One Little Lie: a hate to love rom-com

by Whitney Barbetti

  I cringed, remembering the one time I had said that—in a drunken stupor, naturally, in high school. Before he hated me. “Yes, I saw him. But he hates me, so…”

  “Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. How can anyone hate you?”

  I picked at the hem of my shirt, remembering how he’d looked at me with eyes so dark that I would’ve done anything to avoid looking into them. “Well, he hates me. For sure. No doubt about that.” I glanced at the work on my computer waiting for my attention and sighed. “My dad emailed me,” I said. “I haven’t opened it.”

  “Ugh, don’t. You’re just going to have your good mood darkened.”

  “Am I in a good mood though?” I asked her. “Adam hates me, I’ve got so much to do until class starts tomorrow, and I already have a line of people wanting my help.”

  “You mean you have a line of people waiting for you to do their work for them. Hols, you’re really such a pushover.”

  “I’m not.” But I was.

  “Did you tell Adam about how you two have been hot and heavy the last couple of years?”

  “No.” My face soured. “Somehow, I didn’t have a chance to sneak that into the conversation.”

  “That’s surprising,” she deadpanned. “But you should. You could be well on your way to accessing that trust fund.”

  “That’s upon my engagement,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but you can’t be engaged until you actually start dating someone, like for real.”

  “I have been dating someone, a fake someone.”

  “Yes, so you need to bring that fake someone—Adam—around the ‘rents to make it look real. Maybe your parents will realize their antiquated ways and amend the trust again so you still get it after graduation.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Why is that unlikely? They amended it once. They could do it again.”

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll just own up to the fact that I lied.”

  “Technically, I lied. I told them his name was Adam.”

  “Yes, well I told them there was a he to begin with. And there isn’t. Or wasn’t.”

  “Oh come on, Hols. You need a boyfriend.”

  “Oh sure, let me just order one on Amazon. I’m sure I can find one with good reviews and two day shipping.”

  “Ooh, feisty Hols, I like it. But I’m serious.” I could hear her clicking and I imagined her searching Amazon for gently used fiances. It was almost enough to make me laugh. “You paid for Adam’s car repairs, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “Then maybe he can do you a favor. You know. Pretend.”

  “Sure, my dad would just love that. Also, how convenient that I go to school and immediately have a fiancé.”

  “Well, ease into it, dum-dum. They already think you have a legit relationship. Start slow. I bet you could pull off a believable engagement before graduation.”

  Glancing at the calendar I said, “Oh sure, just keep up the ruse for the next seven months. No sweat!” I sighed, flopping onto my back on my bed. Papers flew up around me and I winced, imaging the mess they were making. “I am not seriously entertaining this idea.”

  “But you should.”

  “Isn’t it pretty slimy for me to tell him he doesn’t have to pay me back for his car repairs, just as long as he pretends to like me enough to convince my dad we’re on track to get engaged?”

  “How much were his repairs?”

  “Irrelevant,” I huffed. “Drop it, Tori. I’m not going to go along with this. No way.”

  “I’m just saying. It’s not a terrible idea. You scratch his back, he scratches yours.”

  “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he’d rather just claw my back.”

  “Ooh, kinky. I like it.”

  She was trying to make me laugh, so I obliged her. But in the back of my mind, I knew my dad’s ultimatum for the trust was going to have to be dealt with one way or another. That’s what my tutoring income was for. It wasn’t enough to completely live off of, but if I kept socking it away, maybe slowly I’d be able to build up enough money that I could do what I wanted: not go to law school. “Maybe I should just listen to my mom and meet up with David.” But that felt more like sending myself off to be slaughtered.

  “David?”

  “Come on, you know David. His mom was at my dad’s party.”

  I heard the crunch of her chips. “Give me a hint.”

  “Box wine.”

  “Oh, hell. Dick pic David?”

  I blinked. “Dick pic David? What dick pic?”

  “I didn’t tell you?” Tori sighed. “Well, that’s probably because it was unmemorable. Unsolicited, and unmemorable. Two strikes before he even went up to bat. Not that it was an impressive bat. Ugh, he dropped one in my texts. Anyway, your mom wanted you to hook up with David?”

  “I’m still processing the fact that he sent you a dick pic.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t. Clearly, I forgot about it because I never told you. You’re not missing anything. Big yikes.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. He just got back from Florida, I guess.”

  “Really? That surprises me. He was on his mom’s tit before he left the womb. I thought he was still there.”

  I laughed. “He only leaves long enough to steal her wine, I guess.” My phone chimed a notification for another email and anxiety filled my chest. “I got to go, Tori. I have a lot on my plate and I still need to go to sleep at a normal time tonight.”

  “I get it. Call me after class! And don’t worry—you’re going to have the best first day.”

  I hung up and sat up, staring at the mess that awaited my notice. My phone pinged with yet another tutoring request. Tutoring was how I made money—yes—but some people liked to think their “five second question” which was never five seconds, didn’t merit compensation for my time. For my friends, I would’ve helped in a heartbeat. But for people who only texted or called me for help, I knew I should be more assertive about charging them what I charged my actual tutoring clients.

