat stuck in Dad’s truck on the highway wasn’t my idea of fun. I shrugged out of her grip and met her eyes, aged with the events of the last few months. “Sure, Mom.”

  A sad smile tugged at her lips. “It’s going to be okay, Becca. New town, new friends, a fresh start.”

  My lips pulled into a flat line, and I nodded, hardly able to get the word out over the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”

  “Come on.” Mom took my hand in hers and guided me into the house.

  My new home.

  My fresh start.

  My escape.

  “So I called ahead, and Principal Garraway knows to expect you.” Mom clicked her belt into place, and I groaned, rolling my head back against the leather. “Seriously, Mom, I got this. It’s just school.” A new school, but whatever. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been to school before.

  “I wanted to make things as easy as possible, Becca. You can’t blame me for that.”

  Guilt twisted around my heart. Of course, she was only trying to help. It was all she and Dad had done since everything happened.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick with regret.

  “Hey.” Mom’s hand squeezed my hand across the stick. “None of that. Your father and I would do it all again, in a heartbeat, so no more pity parties, okay? This is your senior year, baby. You get a shot at doing it right. New town, new friends, a fresh—”

  “Start,” I finished. It had become Mom’s mantra ever since Dad announced we were leaving and moving three-hundred miles upstate to Credence, a small town between Oakland and Hayward. Turning my head to the side, I watched the unfamiliar landscape rush past.

  “It’s new for all of us, but I’m excited. Your father’s looking forward to getting started, and I can’t wait to christen the kitchen. Did you see the oven? It’s a baker’s dream come true.”

  “That’s great, Mom.”

  “You know, Becca, change is good for the soul. And while I expect Credence High is going to be different from Montecito Prep, it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m sure it will all be fine.” Except I’ll know no one and be the new girl. I didn’t know what was better—starting a school where no one knew me, or returning to my old high school where everyone knew me too well.

  “Are you sure I look okay?” I asked for the tenth time. I’d never attended public school before, and while Mom had reassured me that my outfit was ‘perfectly fine,’ I didn’t feel fine. Not in the least.

  “You look perfect—lovely, in fact—although I still don’t know why you had to throw out so much. There was nothing wrong with—”

  “Mom, you know why.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I know; I’m sorry. Oh look, there it is.” Mom pointed at a brick building in the distance. Kids streamed into the open gates, and the knot in my stomach tightened. It was nothing like my old school. Not a single convertible or palm tree in sight, not that I’d expected it. But it was more than that. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her to turn around and go back so I could change into something else. Sensing my nerves, Mom reached for my hand again. “Becca, it’s going to be fine.”

  Fine. She was right—nothing could be worse than the last four months of my life. I immediately shut down my thoughts. Now was not the time to remember, to let in the memories that haunted me in my sleep. Just breathe. I clamped my eyes tight and inhaled deep, long breaths just like my therapist had shown
me. If I didn’t give my memories power, they couldn’t control me.

  He couldn’t control me.

  “Okay, this is it.” Mom beamed over at me. “You’ll do great. Mac told your father Credence High is a good school.”

  Mac, one of Dad’s oldest friends, was the guy who had made our move to Credence possible. If Mac said it was true, well, then it must be, and the thought eased some of the turmoil cutting through me.

  Once upon a time, I would have strolled straight into Credence High School, sought out the most popular girls, and introduced myself. But that wasn’t who I was anymore. The old Becca Torrence was gone. Lost to a night that not only changed my life forever, it changed me.

  Intrinsically and inherently altered me.

  A part of me died that night, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get it back.

  “Becca.” Mom’s voice snapped me into the car. “It’s time.”

  I unbelted and grabbed my bag as my other hand hovered over the door handle. “Okay, then. See you later.”

  “Good luck, baby,” she called as I climbed out and surveyed my surroundings with a heavy sigh.

  This was it. All I had to do was walk in there, smile, and be myself. Only, I had no idea who I was anymore.

