Break Me (Truth in Lies Book 1)

by Lena Maye

  “I can’t believe I…” The hint of a sneer replacing his normal lilting tone makes my heart thump. I hate how I imagine his thoughts hardening and colliding. How I hold my breath and wait for what comes next. I hate all of this.

  “Fuck you.” His words cut across the stupid familiar song and the laughter from downstairs. His fingers vise my shoulder. Five distinct points digging into my skin.

  I don’t flinch away from his harsh words. I turn towards them and let their bitterness fall around me. I should bite my tongue and stop this argument. “I was never feeling it with you. It was”—I glance down at where he bulges against his zipper—“awkward.”

  Everything about him digs in harder—those fingers curling around my shoulder. Those blue eyes. He’s about to say something else when he glances at his hand. Maybe at the red skin under his fingertips.

  In a flash, something releases in him. He uncurls his fingers and rakes them through carefully placed curls.

  “I thought I’d at least get to, well, you know.” He nods towards the dark end of the hallway. “I thought there was more to you, but I guess you are just—” His forehead creases as he no doubt searches for the perfect word to describe me.

  I’m full of words. “We’ve already covered bitch. Perhaps tease?”

  “—useless.” He shrugs.

  He fucking shrugs. Like dropping that word is nothing. Like I’m nothing.

  Ty’s feet pound down the stairs before I can stutter past that word.

  Useless.

  I slip off the table, my heart pounding in my throat. I need out of this fucking hallway with its dark corners and fake stars. I need—

  Movement at the far end of the hallway. I steal a glance at a gray t-shirt and squeeze my eyes closed. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Well, this is inopportune,” Kepler says in that damn steamroller voice.

  Two

  I squeeze my eyes shut as if that will make Kepler disappear.

  Inopportune. What a stupidly pretentious word. Most people would just say really fucking unlucky.

  Or wrong fucking guy.

  The song ends, and the fabric of his jeans shifts in the beat before another song begins.

  “I was planning on using that table for my evening conquest as well.” There’s humor in his voice. Enough that I let myself peek at him.

  Kepler stands one doorway down. Light from the room behind him spills over his shoulders and creates a damn halo. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. His always-messed blondish hair is darker than normal in the dim light. He is not wearing boring beige chinos. He does not punctuate every sentence with a good-natured smile. If there’s an opposite of Ty, he’s standing in front of me.

  I’m still shaking from the whole useless situation, which I don’t want Kepler to see, so I lean against the wall and use the bitchy tone I was blessed with. “Why aren’t you downstairs with your conquest?”

  “And miss the show?” He clicks off the light behind him, and the halo disappears. I can see his face and those too-intelligent gray eyes.

  I turn and search the room below for Cassie, but I’m pretty sure she’s already knee-deep in bedsheets. She texted me earlier about a guy and that she’ll find a way home in the morning.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t go down there.” Somehow Kepler’s low voice carries over the music even with my back to him. It’s like my ears can’t avoid hearing him.

  But I’ll never let Kepler win so easily. “No one is going to stop me.”

  Downstairs, Ty’s in his little circle of ski-team buddies. He throws down a shot, and the laughter from his friends gets louder. Ty must be telling a good joke. I can guess what the punchline is.

  “I doubt anything can stop you, Lo.” He turns and strolls farther down the hallway—away from me and the stairs. Jeans frayed at the heel and hair crimped up in the back. It’s so much easier to look at Kepler when he’s not digging into me with those smoky-gray eyes.

  “Are you coming?” He throws it over his shoulder like he expects my feet to follow him without question. “There’s a window in here if you’re looking for an escape.” He stops under the doorframe. The real stars peek through a window over his shoulder. “I’ll be a gentleman for once and help you down.”

  I take an appraisal of the obstacles between me and front-door freedom. Stairs. Drunk Ty. Drunk Ty’s laughing friends. Kitchen gossip. No best friend in sight.

