Chasing Truth

by Julie Cross

  “Hey, Dad.” Miles tugs Dominic’s folder from the D section and lays it open on the floor. He pulls a tiny digital camera from another pocket and begins snapping photos of papers. “Yep, it’s going well…I’m learning all kinds of new skills.”

  I open Bret’s folder—not the least bit curious about Miles’s conversation. I quickly flip pages, pausing only to snap a picture. We can look through all of this later.

  Miles laughs. “I can’t learn Turkish by Christmas. Tell Mom to pick a new spot.”

  I return Bret’s folder. My fingers drift slowly through to the G section.

  “…I’m at the homecoming dance…yes, with someone.” Miles glances at me and then turns back to his file. He shifts the phone to the ear closest to me so he can turn a page. I hear a man’s voice on the other end say, “Well, make sure you’re having some fun.”

  Miles stands and walks across the room, his back to me. I glance at him and then on impulse, I tug Simon’s folder from the cabinet, pulling it halfway out and opening it enough to read some of the papers.

  Simon Gilbert is one of the most kind, observant, and self-aware students I have ever had the pleasure of working with. He is an asset to this school, his community and I firmly believe he will be an asset to your university…

  A letter of recommendation from one of Simon’s teachers last year. I smile at the letter. This is so him. Was him. I flip back several pages.

  Simon seems to be struggling with sexual identity. We’ve discussed in great length how he can approach his family and have even practiced conversations. But his wariness seems to increase with each of our interactions. Today he appears especially deflated and negative regarding the topic. I’m worried he’s backsliding and have asked him to check in with me again in a few days.

  My insides ache, my heart pounding. I check the date at the top of the page: May 19. Last semester. I shove the folder back into place and jump to my feet. I motion to Miles that I’m heading back to the gym. He looks like he’s about to say something, but I take off before he can.

  Every step on my way back to the gym feels weighted. The dinner we had before the dance is churning in my stomach. I nearly run into Justice near the gym doors and almost forget to plaster on my happy face for her.

  “I think Miles is talking to his parents or something,” I tell her. “He was on the phone when I went to the bathroom.”

  “Oh, okay. That’s good I guess. He said he doesn’t get to talk to them much.”

  Well, she knows more than I do then. Since he fed me the fictional murdered parents’ story, he hasn’t told me much truth about them. I do know they work for the government and travel out of the country frequently. Being equal partners and all, I’m afraid to ask him more, afraid he’ll do the same with me.

  Physically, I’m in the gym, at the dance, but my head is still in Geist’s office mulling over Simon’s file. I jump when a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

  “Easy there,” Bret says, his breath hitting my ear. “Thought you might want to dance.”

  I plaster on another smile and suppress the shiver of warning that races over me. “Love to.”

  The song is slow, and my false enthusiasm must have been a little too convincing, because soon I’m pressed up against Bret Thomas, the guy many many girls would love to get close to and again, I’m not in the right head space for this. I was earlier. Before the office. I could have nailed this romantic dance moment. Maybe even pulled off a convincing kiss, gotten him to open a bit. But now I’m filled with a thousand doubts.

  Across the gym, Miles has ended his phone call in time to slow dance with my interior decorator. And unlike me, he is pulling off a convincing romantic moment. Maybe too convincing.

  The air in my lungs feels lodged. My chest tightens. The bodies around me close in and all I can see is Simon, doing his weird jerky-looking dance to an eighties song during the spring formal and me laughing at him, no longer worried about my own dancing. He was here. We were here. And then he was gone. What if I had done something different? Asked him to hang out after, stayed up all night talking. Maybe he would still be here.

  I must have tensed, because Bret pulls back and looks at me. “You okay?”

  “I’m…I’m just…” Breathe, Ellie. Just breathe. “Excuse me for a minute.”

  I tug myself out of his hold and disappear in the sea of dresses and suits.