  “I think that’s everything, Miss Torrence. I’m sure you’ll find Credence a welcoming school. We serve a diverse community, which I feel provides an enriching environment for our students.” Principal Garraway cleared her throat. Something flashed over her face, but it was gone as quickly as I’d caught it, and she glanced down at the stack of papers in her hand. “Right, well, Ms. Juliard will escort you to your first class, which is math with Mr. Phillips. He’ll see to it that you settle in, I’m sure.”

  She thrust the papers at me, and I forced another smile. I was doing that a lot lately. “Thanks.”

  “If you need anything, you can come to me or our guidance counselor. We’ll be more than happy to assist you. Do you have any questions?”

  When can I get the hell out of here?

  “No.” I held my smile. Forcing my lips up even farther, I hoped she didn’t detect my unease.

  “Well, then.” She rose from her seat. “Welcome to Credence High School.”

  “Thanks.” I left the room without a backward glance.

  It wasn’t Principal Garraway; she’d been nothing but warm and welcoming. It was me—and the paranoia that had lived inside me since that night. The whole point of getting out of Montecito was to avoid people from ever finding out the truth. No one except Mac knew us here, and even he thought we’d relocated for a fresh start after my (fake) illness. Dad had wanted to go the whole hog and buy us new identities, but I didn’t want to become Marissa or Jessica or Amy. I’d already lost too much of myself to lose my name as well.

  “This way, Becca.” Ms. Juliard beckoned me over to her. “Math is situated in the east wing. It’s an excellent class, and some of our brightest students are in with Mr. Phillips. You’ll be in good company.”

  My ears perked up at that snippet of information. I’d missed school. It had been almost four months to the day since I last attended Montecito Prep. Four months since I sat in classes with my friends, laughing and gossiping about boys. I missed it—school, studying, even homework—and a part of me itched to get back to it. To get back to some kind of normal.

  “Right, this is math. Good luck, dear.” Ms. Juliard wasted no time as she pushed the door open and stepped to the side to let me past.

  “Umm, thanks,” I murmured, slipping into the room.

  Greeted with a whoosh of heads snapping up in my direction, I avoided looking anywhere but at Mr. Phillips, a tall, wiry man standing at the front of the class smiling at me. “Ahhh, and you must be our new transfer, Miss Torrence.”

  “Becca,” I said.

  He nodded. “Find a seat, and we’ll get you caught up.”

  Finding an empty seat meant looking for one, which meant making eye contact with my new classmates. It was inevitable, but it didn’t stop me from taking another breath before forcing myself to look up. A faceless sea stared back at me. A couple of girls snarled, narrowing their eyes, while some of the guys raked their eyes down my body. My stomach roiled, and I lurched slightly. It was enough to propel me forward. One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right. I shut out the curious stares and the low rumble of whispers, reminding myself this was completely normal. Roles reversed, I would have been the same, seated behind one of the desks watching a new kid turn up in class.

  Cautious …

  Judging …

  Wary.

  Third row back, on the end, I found an empty seat and hurried to it.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Phillips announced. “Let’s get back to it. Bonnie, I believe you were just about to tell us the answer to question three?”

  The class resumed as I sank into the chair, keeping my eyes ahead.

  “Here,” a deep voice to my left said, and I turned a fraction. A guy’s face appeared in my peripheral vision. He handed over his textbook open to the page the class was working from.

  “Thanks,” I offered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly very aware of him.

  He nodded, not sparing me a second glance or a reply. Fine by me. I needed to get used to this again—being around people, socializing, holding a simple conversation. Four months was a long time to be checked out from reality. So when the bell rang almost an hour later and chairs shuffled, and everyone started filing out of the room, I looked around, hoping someone would offer to help me find my next class.

  But everyone was gone.

