by Eva Ashwood
Because it’s all a fucking lie.
As if to prove my point, his angular features harden into a mask again. Then he presses away from the wall, walking forcefully toward me and getting right up in my face.
“Did you know about this?”
I stand my ground, tilting my head to look up at him since we’re standing so close together. “Know about what?”
“About my mom and your dad, you idiot.”
“Of course I didn’t know about this.”
“Why am I supposed to believe you?”
“Why are you supposed to not believe me?” My voice is rising into a shriek, but I can’t help it. A headache is starting to throb behind my eyes, and I just want to get out of here.
“Because obviously you’ve lied to me in the past, and I’m pretty sure that you’re going to do it again.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” I blurt in disbelief.
“You’re fucking lying to me right now.”
Trent’s eyes narrow as he grabs my shoulders, pushing me into the wall. He’s blocking my way, filling every molecule of the space around me with his dominating presence, boxing me in. I push against his hold on my shoulders, but he’s stronger than I am, and this time, he’s not fucking around.
This isn’t a joke or a taunt. He’s seriously pissed, and I don’t know what he’ll do to me.
My heart pounds hard in my chest, rattling my rib cage.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I gasp, breathing hard as Trent extends his hands on either side of me, literally caging me against the wall and blocking my way.
“No? No idea?” He shakes his head, practically vibrating with fury. “You were the one who told my dad about it after we saw them kissing. You were the one who sold my mom out, made Dad turn on her. So why the fuck would I believe anything you say?”
I blink at him, my mind freezing up, momentarily struck dumb by shock.
“Th-that’s what you hated me for? That’s why you bullied me?” I croak.
Numbness is creeping up my arms and legs. I can’t even process this. For the past two years, I’ve been convinced the hell they put me through in high school was because I rejected their advances.
But I was wrong. It was for this. Something I didn’t even do.
My question only seems to piss him off even more. He moves in closer to me, bringing our faces almost nose-to-nose. “Don’t act so surprised, you little liar. What did you expect, for me to send you a goddamn thank you card?”
“I never told your dad anything!”
Now it’s his turn to freeze. His body grows utterly still, like a snake about to strike. Then he shakes his head, the movement slow and almost hypnotic. “You’re such a liar. It was only me and you there, remember? We’re the only ones that saw. And I sure as fuck didn’t tell him.”
Memories of that day come rushing back. It was the same day Trent asked me out, the same day I turned him down. We caught our parents kissing, although they had no idea what we’d seen. But I promised Trent I would never say anything, and I thought—I thought he believed me.
All this time, I thought he hated me for one thing, when his hatred was born of something else entirely. Something I know I’m entirely innocent of.
“Trent,” I repeat, my voice gaining strength as adrenaline floods my veins. “I didn’t. Tell him. Anything.”
He shakes his head, opening his mouth to call me a liar again, probably. But I just keep going, my voice softening a little as I say, “Why didn’t you come to me then? Why didn’t you ask me?”
He exhales a sharp breath, and I feel the heat of it on my skin. “Like you would’ve told me the truth? Come on. You’ve already proved you can lie with the best of them.”
“I’m not—”
“Emma! There was no one else there. Who the fuck else could it have been?”
His harsh voice cuts me off, and I blink up at him for a few seconds. Then I shake my head, keeping my gaze locked on his.
“I don’t know. But it wasn’t me. And if you had talked to me about it, if you’d trusted me like you always said you did, maybe we could’ve found out together. But instead, you just decided you knew. And then you tried to fucking break me.”
Trent stills.
His chest stops rising and falling with the deep breaths he was dragging in, and I flick my gaze down to the pulse in his neck, convinced for a wild second that even his heart has stopped.
“I did know. I do.”
His voice sounds different somehow, and I can’t tell what’s changed. It’s not like he’s suddenly decided to believe me. He didn’t even give me a chance to defend myself in high school, and he’s held onto this mistaken belief that I betrayed him for so long, I don’t know if there’s anything I could ever say or do to convince him otherwise.
He doesn’t say anything else for a long time. He just stares at me. Stares and stares, as if the truth is written on my skin, branded on my body somewhere, and if he just looks close enough, he’ll be able to see it.
I look back at him too strung out, shocked, and emotionally wrecked to do anything else. I feel like I have whiplash, and I can’t quite get my bearings back.
Our bodies are incredibly close, and as the silence settles between us, I become intensely aware of what the proximity is doing to me. My knees feel weak, like they did the first time I saw Trent at Clearwater U.
Fuck, Emma, stop!
Why is this happening? Why am I so attracted to a man who’s been hell bent on destroying my life?
Trent’s chest begins to move again, and his nostrils flare as he draws in a breath through his nose. A look of longing on his face dissolves into hatred before shifting back to longing again.
How can this even be possible?