  CHAPTER 28

  I head out one of the unguarded gym doors, down a dark hall, and into the first classroom I spot. The lights are out, so I sink against the wall across from the door, sliding until I’m seated on the floor. The music from the gym is faint but still floating in the air—a reminder.

  Breathe, Ellie. Pull it together. You’ve got this. Go back out there and turn on the charm.

  But the pep talk only seems to make things worse. Because when I came to that dance with Simon, it was under such different pretenses. I wasn’t trying to hold on to an asset or steal files from the guidance counselor, or fight off feelings for someone who likely sees me as a resource and nothing more. I was here to have fun. To try to start a new life. With my friend. My friend who is gone. He died along with the hope of me truly escaping my past.

  I hear light footsteps near the classroom. I immediately wipe the tears from my cheeks and mentally prepare a cover story to tell Bret, who has likely come in search of me after my dramatic exit. It’s too dark in here to see a face, but I don’t need to. The moment he sits on the floor beside me, I recognize the soap and cinnamon scent.

  “Shouldn’t the crying at the dance part happen in the bathroom with a dozen other girls around you?” Miles says.

  I use my hands to do a better job wiping my face. I don’t think Miles has ever seen me cry for real, and I’d rather he didn’t. I’d rather no one saw. “What if we were wrong about Simon? That clue you say you have? Maybe it doesn’t mean what you think it means. What if he…” I swallow the giant lump in my throat. “What if he was depressed or whatever?”

  “Where is the girl who was so sure of all of this?” Miles says. “What happened to your rock-solid confidence?”

  “It was mostly an act,” I admit.

  He leans his head against the wall beside me. “I take it you read his file?”

  Guilt creeps over me. “I know it wasn’t part of our plan, but I saw it—”

  “He was your friend, too, Ellie,” Miles whispers. “Just because I knew him longer doesn’t give me the right to take away your grief. You needed him. And he’s gone. You deserve answers just as much as I do.”

  I swipe away a couple of fresh tears and will the rest not to fall. “I can’t stand the idea that maybe he was falling apart and I didn’t even notice.”

  “I’m not sure what Simon was doing talking to Geist regularly, but I do know that his family wasn’t in the dark about him being gay. Not that they loved it.” He laughs, and there’s a bitterness to it that sends a chill through me. “But they knew.”

  “Then what—” I stop myself from asking what his angle was. Simon didn’t have angles. That’s my world. And it seems to be Miles’s world now, too. At least while he’s here doing his experiential learning.

  “The clue that I have?” Miles says.

  I sit up straighter, looking over at him. “Yeah?”

  “He made plans to meet up with me.” Miles’s own voice cracks a bit. “Very simple, clear plans. Days before…”

  I can tell there’s more. There’s something else he’s leaving out, but damn does it feel good to hear this. To hear that I’m not crazy thinking Simon seemed so much like himself that night. He made plans to meet up with Miles.

  “Thanks,” I whisper. “For telling me.”

  We sit in silence for several seconds, and I try my best to get my head back into the mission but I can’t seem to. “God, I should be in there working on Bret. I suck at this homecoming dance stuff.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Miles stands and holds a hand out to me. “How abo
ut we take a short break from our real dates.”

  “A break?” I ask, but already my hand is landing in his. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Dancing,” he says simply.

  I glance around the dark classroom. “Here?”

  The music seems to grow louder. It’s another slow song. Miles is more subtle, more gentle than Bret had been when he brings us together. One hand rests on the small of my back, slowly drifting me in his direction; the other hand wraps around one of mine. He brings our fingers to his chest, leaving my face inches from his shoulder.

  I attempt to relax, but soon I’m filled with a whole different kind of tension. The kind that feels good. The kind that has the potential to make me forget all my other worries and just be here, wanting more. Wanting skin against my skin and lips on mine.

  His hand slides up my back, pausing right between my shoulder blades. He presses gently until my nose brushes his suit jacket and I’m surrounded by the sights and smells of Miles Beckett. I close my eyes and inhale, memorizing this. There is value in this memory, even if it goes no further than right here. It’s the first time I’ve wanted someone, just because, just for me and only me. All my costumes are lying in a heap at my feet.

