Half-Truths: New York Times Bestselling Author

by Contreras, Claire

  “So, it’s safe to say you don’t have a boyfriend?” He started walking toward his bedroom. I followed.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I repeated because obviously, he needed to hear this.

  “So, if we take a selfie in bed together and you post it on Instagram, nobody is going to try to kick my ass?”

  “I like that you said try to kick your ass as if he couldn’t.” I laughed as I kicked my shoes and socks off. “You’re sure you’ll win that fight?”

  “Positive.”

  “What makes you so positive?” I pulled the sheets back and climbed into one side of the bed.

  I was wearing jeans and an oversized gray cable knit sweater. Not the most comfortable thing to sleep in, but also not the most uncomfortable, and I wasn’t about to take off my jeans. Logan had black sweatpants and a black t-shirt on. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the other side of the bed.

  “Your bed is so comfortable.” I closed my eyes with a sigh. “Are you going to set the alarm?”

  “Yes, master.”

  I smiled, eyes still closed. I knew I was going to fall asleep in under five minutes. As I turned over and got even more comfortable, bringing my knees up to my chest, I remembered I’d asked him a question and he’d never answered.

  “Hey, Logan.”

  “Hm.” He sounded like he was on the verge of falling asleep too.

  “You never answered. What makes you so sure you’ll win the fight against the boyfriend you think I have?”

  “Because, Mae.” He yawned. “I’d be fighting for you.”

  My eyes shot open. I glanced over my shoulder, but his eyes were shut and his face looked peaceful. Had he really just said that?

  Chapter Nineteen

  When I woke up, Logan was already out of bed. Music was playing in the en suite bathroom, but I couldn’t make it out because it was too low. As I sat up and pushed the sheets away, I stretched and yawned. I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, but I definitely felt like I’d gotten my energy back. My head whipped in the direction of the en suite bathroom door when it opened and I saw a shirtless Logan walking out. The black sweatpants he wore hung low on his hips, covering half of the V that disappeared into them. There was absolutely no denying Logan worked on his fitness. A lot. I glanced away quickly, too quickly. Too obvious.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” I continued stretching my arms, unable to look back at him. It felt weird knowing I’d slept beside that specimen and didn’t do anything but. I stood. “I, um, should go. I have to do a few things before I head to the rink.”

  “See you later.”

  I smiled, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and walked out of the room in a daze. “Thanks again,” I called out.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Amelia,” he said, picking up a shirt and pulling it over his head. “You look like you got more rest in one hour than you have since I saw you at your parent’s house.”

  “It was dark.”

  “What?”

  “When you saw me at their house. It was dark.”

  “When you saw me it was dark,” he said. “I was there the entire time.”

  I stared at him for a beat. From his expression, I could tell if I asked questions, he’d answer, but I had no questions. Not about that and not for him. He’d already told me to stay away from the cloaks, which meant he wasn’t one of them. Otherwise, he’d known what they did. He may have even been there. I blinked away from him and waved as I rushed down the hall to my own apartment, shivering as I thought about him being there. I couldn’t fathom a situation in which he would’ve been there to lock me in a dark room and then gone and invited me to sleep in his bed because he knew how tired I was. I needed to stop before I continued to drive myself crazy.

  * * *

  I was still looking over my shoulder when I arrived at the rink. I’d pocketed the ominous little black card sent to me and the one I found that had my brother’s name on it. At the very least, I’d show up and find out why they were so adamant about me going. Maybe they wanted to give me answers. I pulled open the door of the rink and walked inside, following the music that was playing. As I approached the ice, the Foo Fighters got louder, and I saw that the team had already started doing drills.

  When I was little, I used to go to all of Lincoln’s practices and games, mostly because we had the same nanny and Mom dropped the three of us off together. As I got older and started getting interested in dance and swimming, it was his turn to get dropped off with me. And of course, once we reached a certain age, we stopped attending each other’s practices. I still went to his games though. Dad used to joke that when he was little, soccer was the only thing he knew, the only equipment you needed were legs and a ball, but his kids decided to play a sport with a stick and a ton of equipment.

  The Mighty Ducks were all the rage when we were little, so of course, my brother wanted to play. Hell, I wanted to play, but no one would hear of it. They wanted me to remain unscathed and unblemished—a little porcelain doll to place on a shelf. I put my hand on the glass and looked across, scouting what angle I could take good pictures from. It wasn’t like the coaches were going to let me go on the ice with them for some pictures for the school paper. I spotted an opening at the player’s bench, and headed in that direction, listening to the way they shaved the ice each time they came to a stop.

  Once there, I took my camera out and started snapping pictures. In my lens, I could see Logan and Nolan skating side by side. All of the players had the same rhythm, the same momentum, as if this was a synchronized dance they could do in their sleep. When the music switched up, they started different power skating drills, working on their edges and speed. The level of skills was high pace and amazing to watch. If they did this instead of play actual games, I would probably be just as entertained. The song was almost over when the coaches came out onto the ice and they all huddled around as they were talking.