  Then I hear Ty—from all the way down the stairs, over the music, over the shouts and laughter. “To china dolls and wasted effort!” He chases the words with a shot.

  Fuck off, Ty.

  “Come on,” Kepler says, his voice softer now. “There’s nothing for you down there except an argument you won’t win.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

  “No, Lo, it’s not.” He takes a deep breath and pushes it out in a sigh. “Besides, I’ve got a hypothesis I’d like to share with you.”

  I blink. “A hypothesis?”

  There’s something else besides smoke and mirrors in his face—a flicker of kindness. A glimpse of the Kepler from when I was fourteen and he helped my father rebuild our fence. But he swallows it like one of Ty’s shots and returns to sharp edges before I can expel a breath.

  He disappears through a doorway, and I’m left alone under fading glow-stars. What the hell does he mean by hypothesis?

  It’s like he knows that curiosity always wins over logic. That I need out of this hallway. And that I’m going to do the stupid thing and follow him.

  Damn him.

  I follow Kepler to a room with a blue-sheeted bed, a wall of snowboards, and a place for everything. This must be Ty’s room, otherwise known as the last place on earth I want to be.

  I pause in the doorway. I’m all for pushing a guy to the edge, but violating his personal space is another thing entirely.

  Kepler looks back at me. “Is there a problem?”

  “Ty’s room.” I glance back down the hallway, but all the other doors are closed. Why am I following Kepler anyway?

  “Don’t like to think of them after you geld them?” He stands in the middle of the room, looking at me like he actually wants an answer to the question. But I have the feeling that, like always, he’s toying with me.

  “Don’t like to think of them at all.” I inch inside the door, waiting for the carpet to suddenly combust. That’s what happens when the devil enters a room, right?

  Kepler shakes his head and turns that observant gaze to the window. His shoulders tense under his hoodie as he slides the window open. A breeze plays past him, and I lift my chin to the cool air. So much better than soft kisses.

  He throws a foot over the ledge. I scoot forward and see him step on a section of roof a few feet below. He careens out the window, knocking down a lamp and photo-perfect family memories in the process.

  I snicker at him. “You look like a giraffe. On ice skates.”

  The wind picks up his dark-blond hair as he squats and glares at me through the opening. “Well, then, let’s see how adept you are at climbing out windows.”

  I place one foot on the roof and pull myself out using the sill. A benefit of the cute and small thing. Also not my first window escape.

  “So, she has some window deftness.” Kepler slides to a seat on the shingles. He stretches long legs in front of him and cocks an eyebrow at me as if he expects me to sit next to him.

  Yeah, not taking that eyebrow invitation. I walk to the edge, not stopping until my toes hang over the gutter. The lawn slopes away from the house, making the roof higher than I thought it would be. An aspen tree shoots up on one side, and a huge blue spruce squats on the other. The mountains roll up in blacks and grays to a star-stacked night sky like we’re trapped in a freaking Bob Ross painting.

  I turn back and find Kepler watching me from deep in the shadows. “This better be an entertaining theory.” My breath ghosts with white. I’ll be shivering in a few minutes.

  “Don’t you want to take
a moment to enjoy the evening?” He reaches into his t-shirt pocket and pulls out a baggie and a little stack of rolling papers. Hair tumbles across his forehead as he rolls a joint. Deftly—like he’s done it hundreds of times.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he smoked. But it seems misplaced for some reason. He was the valedictorian of his high school class. The guy who set the curves and was supposed to go off to some East Coast college instead of languishing in small-town Colorado where the most popular majors are business and forestry. Every one of his huge textbooks is three times as thick as mine.

  I thought he was still that focused guy. Although I’ve hardly spoken to him since he graduated four years ago. Maybe he’s someone else now. The years aren’t kind to anyone who sticks in this town.

  He finishes rolling the joint and traps it between his lips. “Is it necessary for you to remain that close to the edge?”

  “Yes.” I glance at the lawn far below, hiding a smile. Kepler is scared of heights.