  I rest my cheek against his shoulder. Warm fingers slide my hair to one side, and then Miles’s nose drifts over the skin on my neck. I inhale a sharp breath, my body responding a little too openly. My heart speeds, and I’m sure he can feel it.

  And for once, I don’t care. I’ve wanted this since that chef delivered a tuna casserole to my lunch table and I imagined Miles as my date tonight.

  His heart beats rapidly against mine, his mouth skimming along the side of my neck, melting me into a gooey puddle on the floor. Just when I’m near explosion, his lips touch my ear. “You drive me crazy. You know that, right?”

  I work to breathe normally, but my mouth is dangerously close to his cheek, his chin, and lots of other places I’d love to touch. I slide my free hand into the back of his hair and drag my fingers through it. His eyes close and he sighs. “Ellie—”

  I can hear his discipline winning, and I can’t let that happen.

  “Your dad told you to have some fun, didn’t he?” I argue. “It shouldn’t be all work and no play.”

  “It shouldn’t.” His lips press gently against my neck. I suck in a breath; my fingers tighten around his hair. “But how much fun are we allowed? A minute? Five?”

  I raise my head, every part of my body aching for more. “Doesn’t matter. Just—please—”

  His mouth crashes against mine, and both of us groan in response. He releases me just long enough to bring his hands to my face, gripping it tight. He nudges me backward until the wall stops me. Miles’s hands roam over my body, over the tight dress, searching for skin. My fingers find their way inside his suit jacket and tug at his shirt until the tails are hanging down. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes when Miles pulls his mouth from mine and plants kisses up and down the front of my neck.

  “One more minute,” he whispers against my skin. “Maybe two…”

  His mouth finds mine again. He deepens the kiss, our tongues tangling. My fingers dig into his back, bringing him closer. Close enough to feel that he’s as turned on as me. I’m not thinking clearly or I’m thinking perfectly clearly, no outside influences getting in the way, when one of my hands slides down to his butt and brings our hips together.

  Miles tears his mouth from mine, his lips resting against my cheek when he mumbles, “Jesus.”

  He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine and staying firmly in place. A hand lands on my thigh, moves north slowly until it’s beneath my dress. I swallow a gasp when his fingers pause on the edge of my panties, then his thumb makes small circles just above the waistband.

  With his gaze locked on me, he whispers, “Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything you want.”

  I hold his stare, my eyes wide, heart pounding. It feels like this is about more than right now.

  “Where do you think they went?”

  Justice’s voice rings loud and clear from the hallway. Miles and I both freeze. He slides us over until we’re tucked away in the darkest corner of the room.

  “Hell if I know,” Bret says, louder. They’re close.

  Miles rests his forehead against mine. “We’ve been gone too long.”

  I cover his mouth with my index finger. “Shhh.”

  He smiles, shifts my finger over and leans in until his mouth hovers over mine. “Ten more seconds.”

  He steals another kiss, this one slower and quiet, more tender. The last thing I want to do is leave this room, but I don’t have a choice. We can’t stay here forever kissing.

  “Don’t move,” I order before stepping out of his arms. I exit the classroom and wait for Bret and Justice to spot me. One positive from my meltdown earlier is that I’m likely left with red eyes.

  “Hey, where you been—” Bret stops when he sees my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Justice isn’t wearing the sympathetic expression my date now has on. She’s looking me over carefully, eyebrows lifted. She glances over at Bret. “Give us a minute? Girl talk.”

  He lifts both hands. “Fine. I’ll be in the gym with Dominic.”

  Dominic’s here? Miles told me he wasn’t coming to the dance. He’ll want to keep an eye on him now, and he’s stuck in a classroom.

  “You haven’t seen Miles anywhere, have you?” Justice asks. Before I can answer, she steps into the classroom and flips on the light. Revealing Miles hidden in a corner. When she turns to me again, she looks at me like I’m completely different.