  Overwhelmed and under pressure and I were in a threesome. It was pretty much life-long at this point, but the pressure was only getting more intense—which exacerbated the feeling of being completely overwhelmed. I was really good at playing it off like I had my life together. Never overreacting, always complying—at least when it came to my dad. And my friends, really. I loved my friends. But I was a yes girl.

  “Hey, Hollis. Can you edit my paper? I know it’s last minute and due tomorrow.”

  Yes, I can.

  “Hols, I’m short fifty bucks. Can you spot me?”

  Yes.

  “I really need a tutor for class. Can you meet me when I’m not hungover on Sunday night to go over the course?”

  Yes.

  “Can you share notes with me? I don’t really feel like going to class today.”

  Yes.

  “Can you be my partner? I don’t know what to do and you’re so good at it.”

  Yes.

  It was my own fault, of course. It was if I had been preprogrammed as a child to say yes even when I only wanted to say no. To do everything asked of me even if it was my last fifty bucks, even if I hadn’t slept for three days, even if I was sick with pneumonia and unable to get out of bed. I was motivated by my fear of failure—and in succeeding for everyone else, I was failing myself. I knew I needed boundaries, but I’d created a monster. In looking at my email, and the three emails with proofreading requests from people who weren’t actually friends but who felt like I was their friend when they were in need of something, plus the two requests from people who wanted me to make a resume for them based on their information, and staring down at my tutoring schedule for the following week, I knew I had taken on too much. Way too much.

  I blew out a breath through my nose, practiced some breathing techniques, but no number of inhalations would clean out my inbox to my satisfaction. I clenched my fists and released, hoping the blood flow would cool m
e down. But it was no use.

  And the cherry on the sundae of shit was the email from my father, with links to four acceptable law schools and the personal numbers of three tutors for my LSAT. The email ended with a note:

  Your mother indicated that you have not yet hired a tutor for your LSAT. I wish I could say I am surprised, but I’m not. Here is a list of tutors who come highly recommended from my legal team. Interview each of them and see which one would be acceptable. We will pay for it, of course, but you don’t have much time. One month until the test. You will have to devote much of the next few weeks to studying.

  Expecting your answer by tomorrow.

  The thing that made me laugh was that he didn’t sign the email with “Dad.” No, he used his standard company-related email signature, like this was a business transaction. I guess, really, it was. I wasn’t his child, I was a product to improve.

  My mom was right; I hadn’t hired a tutor. Because I hadn’t had any intentions of taking the Law School Administration Test. It was stupid of me, really, I knew. Dad wasn’t going to go quietly, especially not with the recent trust fund amendment. Before, graduation had been the stipulation. But now, knowing that he could change the circumstances if I went against his wishes, I had no choice but to take the damn test. There was no way I could procure a fiancé by the end of the school year, eliminating the issue of taking the test and continuing on to law school. I had to keep Dad happy if I ever wanted to see a drop of that money. And I did.

  I wished I could say to hell with it all, but I wasn’t a girl who gave up. Someone better than me might turn up their nose at my father’s—let’s just call it what it was—bribe. But I wanted that money. I justified it by reminding myself that I wanted to do good things with that money, things that I simply could not do without it. There was no way I’d be able to afford to go help poorer countries rehabilitate after disaster or misfortune. Money was my opportunity and I hated that I wanted it as bad as I did.

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a cleansing breath. When I released it, I looked around my room, grateful for the privacy. Dorm living had been fine except instead of plastering on a smile when I was in class or in a group, I had to do it all the time. Here, in the apartment I shared with Navy, I had a space dedicated just to me and my breakdowns. I could be me in this room—it was the only place on earth I felt I could safely be me. And the real me was shaken by the load on my plate, which was growing taller and more overwhelming by the minute.

  I had no choice but to take the LSAT. I had no choice but to apply to law schools and hope to find a boyfriend who didn’t find me cold or insensitive or boring. That last one was the most worrisome one, really. Because I knew I was warm and sensitive, but I also knew I was relatively boring.

  My phone pinged and I glanced at it. Another email from another student—former dorm roommate this time—asking for free tutoring this weekend. Classes hadn’t even begun and people were already banging on my figurative door, asking for favors that they weren’t certain they’d need.

  When Navy knocked on my door a few minutes later, I was mid temple rub, trying to release the migraine that was growing larger by the minute. “Yeah?”

  “Hollis?” Navy pushed the door open and stood there for a moment, looking me over. “Are you all right?”

  I gave her a weak smile. “Headache is all. What’s up?” I couldn’t even be honest with her, because she’d want to sit on my bed and pet my head while I unloaded. But I simply didn’t have time to unload in that way, nor was I comfortable dumping my woes on Navy.

  “Well.” She clasped her hands in front of her and her expression took on one of concern. “I did a bad thing, Hollis.”

  “What?” The pressure was mounting in my head and I struggled to keep my cool.