  He pushes himself up, inches across the roof, and lowers himself a foot from the edge. He glances down at the trimmed lawn and sucks in a breath, making the joint tremble.

  His nervousness amuses me. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  “I just don’t care for things that can kill me.” He raises an eyebrow and extends the joint.

  I can’t stop myself from laughing. Somehow, Kepler takes me away from the girl I was with Ty and presses me back into the one I used to be eight years ago when I first met him. I’m not sure how he manages to do it. One of those magic tricks, I guess.

  I don’t take the offered joint, but I do take a seat, a safe five inches of personal space between us.

  He flicks on the flame and inhales. Smoke curls out of his mouth and dissipates into the night. The fire flickers again, lighting up cheekbones and a straight nose and tangles of hair against his forehead. Damn—this is what happens when I dispatch a boring boyfriend like Ty. I’m looking at Kepler Quinn like he might be number thirty-nine.

  The wind kicks up and blows his smoke towards me. It's sweet and savory and spicy—not like weed. The smell reminds me of the omija tea my father used to make that tasted like a hundred different flavors all mixed together. Lavender dipped in honey.

  I can’t remember the last time I shared a stretch of silence with a guy. In the light of the non-plastic stars everything seems… I search for a word. Good or okay is so not the right word. Perhaps tolerable.

  Then Kepler opens his fucking mouth. “It’s been a while since I saw you backed up against a wall like that,” he says—all offhand and casual. He always talks like nothing touches him.

  “Thanks for noticing.” Tension licks across my shoulders in record time. Maybe I should have taken a hit from that joint. Or just told him to fuck off.

  “I just meant it was one of your tamer breakups. Don’t you agree?” He clicks on his lighter and takes another slow drag. I’m never sure what Kepler is asking me. A thousand other questions lace under the one he asked, and he might understand my answers better than I do. Hence the avoidance.

  “You looked bored,” he continues, and I feel like he’s trying to needle something out of me.

  I give him my evilest glare. “Are you critiquing my breakup?”

  His eyes light up as if this is an opportunity he’s been waiting for all night. “I’d be more than happy to offer an opinion on the subject. Although I’m just an amateur.” He leans towards me like I’m a fucking bug he’s studying. “Care to instruct me, Lo?”

  The low tones in his voice run fingertips up and down my spine. I hate how his voice sinks into that steamroller. He’s playing me. I thought I’d become immune to the way a guy’s voice can run chills up my spine.

  He takes another hit and the smoke creates a faint screen between us. “Do you want to hear my hypothesis?”

  “No.” I swing my legs.

  He shrugs. “I’ll keep it to myself, then.”

  One of my sandals almost slips off, and I reach down to pull it onto my foot. Oh, hell. “What’s your hypothesis?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Actually, the correct term is theory, but I’m not feeling the need for correctness tonight.” He rubs a hand over his neck and looks up towards the sky. “My hypothesis is you don’t like dating guys.”

  I snort out a laugh. “I thought you had something serious to say.”

  “I do.” He shifts close—deep into my five-inch bubble of personal space. “You don’t like dating them. You like getting rid of them.” He leans back to take a drag and blows the smoke away from me. “When you date a guy, what is it that draws you to him? His sparkling personality? His awesome ride?”

  “I’m not talking about this with you. Ever.” I squint to try and read his expression. But he turns away, as if trying to fall back into the shadows.

  “Really, Lo. What do you think about? What do you imagine? Fucking him?”

  I grip the edge of the shingles and press my palms into the rough surface. “I’m not talking about this with you.” But I already know he’ll keep talking. He always does.

  “You don’t like dating,” he pronounces. “The look on your face never gets past boredom. I think what really pulls you in is breaking up with them.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “It’s not fucking true.” It’s not. He thinks I only like the breakups? What kind of girl would be into that? “Your hypothesis is—”

  “Kepler!” We both jump at the far-off call. Blondie strolls through the backyard.

