Before I ascend to the top of the boat, a whoosh of thoughts whirl through me. What if Amy was wrong about Lance being gay? It’s not like I have the best gaydar, myself. I’ve met straight guys who do modern dance. Maybe he’s just a nice guy.
I try to get a hold of my wandering thoughts, but they just keep coming.
Am I the guy Lacy is using for sex behind her boyfriend’s back?
No. Amy said she saw Lance making out with his boyfriend.
I grip my forehead as I try to steady myself.
Just then, Amy walks up the stairs.
“Hey Carter! Where have you been? We’ve been missing you. Great party!”
“Hey Amy,” I grumble. “I’ve been . . . getting a drink.”
“Oh. Where is it?” she asks, looking down at my empty hands.
“Silly me. Looks like I’ve finished it. I’d better go back down to the bar and get another one.”
“Better hurry!” Amy says. “We’re almost out of alcohol.”
I chuckle. “That’s impossible. I ordered twice what I thought we’d need.”
Amy shrugs. “Never underestimate a crew of drunk twenty-somethings, I guess. Mind if I slip by you?”
“Sure.”
I turn my body sideways so Amy can get by on the narrow staircase.
I head back downstairs, and see Chandler at the bar.
“Hey!” he yells over the music. Where have you been?”
I shrug. “Nowhere.”
Chandler squints. I signal to the bartender and order a vodka soda.
“I’m gonna call bullshit on that one. You have post-sex face written all over you.”
The bartender slides me a drink. “Fuck off. No idea what you’re talking about,” I counter.
Chandler wraps his lanky arm around my shoulder. “Okay buddy,” he winks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about either.”
He laughs heartily and takes a sip of his drink. “Honestly man, you don’t have to bullshit me. I used to be in your shoes before I was with Amy. I know how it goes at these sorts of events. Women basically throw their panties at you. I get it. All I’m saying is, no sense in lying to me about it. You can’t be honest with your teammate about getting laid? Come on now.”
And I have no problem being straightforward about who I am and how I behave. But for some reason, in this case, I can’t quite bring myself to talk about Lacy. What we have is just between the two of us.
Some foreign feeling inside me bubbles up.
I take a swig of my drink. “No idea what you’re talking about. Let’s head upstairs and get some fresh air. It’s getting a little stuffy in here.”
“Don’t want to talk about it, eh? Hey, I get that too.” He takes his arm off me. “Let’s head upstairs then. Amy’s up there.”
Chandler’s toothy grin is comforting. I shake my head a little and let out a sigh.
It’s almost a little disgusting to me how much Chandler and Amy are in love. Both always looking for each other at parties like these. I try to think of any girl I’ve ever felt remotely like that about, and draw a total blank.
“Bro.” Chandler punches me in the shoulder, not too hard. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. You and Amy are cute, is all. And yeah, I just saw her as I came down here. She was looking for you.”
“Upstairs it is then.”
16
Lacy
My hair blows in the wind as I stand on the deck looking out over Lake Michigan.
The moon is full, illuminating the numerous skyscrapers up and down the shoreline in the distance. It’s a beautiful sight.
I wish I could enjoy it. Instead, all I can think about is Carter.
I fight not to think of him, because I refuse to give my energy over to assholes. But my mind is like a Chinese finger trap. The more I fight to clear him from my mind, the more he’s all I can think about.
His ability to dominate me like no one else has.
The feel of his rock hard body pressing into me.
The flecks of darker brown in his eyes as I clenched around him.
My inability to control myself as he made me come multiple times.
Last but not least, Carter’s distance after we finished.
Not like he’s ever been one to be emotionally vulnerable. I, of all people know that. But telling me he had to get me back to my “boyfriend” seconds after we finished? It’s as though Carter relishes in torturing me, which makes me so damn conflicted.
I’m inescapably attracted to him. Yet, I have my doubts that he could ever show his tender side.
Plus, I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that I was just a quick fuck for him. The girl from home who he was never able to conquer.
Until tonight.
And damn, I’d be lying if I say I don’t love how I feel when he conquers me.
When Carter wants something, nothing stands in his way. Even when a girl he wants has a boyfriend, apparently.
His words ring in my ear. That wasn’t a question, Lacy. Come with me, now.
I heave a deep sigh as I swig from my beer. It’s not even that cold, but it was unopened when I found it on the top deck of the yacht. And that’s just the kind of mood I’m in right now.
I run a hand through my hair.
And the worst thing about it all? Even if I deny him with my words, Carter knows how badly I want him. When he pressed me up against the wall and interlocked his hands with mine, I had to fight to stop myself from moaning again in his grip.
From one asshole—who dumps me the day I finally decide to move to his city—to another.
Straight-up asking Carter to be nicer to me has been one big fail. The man does not respond to requests. And then he has the balls to tell me I’m the one who has a questionable character?
I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip my head around.
It’s Davina.
“Hey,” she says, her voice soft. I do my best to relax my body and play nice. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” I say. “Just getting some air.”
“It’s a beautiful night out,” she says. “You sure you’re okay? You look stressed.”