  I snapped pictures as they huddled together, blocked shots, and threw each other into the boards. When I felt like I had enough images, I just sat and watched them practice. I glanced at my watch, realizing that if I wanted to go to the library to look at the newspaper archives, I would need to leave soon. I couldn’t make myself get up though. I was too enthralled in the music and the way they moved out there. Before I knew it, the practice was over. The music stopped, the guys and coaches got off the ice, and I was left by myself in the desolate rink. I googled to see if I could walk to campus from here, and upon finding out it would take me way too long, I decided on an Uber. I stood, grabbed my things, and started walking out.

  “Did you get any good pictures of me?”

  I jumped up, dropping my phone and everything else in my hands as I turned around to find Nolan standing behind me. My hand flew to my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “You shouldn’t be staring at your phone when you’re walking alone.” He raised an eyebrow. He was no longer in his gear, but wearing a t-shirt and sweats. His hair was wet, with what I assumed was sweat. He kneeled down and gathered my things for me, handing them back. His eyes zoned in on the cards from the secret society that I’d tucked into the little pocket behind my cell phone, but he didn’t comment as I took them from his hand. “Did you take any good pictures?”

  “I think so. I hope you’re not offended by this, but after a while, I couldn’t tell you guys apart out there. Most of you have the long Viking hair thing going.”

  “Impossible.” He chuckled. “I’m always the hottest.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re that confident in yourself.”

  “I don’t like how unimpressed you are with me.”

  I laughed. He didn’t. “You’re serious.”

  “I am serious.” He frowned. “Normally, girls are totally all over me by now. You like Fitz? Is that it?”

  “What? No,” I answered quickly, wondering if Logan had said anything to him. “Why would you think that?”

&
nbsp; “You left the party together the other night.”

  “Are you spying on me?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or Logan?”

  “Logan.” He smiled, saying the name as if it was foreign. “I bet he likes that you don’t call him Fitz like the other ones.”

  “You mean his harem?”

  “Sure.” Nolan chuckled, then winked. “Nolan and Logan sound similar, if you want to try me out instead. I won’t be mad if you get our names mixed up when we’re fucking, you know.”

  “Oh my God. Seriously?” I balked. “Is it so crazy to believe that I don’t want either of you?”

  “You mean after the test run?”

  “I meant before the test run.” I laughed at the confusion on his face. Obviously, he wasn’t used to being turned down.

  “Your loss then.” He ran a hand through his long hair with a shrug.

  It slicked back with his sweat. My nose scrunched. Some women loved sweaty athletes, but I’d guess they hadn’t grown up with the stench of dirty hockey gear or dated a messy college basketball player.

  “I thought you didn’t like hockey.” He nodded at the hat on my head. I’d worn it because my hair was a mess after my nap and I didn’t want to bother trying to fix it.

  “I don’t, but The Mighty Ducks is iconic.”

  “Our practice was also iconic,” he said. “You stayed for the entire thing. Usually, people come, snap a pic or two and leave.”

  “It was entertaining.”

  “We aim to please.” He winked.

  I couldn’t help myself, I smiled, shaking my head. He was such a flirt. Between him and Logan, there was no way a girl stood a chance. My phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced at it.

  “Shit. I have to go. My Uber’s waiting. Good seeing you, Nolan.”

  “You too, Mae,” he called out as I turned around and started walking. “We can hang out outside of bed too, you know. Unlike Fitz, I’m not opposed to having real friends that I don’t hook up with.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I called out.

  I thought about it the entire way to the library. Logan didn’t have friends that he didn’t hook up with? What did that even mean?

  Chapter Twenty

  There was a chill in the air as I walked to the library that had less to do with the weather than it did with my mood. I wasn’t sure if it was the tower chimes, and how eerie what they were playing tonight was, or the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about whatever meeting may be going on in there at the moment. Maybe it was that I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about whether or not the black cloaks were still following me. They’d left me that note saying they were watching me and I fully expected one of them to pop out in the middle of the night. The wind picked up with a hum, and I held my coat closed tighter, lowering my head to fight against it.

  When I finally got into the library, I exhaled a shaky, cold, breath and walked to the back, where there were tables set up everywhere and I felt like I had my own little work space. I sent the pictures I’d taken on the camera to my phone, and emailed them straight to Ella Valentine. She’d been kind enough to let me take all of those days off and Max had been awesome and taken pictures of the football team’s first home game while I’d been away. Sending these pictures was probably not a big deal to Ella, but I definitely felt good about completing another assignment.

  Slinging my bag on the table, I set it down softly and opened it to pull out Lana’s laptop. I’d switched it out with my brother’s after still finding nothing of interest in his. I spent fifteen minutes opening folder after folder on Lana’s laptop and not finding anything, until I saw a folder labeled: PERSONAL SHIT and inside of that, another folder labeled: PORN. I hesitated. I didn’t want to see Lana’s personal videos, especially if she was having sex in them, but it could just be regular porn. Either way, I clicked the file. Instead of videos, what I saw were word documents titled by date.