  He presses a finger to his lips.

  He’s not fucking serious.

  “Isn’t that your date?” I ask, normal volume and latching onto the subject change. “The girl you wanted to ‘conquest’ on the hallway table?”

  “Quiet.” He hunches.

  She stands in a stretch of light across the yard and calls his name again. If she looks up, she’ll see our dangling legs. She calls his name again before disappearing into the house. He exhales.

  “Shib-seh-ggi.” As soon as the Korean is out of my mouth, I regret it. I don’t know if I said it because of the whole you like breaking up with guys conversation or if it’s about his date avoidance.

  He flicks his lighter on and off. “Your dad used to call me that when I did something idiotic. I’ve always wondered what it means.”

  “It means you’re a piece of shit.” Even I flinch at the harshness in my words. Every normal person in the world would lean away from me after a comment like that, but Kepler leans forward. My father always said that phrase with a laugh, but I can’t even get my lips to curl up right now.

  “Shib-he-ge?” he repeats in the most horrid Korean ever. Finally something he’s not good at. “That’s what you think of me? Anything else?”

  I pause, floundering. He always makes me feel this way. It’s like he’s stolen all the good words. He tilts his head, his eyes playing over my face, his lips in a familiar grim line.

  He never smiles. Never. Not a smirk. Not a grimace. It’s like life has stolen something from him.

  “You’re not you,” I say. “Not anymore. It’s like you lost yourself somewhere.”

  He stares at me with this dark expression. Something honest that only exists in the heat of a good breakup. The realness strikes a tremor deep inside of me. And from Kepler of all fucking people. I shouldn’t have said that, but like always, the words always fall before I can stop them.

  “An interesting observation,” he says between the warbles of a far-off owl. His voice is low, steady, and his eyes narrow to their usual position. Good. I don’t want to see snippets of the real Kepler behind his armor. It’s easier to pretend like I don’t see him at all.

  He licks his fingertips and presses out the end of the joint. “Do you feel better about yourself now? That was a much better breakup than the one in the hallway.”

  I sigh. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”

  Was it?<
br />
  He leans forward. “Nature is based on two opposing forces, and you, Lo, are—”

  “Kepler?” His name, sweet and nasally, comes from Ty’s open window. The lights click on in Ty’s room. Kepler, like any good ass-wipe, stills.

  There is no way I’m going to let this opportunity slide by.

  “Out here!” I call, brightly.

  His glare could encase me in ice. As Blondie leans over the windowsill, he doesn’t even glance at her.

  “What are you doing out here?” Her gaze settles on me, and I flash her a ceramic smile.

  “We were just debating human duality,” he says.

  “Oh, well, we were supposed to leave an hour ago,” Blondie says in that gently chiding tone I’ve never learned to master. She’d be a good match for Ty.

  “Leave whenever you want.” He finally glances towards her.

  Blondie’s face falls. I wait for her to spit back at him, but she chomps on her lip.

  “You’re being an ass,” I say for her.

  “She doesn’t need you to mediate,” he says. “Right, Irene?”

  Her gaze swings between us. Huge blue eyes and a bottom lip that will be trembling soon. It tugs at my damn heart strings. Thought I took the scissors to those a long time ago.

  I get to my feet and extricate myself from the space between them, which is what I should have done the second she stuck her blond head out the window. I find my way to the other side of the roof. No trellis or thick tree branches to Romeo my way down. Only thin aspen spindles and a hell of a long drop.

  “What’s going on here?” she asks.

  I want to cheer for her because there’s at least a little fire in her voice. But it’s more like an ember than a flame. This is his type of girl?

  He doesn’t move from the edge of the roof. “I’m having a conversation with a friend.”

  I can’t hold in the little scoffing laugh that comes out at friend. Another stupid word choice on his part.

  I don’t know if they glance at me. I keep my eyes on the gutter, considering alternatives to my current best plan of jumping two stories and suffering from a broken bone or three.