I clench up. Is her whole reason for talking to me just to comment on how out of it I currently seem? On the other hand, it’s not like that’s an inaccurate comment. My stomach is in knots.
“I’m fine,” I shrug. “It’s been a fun night.”
Davina leans next to me on the railing. Her blond hair blows in the wind. Even when her hair is messy, she’s totally gorgeous.
“Well, I just want to let you know. I’ve heard you’re from a small town. I’m from New York, so Chicago is like a play town to me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve watched you dancing over the last couple of weeks. And you’re really good. But I feel like you aren’t sure of yourself. If you had a little more confidence, I think you’d have one of the top spots, easy.”
“Really?”
I’m suddenly struck by Davina’s niceness. Maybe I’ve misjudged her all along.
It’s not her fault she looks perfect all the time, even when her hair is being blown every which way by an open lake breeze.
She nods and takes her hand away. “I do. By the way, have you seen Carter?”
My smile fades as I wonder if she came up to talk to me for the sole reason of finding out about Carter.
“No, I haven’t seen him lately,” I lie. “Why, are you looking for him?”
“It’s just . . . it’s weird,” she says. “I was talking to him a little while ago, and when he found out Lance was gay, he stormed off.”
My heart skips a beat. “Oh.”
She grins. “Yeah, weird, right? I mean, Lance is here with his boyfriend. I’m pretty sure they were making out earlier. Does it get any more obvious?”
My blood boils. So when Carter told me he’d better get me back to my boyfriend, he was just toying with me? And he didn’t exactly give me a whole lot of runway to explain myse
lf and why I decided to fake things with Lance.
“Yeah,” I joke. “Well that’s funny! I . . . gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be back,” I say, taking off.
“I have to go to the bathroom, too,” Davina says, following after me.
“Okay,” I say, stepping quickly to the stairs. I take a step down and my phone buzzes. I stop and check. It’s Lance, telling me he’s on the top deck and asking me where the hell I am.
“You know what, Davina? Come with me. Let’s play a little trick on Carter.”
Her eyes light up. “What did you have in mind?”
“Just follow me. I’ll explain.”
“Guys!” I yell, throwing up my hands. “What happened to fake boyfriend mode!”
Lance pushes off Joseph, and then gives anyone in the vicinity—which is no one—a confused look. “Oh my God! That was weird.”
I roll my eyes, holding back a slight smile at his antics. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re having fun. But—we have a situation. And I need your help. Both of you.”
Joseph’s arm is still wrapped around Lance. “What’s the matter, honey?”
I normally don’t kiss and tell. But on the other hand, I have rarely had much to kiss and tell about. And something is gnawing at me to confess what Carter and I did, if only to one person. Or two people, in this case.
“I kinda . . . slept with Carter.”
Davina’s eyes widen. I shrug and look at her. “I might as well let you into the circle of trust at this point,” I say.
Joseph and Lance’s jaws drop. “Just now?” Lance asks. “Like on this boat?!”
I nod. “He has a room on the bottom deck.”
Lance frowns. “What happened to your boyfriend, though?”
“He apparently doesn’t care that I have a boyfriend.”
“Wow,” Davina nods. “You were right. He really does have some issues.”
“Holy shit, that’s hot,” Joseph blurts. “And speaking of bottom decks, I wish I could see his bottom deck.”
Lance frowns. “Honey. Really?”
“What?!” Joseph quips. “You’re the one who said he was hall-pass worthy.”
“Hall-pass worthy?” I question.
“Yeah. You know,” Joseph answers. “Like a guy . . . or girl . . . who is so hot that if you had the opportunity, your significant other would grant you an, ahem, exception.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “A hall-pass.”
“Ohh,” I nod. “I get it.”
Lance frowns at Joseph. I have a feeling hall-pass is one of those ‘better in theory than in practice’ types of situations.
Lance grabs his drink from the arm of the couch they’re sitting on, takes a sip, and when he puts it down his expression is inquisitive.
“Wait a second,” Lance says, and holds one finger up. “So you’re telling me that Carter was under the impression that you had a boyfriend, and hooked up with you anyway?”
I sit down next to them. “I’m not one hundred percent sure. I think he may have somehow found out you two were gay.”
Joseph shrugs. “Honestly, we’ve been a little careless with our makeouts tonight. But we’re on a yacht!”
“I know,” I sigh. “It’s okay. But something is messed up with Carter. The very first thing he said to me after we were done having sex was ‘I better get you back to your boyfriend.’”
“Ohhh! He was totally fucking with you!” Lance practically yells.
“Yes. He was. And now I want to fuck with Carter. But I’m going to need you guys to play pretend for one more hour. Think you can do that?”
“Ohhh,” Joseph says. “She’s got a plan! I’m excited! What do you need from us?”
“Well, it involves you pretending you’re straight—hardcore straight—for one more hour.” I put my hand on Joseph’s forearm. “I need you in on this too.”
He laughs. “Honey, I pretended I was straight for my parents for twenty-one years. I think I can handle one more hour.”
“Wow. That’s unexpectedly dark.”
Lance rubs his back. “It’s all good, Lace. We enjoy helping you. And Joseph never gets to utilize his theatre minor these days. He’s too busy using his Ph.D in Psychotherapy.”