  April 1st—

  By the time I got to the Gorges and knocked on the door, it was 12:05 am. He greeted me with a smile and told me I was late. Tardiness was unacceptable. I told him I’d make it worth his while. I’d never spoken to anyone that boldly before, and I definitely never imagined speaking to him like that, but once the words left my mouth and I saw darkness encompass his gaze, I knew I had him. He’d asked me to bring a friend, and I couldn’t. That was another thing I’d have to apologize for, or pay for, depending on how you looked at it. The next day, I had welts on my backside and a soreness I’d never felt between my legs, but I’d never felt more alive.

  It ended there. My jaw dropped. She’d been right to label it porn. Who had she been with though? There were files dated from April through May. She’d disappeared sometime in May. I checked the date of the last file. May 23. I Googled Lana Ly to verify when in May she’d disappeared and caught my breath when all of the searches with her picture came up. Missing girl: Lana Ly. Another missing student. Kidnapping victim or runaway? My eyes were riveted on that word: another. I clicked on one article, then another, until I ended up on a Reddit message board about the missing students. According to Reddit, which I knew to only take with a grain of salt, girls had started going missing on campus since 1902. One of the users said the reason it wasn’t made a bigger deal was because a lot of the girls came back, claiming they’d just run away for a little while. Some people on the message board suspected a serial killer in the area. Others argued that was stupid because if that was the case, the cops would be vigilant and on it. The serial killer topic caused an argument between people that went on for forty pages.

  I bookmarked the page and decided I would go back to it after reading legitimate articles about the students who disappeared. Most were girls, but there were a few boys too. It was odd—the last three had been from prestigious families, families you would never think would lose a child and call it quits on their search. I remembered seeing them on the news at one point or another and pausing to offer a small prayer, the only thing I could think to do in a situation like that. One of them had been gone five years and still hadn’t been found. My chest squeezed as I thought about Lana in those terms.

  Glancing around the library, my eyes wandered to the window. I jumped in my seat when I caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure staring back at me. I looked at the next window and saw another figure, and the next, and the next. I tore my gaze from the windows to look around the library. Everyone in here was either talking quietly to the people they were with, busy on their laptops, or leafing through pages of whatever book was in front of them. I looked back at the windows again, but they were gone. Just like that. Goosebumps pricked my skin. Were they waiting for me outside? From my peripheral, I saw someone walking toward me and whipped my head in that direction, fully expecting it to be one of them. It was a petite blonde, smiling at me as she approached. I felt my brows furrow slightly. Was she in one of my classes? She dropped a white envelope on the table in front of me.

  “They told me to tell you not to be scared.”

  “Who?” I looked at the envelope and back at her.

  “The cloaks.”

  “They just approached you and gave this envelope to you and asked you to give it to me?” I picked up the envelope, still looking at her.

  “Pretty much.”

  “And you weren’t scared?”

  “Not really. Maybe the first day of freshman orientation, but I’m used to them. Besides, I heard they give their members $50,000 just for joining.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn’t sound half bad.”

  “Right. Let’s all die for $50,000.” I tore open the envelope in my hand and looked back at her briefly. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” She stayed put. I shot her a can you get out of here look, but she remained.

  “Did they also tell you to watch me as I read this?”

  “No, but I’m curious to know if you’re going to be one of them. Or are. And like, which society is it? Quill?”

  I blinked. She was seriously not going to leave until she go
t an answer and what was I supposed to say? I didn’t know their names. I didn’t know whether or not I was officially one of them yet. I didn’t know what they looked like. I literally knew as much as she did. I shook my head after a moment.

  “Honestly? They’re trying to play a prank on me. I don’t know their names, who they are, what they look like, what they do, so your guess is as good as mine.” I shrugged. “It’s probably Quill though.”

  “Oh. Well, they publish their member’s names in the paper, so the cloaks and secretiveness is kind of overkill.” She frowned, looking at the envelope. I nodded my agreement. The cloaks were totally overkill. She hesitated, idling for another beat before shrugging and walking off.

  I exhaled, though I didn’t know why I was relieved that she’d left it alone. It wasn’t like I knew what was in this envelope. I stared at my name written on it. Their calligraphy was really on point. I had to give them credit where credit was due.

  Amelia,

  We trust you have not told anyone where you were last night. For this, you get a point. Two more and you’re in.

  X

  I stared at the black X. It was long, scripted, and looked as if it had been added quickly to the bottom of the page. I re-read the note again. One point. That was what I’d gotten for being locked in a dungeon and not telling anyone about it, which was what a sane person would have done. I put the note back in the envelope and pushed it aside. I went back to Lana’s computer, which was running out of battery, and of course, I’d left my own computer charger back home so I couldn’t do anything about it.

  April 25th—

  He invited me to a dinner party. He’s the kind of man that you just don’t say no to. Sex in the car, while driving? Sure, why not? Dinner with senators and mayors who know damn well I am not his wife, but speak to me with respect, as if I’m supposed to be there? Again, yes. These are things I would have never done before discovering this little club. I mean, these are things I still hesitate doing, but every time I hear his voice now, I cave. When I see his name on my texts, I give in. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d be that girl. He’s my friend’s father, for God’s sake. Which is another story all together. He’s onto us and I don’t know what to do about it. I keep denying it, but I wear my heart on my sleeve so it’s hard. Maybe I’ll stop.