  The rest of the day didn’t go much better. Apparently, being the new girl meant nothing to the kids of Credence High. It was business as usual, leaving me feeling like a social leper. If Mom was here, I knew she’d have something to say on the matter because it wasn’t like I’d actually tried to talk to anyone or ask for help. I ended up late for second and third period after getting the room numbers mixed up on the crappy copy of the map Principal Garraway had given me. But no one tried to help the red-faced girl walking circles in the hallway. Not. One. Single. Person. Fortunately, it was hard to miss the cafeteria with its vast floor-to-ceiling windows, but I didn’t hang around after collecting my lunch. Situating myself in a quiet spot outside on the grass under a huge tree, I ate in solitude. It gave me the perfect vantage point to watch my new classmates without being obvious. Not that anyone had given me the time of day so far. Well, apart from the guy in math. But even he had rushed out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

  Biting a chunk off my apple, I watched the kids around me. When Principal Garraway had said Credence High was diverse, she wasn’t wrong. It was worlds apart from the rich and privileged crowd back in Montecito Prep, not to mention the fact we had to wear a uniform there. Here, kids wore their own styles, and I realized my new wardrobe of mainly t-shirts and jeans wasn’t going to cut it in a place like this.

  My eyes landed on a group of girls sitting at a table in the back of the cafeteria. Two of them sat on the tabletop with their feet up on the chairs in front of them, wearing smiles on their faces as they laughed and joked with their friends. A pang of something I didn’t want to acknowledge shot through me. These girls were at the top of Credence’s social ladder. Their friends hung on every word, kids at other tables watched them over their lunch trays with envy sparkling in their eyes, and guys ogled them hungrily. They might have lacked the designer purses and manicured nails of my girlfriends back home, but I knew that in Credence High, they were the girls at the top of the ladder—popular, beautiful … desired, and a hollowness filled me as I stared at a version of me before everything changed. I’d been that girl, and now, I was … no one. Realization hit me like a wrecking ball, sucking the air from my lungs. I hadn’t considered how hard it would be to acknowledge everything I’d lost when I finally returned to school—everything he’d taken from me.

  From my family.

  Mom and Dad had given u
p so much. Their privileged lives in Montecito with the big house and pool and membership to Montecito Country Club, not to mention twenty years of service with the police department. All for me. To protect me. To give me a real shot at finding myself again. Before everything, I’d been a social butterfly. Everyone knew me at school. Guys wanted to date me, and girls wanted to be my friend. Now, I’d barely said two words all day and was eating lunch by myself.

  So much for a fresh start.

  “FIGHT,” someone yelled, and a crowd of people rushed past me. Tension rippled through the air, and someone slammed into me, knocking me into the lockers.

  “Watch it, bitch,” the girl hissed over her shoulder, and I stood there wide-eyed unable to find a reply, let alone an apology. She glared at me for another second and then re-joined the stream of people all wanting to watch two guys beat on each other.

  I pressed back against the locker bank, just able to make out one guy driving his fist toward another before the growing circle swallowed them completely. Giving myself a couple of seconds to catch my breath, I rubbed my shoulder where the girl had crashed into me.

  “It'll get easier,” a voice said, and my head craned up to find Math guy watching me intently. That was all I could call him since he still hadn't formally introduced himself, even though we had a handful of classes together.

  “Is it always like this?” I mumbled, still in shock. There’d been the odd fight at my old school, but the teachers were always quick to intervene. Most of me wanted to believe his words, but a small part of me wondered if I’d ever fit in here. He seemed immune to the fight happening at the end of the hallway.

  Disappearing behind his locker door, he switched out textbooks. When he closed the door, I looked at him—really looked at him. His eyes were a stormy gray color with lighter flecks interspersed. He was tall—at least a head taller than my five-foot-six—with dark hair that was mussed in that sexy just-got-out-of-bed way. As if he could read my mind, his lips tugged up in an amused smirk. “You just need to keep your head down and find your people,” he said as if he’d just given me the answers to the universe.