“But tonight, I forget everything I learned in psychotherapy school and return to my acting ways in college. I can be straighter than a Boy Scout at summer camp.”
I run a hand through my hair, slightly unsure of what he means by that. “Anyways, when we’re done, you’re released from being my fake boyfriend with whom I have loud sex.”
Lance frowns. “Can I still come over and make you and Carter bacon and eggs some mornings?”
I roll my eyes.
“Just kidding,” Lance adds. “Bad Lacy is coming out of her shell. I like where this is heading.”
So Carter wants to mess with my head on purpose? Two can play at this game. Time to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Shewolf by Shakira comes out of the speakers, and I smile devilishly at how appropriate a song it is as I look up at the full moon.
“Just do me a favor,” I say, lowering my voice and looking to see if anyone’s around. “When Carter comes by, let’s play a trick on him. Lance, pretend we’re dating. Joseph, act like you and Davina are together. Have some fun with it.”
Davina bites her lip. “Oohh, I like games like this.”
“What’s in it for us?” Joseph quips.
I scrunch my face up. “Helping a friend?”
“How about you tell us what happened with you and Carter,” Lance begs. “The real story. I want to know, where did you and Carter go wrong?”
Looking down at my full drink, my mind floods with memories. The warm wind brushes my face, and I feel my body buzzing.
“I’m glad this boat isn’t docking tonight, because this story is going to take a while.”
“We’re all ears,” Joseph says, sipping his drinks.
I draw a circle in the air. “Circle of trust, guys. Do not tell anyone this story. It’s between us only.”
17
Lacy
Ten Years ago, Junior year of high school
“Head to bed, honey,” my father says, shooing me up the stairs. His breath smells like whisky, and he’s still got a flask of Wild Turkey in his hand, waving at me as I go up the stairs.
My sister is already fast asleep, and I should be too, except when you’re sixteen and you hear your mother outside crying with her best friend, your ears perk up.
“Why, Dad? What are Mom and Mrs. Flynn talking about out there?”
We both get to the top of the stairs, and he pauses, floating his eyes away from me and taking another swig of his bottle.
He’s never been the same since he lost his job two years ago.
“Some things, honey, ain’t for little girls to know about. You’ll grow up and have your own problems some day. But let Mrs. Flynn and your Mom talk it out in private.”
“Fine,” I mutter, crossing my arms and stomping to my room.
I wish Carter were here. Our Moms are like two peas in a pod when they get together, gossiping about things from the town and reminiscing about their glory days in high school. I love when Mrs. Flynn brings Carter along, because he always finds something to do to entertain the both of us.
We’ve been hanging out together since I was a little kid, and he even taught me to tie my shoe laces. Laces, he called me after that. “I’ll help you with anything else you need,” he’d say with a wink. I tried making fun of him back, calling him “Lil Carter,” but the name didn’t exactly stick after Carter hit his second high school growth spurt.
Cartwheel stuck, though.
The truth is, I enjoy when he calls me Laces.
In my room, I close my door and open my window. We live on the outskirts of the town, and the sound drifts, so I can pick up snippets of their conversation.
Between sobs, I hear one word many times over. “Carter...Carter…”
Furrowing my brow, I turn my ear to th
e window, straining to hear the conversation. The wind picks up, howling, and I can’t hear a thing.
I head out of my room, and down to my parent’s room. Creaking the door open ever so slowly, I see what I expected: my father passed out in the room, with lights on, snoring. The Wild Turkey is on the desk next to him. I sigh. It’s sad to see him like this, when even just three years ago, he was the most disciplined man I knew, waking up at four thirty A.M. to head to his shift at the tool and dye factory.
Now he can’t even stay up ten minutes to keep his curious daughter from eavesdropping on her mother.
Tip-toeing downstairs, I head to the front of the downstairs. Cracking a window ever so slightly--and slowly--I press my ear to the screen and listen.
“He’s been threatening me again,” Mrs. Flynn says. “He called me the other day. Sometimes I’m afraid, I’m afraid he’ll come here and do something crazy.”
I bite my nails, feeling my heart palpitating deeply.
“Something crazy? Like what?” comes my mom’s voice.
There’s a pause, and I hear them pouring more wine.
“I don’t know. Like . . . something menacing. I don’t think he’s got it in him to kill us, but who knows? Carter’s father is a sociopath. He’d do anything to get what he wants. He didn’t even want me to have Carter.”
“So what did you tell him?” my mom asks.
“I told his father to mind his own asshole business. That I want nothing to do with him and his double life. That the decision to find him will be up to Carter when he turns eighteen, if he wants to seek out his father.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I heard that. Carter’s dad--as far as anyone knew--had been dead since he was one year old. Mrs. Flynn said he’d suffocated on a pillow in freak accident, and we’d never thought to question it, it’s not the sort of question you ask politely.
I keep eavesdropping, hanging on Mrs. Flynn’s every word.
“I just . . . sometimes I hate this life, you know? But Carter’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wish things could have been different.”
My mom starts to cry too. “It’s my fault. I should have never decided to go to Vegas for my stupid bachelorette party.”
The Lying Game Page 10