  “Wow…” She shakes her head.

  “We weren’t—” I start at the same time Miles says, “She needed to—”

  “Save it.” Justice shakes her head and laughs. “I underestimated you, Ellie. I knew you weren’t completely harmless but this…this requires top-grade mean-girl skill.”

  Guilt I hadn’t expected to feel hits me hard. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t trying to do anything—”

  “I said save it,” she snaps. “Can’t say I wasn’t warned. Miles asked me to homecoming as friends. He was very up-front. But you…” She stops. Exhales. Appears to get her emotions under control. “You should know that Bret is using you.”

  “What could he possibly use me for?” I ask, completely baffled. Not money—I don’t have any and he knows that—or sex—we haven’t even gone to first base.

  She shrugs. “Guess he thinks you’re important.”

  Justice starts to walk away, and my heart is pounding all over again, for new reasons. I reach out and touch her arm to stop her. “Important how?”

  She looks at me, hurt concealed behind her solid composure. “Simon Gilbert told him you were some big legacy at Holden Prep. That your family had power with the school and could make things happen.”

  Behind me, I can practically hear Miles’s thinking. Why would Simon make up that lie about me?

  “Is that why you wanted to hang out with me?” I ask her.

  Justice tugs her arm back and steps farther from me. “He told me that like ten minutes ago. I was trying to find you to give you a heads-up.”

  With that, she spins and walks briskly down the hall. It appears that I may have made a real friend without realizing it and in the same moment managed to lose that friend.

  Well done, Ellie. All in a day’s work.

  I’m still processing, so I barely notice Miles step away from me and head down the hall until I see his walk—it’s full of purpose and definite action. I’d expected him to go after Justice, to apologize; that’s the Miles Beckett way.

  I jog as best I can in my heels to catch him. “Where are you going?”

  “To have a little chat with Bret.”

  I grab his jacket, halting him in place. “You are not going near him right now.”

  He shakes out of my grip, turns to face me, and I immediately panic. He’s got t
hat “I’m gonna get what I need from him and I don’t care who knows about it” look. I’ve been in this position before. Listening to someone lie to me, feed me a bunch of BS, and wanting to break character, shake them, and force out the truth. But it’s never worth it.

  “He was there that night, Ellie,” Miles argues. “With a camera. He’s harassing Dominic… I need to know—”

  “Miles.” I wrap my fingers around his biceps, holding him in place. “Let Justice go find him. She’ll tell him we hooked up. We need to let that happen. Turn the tables so I can confront him. Me, not you. Not us. As soon as there’s an ‘us’ questioning Bret, we’re done.”

  He knows this. He’s told me this a hundred times. But I can tell he’s not there yet.

  I shove him into a dark girls’ bathroom and block the door. “What are you planning on doing? Interrogating him until he talks? Blowing your cover?”

  Being the disciplined, compartmentalizing guy he is, it takes only about five seconds for Miles to take a deep breath and look normal again, not like a guy ready to beat the truth out of someone. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m—”

  “Being an idiot?” I suggest.

  “Yes…” His hands land on my face and in the blink of an eye, his mouth is on mine again. He spins me until my back is against the wall. “Last time, I promise.”

  So Miles is one of those guys who can fuel anger into…well, into this. For several seconds, I turn to Jell-O falling, my body held upright by the wall and Miles’s rough hands. Eventually, I grip his face, holding him at a distance, still breathing hard. “What the hell are we doing?”

  “Nothing. It’s done.” He closes his eyes, his forehead resting against mine. “I know you’re going to kill me for saying this but I hate the idea of you talking to him alone. I can’t—”

  “You can be there,” I assure him. “He just can’t know you’re there.”

  Miles steps away from me, putting some cool air between us. He glances around the girls’ bathroom and runs a finger through his hair. “I don’t know why I—”

  “Can’t resist me?” I finish for him.