  She blinked and sat on my bed anyway. I’d have to keep my head away from her so she couldn’t deliver this likely emotional blow with a hand stroking my hair. “I was talking to Keane this weekend when I was at the mall. He was with me when I had to deposit the cash you used for Adam’s car repairs and anyway…”

  I sighed, but it did nothing to alleviate the stress that was mounting in my brain. “So you told Keane who told Adam who now knows I lied,” I deduced.

  “Yes. And he decided to come over here.”

  I stared blankly at her.

  “He’s downstairs now. He wants to talk to you.”

  I was torn between crying, screaming, and tossing my books off my bed to bury myself under the covers. But because I was not reactionary, I told her, “Well, send him in. I’m in the mood to be yelled at.”

  12

  Adam

  She had the presence of mind to look at least a little remorseful as she stood in her doorway.

  “You sure you don’t want to have the fight downstairs?” Navy asked, braced at the top of the stairs as she looked between us. It would be comical if I weren’t so pissed off.

  “No, because there are knives there. I’m sure Adam wouldn’t hesitate to use them,” Hollis said. She looked different than she had last week. Not necessarily her appearance; her clothes were perfectly pressed, and her hair looked neat and tidy. But her eyes. There was something in their depths. Something uncontrolled.

  “That’s fair,” I said, looking from Navy to Hollis. I watched the delicate lines of her throat shift as she swallowed, her only tell to her own anxiety, as she stood aside and let me enter the room.

  “We’ll be down in a minute, Navy,” Hollis said, confidently for someone who looked like she was preparing for a guillotine.

  “Okay, well if you hurt her,” Navy pressed a finger in my chest, “I’ll hurt you back.” Navy was probably the gentlest person I had ever come across but because I knew she was also sensitive I just nodded my understanding.

  Hollis shut the door behind me and moved to her bed, sitting down perfectly straight as she stared at me. “I lied to you.”

  “Yeah, you did.” I was angry on the way over, which was why Keane had insisted on accompanying me. But now that I was here, standing in her sparsely-decorated bedroom, I tried to remember exactly what had driven that anger.

  “Would you have accepted my help if I hadn’t lied?”

  “That’s not something I can answer. It doesn’t matter because you lied to me.” Ah, there it was. The anger I had been overflowing with before I’d called Keane.

  “Kind of a moot point now, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “I don’t like liars, Hollis. I’ll sell my keyboard and get you the money tomorrow.”

  She waved it off and shook her head. “That’s stupid, don’t do that. I told you, I’m not in a rush for the money.”

  There was that word. Stupid. It wasn’t a word I took lightly. Too stupid for college, too stupid to get a job in a town where Gram and Casey were. “I’m not stupid.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I said selling your keyboard would be stupid.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Lying is stupid. Is that how you get by in life, by lying?”

  “Oh,” she said laughing without humor, “I wish I could get by on lies. I wish I could dance around the truth and fool everyone but I can’t.”

  “I remember how you were in high school. The people you hung around with.” Her eyes flared at that.

  “Who, like Navy? Tori?”

  “Ah, yeah, Tori.”

  Her back straightened. “What’s wrong with Tori?”

  “Nothing is…” I ran my hand through my hair with frustration. “She’s flighty.”

  “She just knows what she wants; she’s self-assured.”

  “Is that what all your little high school buddies were? Self-assured? So sure of themselves that they had to belittle others?”

  “I never belittled anyone.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, you kept the company of bullies. You should take full responsibility for how you were in high school.”

  A light went into her eyes. It wasn’t confusion or frustration. It was anger. “What do you mean?
”

  “You know what I mean.” When she stared blankly at me, I gritted my teeth. “I thought you were different. But it didn’t take long for me to see who you were. You might have been nice at one point.”

  “I’m not claiming I was a saint. But I didn’t go out of my way to be mean.”

  “No, you just supported those who were.”

  “I didn’t support them.”

  “Sure you did. By being silent. Your silence spoke louder than dissenting words could.” I shrugged. “You were different,” I repeated, as if that said enough. “Until you weren’t.”

  She had a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and its edges were only sharper when she set her jaw like she was doing then. But it was the fire in her eyes that pulled me in, fire I hadn’t seen from her. Was this the same person who’d quietly given me a ride despite my biting remarks, who had been kind to my sister when she didn’t have to be? “I’m the same as I’ve always been.” But something flitted across her eyes, telling me that wasn’t the entire truth. “I’m not a product of the people I spend time with, but Tori is a good friend of mine. She has never once made you feel less than. And you know it.” She was standing, pointing a finger at me, inches from my chest.

  “But you did,” I said and nearly regretted it. It was the truth, but it was my truth and not hers, judging by the hurt that shone in her eyes. Her eyes grew wide, searching.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “When?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, waving her off. “It’s old news.”

  “Obviously it isn’t if it’s still bothering you.” Her arms tightened across her chest, her jaw set harder and her chin lifted. There. That was the way I had thought of her after that night at the party.

  I pointed to her face. “You’re doing it right now. You might not think you are, but you’re looking down your nose at me. Literally and figuratively.” I thought of her family, of the eyes that matched her father’s, the eyes that were shooting daggers at me. “Once your dad fired mine, I was real trash. You merely took pity on me in high school, at that party”