He presses his chest against mine and brings his mouth dangerously close. We’re breathing each other’s air, infecting each other with the disease that’s killing us both. His breath warms my lips, making a small noise rise in my throat.
“You’re a good fucking liar, Emma,” he rasps, his voice raw with pain and anger… and something else. “You make me want to believe the lie.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he’s looking down at my lips like they’re the most fascinating things in the world.
“Trent…”
His name is barely more than a whisper, and I have no follow-up. Nothing to say. I don’t know who the fuck I am, who he is, or what to do with the feelings taking over my body.
“Lie to me again, Ems. Tell me how much you want me.”
“Please, let me go,” I whisper, but his arms are still locking me in on either side, and he doesn’t budge.
“Your eyes, your lips, even your body—they all lie. I can feel how much you want this, but that’s just an illusion too, isn’t it? Just like everything else about you.”
Trent almost seems to be talking to himself as he brings one hand down my side and grabs onto my hip. His gaze travels down my body in much the same way he was looking at my lips.
Like he wants to devour me.
To eat me alive, bones and all.
But I’m no longer trapped. The movement has given me an opening, and since one side has been cleared of Trent’s arm, I quickly slip away and start running down the hall.
Trent doesn’t chase after me, and he doesn’t laugh like I’d expect him to. When I reach the end of the hall, out of breath, I turn and look back at him, and there’s an anguished expression on his face, as though he’s bereft or something. I turn once more and head back toward the table on legs that feel like vibrating piano wires, my heart beating out of control in my chest.
As I approach the table, I see that my dad and Claire are still sitting there, a chocolate lava cake sitting untouched in front of them. When they look up me, twin expressions of concern cross their faces.
“I sent Trent to go and apologize,” Claire says.
Dad leans forward a little. “Are you okay, Ems?”
I’m
too shaken up to even respond to them. Instead, I sit in the booth and look down to find a small dish of slowly melting vanilla ice cream on the table in front of me. At this point, I can’t even guess if it was meant as a peace offering from Trent or another barb, but it makes my heart hurt either way.
Dammit. I will not cry again, I will not cry again, I will not cry again.
Out of sheer strength and will, I paint a smile on my face and look up at Dad. “Everything’s okay. He apologized.”
12
Trent
Liar. Liar. Liar.
I’m literally seething right now. And not only that, my chest is heaving because I’m totally out of breath. I’m angry as fuck at Emma for denying what she did and running away yet again, and I’m also pissed at myself.
How is it that I can still want her so badly after everything that she’s done?
And for her to play so innocent when I know she’s the one who tore my family apart makes it all the more infuriating. Why is she still lying about it? If she did it to hurt me, why hasn’t she stood up to claim responsibility? Why the fuck does part of me want to believe her lie?
When I look into her eyes, all I see is a fake innocence that makes me want to tear her apart looking for the truth underneath. And then this incredible attraction comes over me, like something bubbling up through the hatred. I go back and forth like a madman between hating her and desiring her.
As I stand in the dark hallway watching her run away, I shift uncomfortably. Thanks to our little encounter, I have a massive hard-on. Should I go jerk off in the bathroom?
Absolutely not. That would only be adding insult to injury.
Instead, I go into the men’s room to splash some cold water on my face and think of other things. I’m not going to go into that stall and rub one out like a teenager, and I’m also not going to walk back to that table with my hands in my pockets. I’m just going to have to let this one pass.
There’s a weird emptiness in my chest that I don’t know how to describe. Goddammit, I wanted her so badly just now. My lips came so close to hers, and I told her to tell me she wanted me, because I could feel viscerally that she did. Then, in pure Emma fashion, she ran away from it because she couldn’t handle the intensity. She couldn’t stand the lies, the deceit, and the deep fucking need. So she ran.
But she didn’t run far enough.
I need her out. I need her gone. I need her to stop fucking up my head with doubts and questions about what I’ve known for so long.
Leaning my hands on the countertop by the sink, I let my head drop. I’m grateful as fuck there are no other guys in here because I’m still rock hard. My thoughts turn to my mom and Paul, and that hard-on is gone within seconds. I want my mother to be happy. I seriously do. But how am I going to get through her dating the man she cheated on my dad with? The man who, along with his lying temptress of a daughter, destroyed my parents’ marriage?
It occurs to me that I could just start avoiding Emma. I could give up on the fight, leave her alone, and move on with my life. But the thought of that makes something in my stomach turn ice cold. I need more than that.
I need her to be sorry. Whether it’s actual remorse for what she did or just regret because the consequences that fall on her are so dire, I want her to be sorry she sent that anonymous note to my dad.
Checking my phone, I realize it’s already almost 9:30 p.m. We’ve been at Louie’s for a long time, and a lot of shit has gone down. My hard-on is totally gone at this point, so I wash my hands and exit the bathroom to head back down the long hall. It occurs to me that I’m gonna need my boys tonight because there’s a lot of shit to discuss, so I text Reese and West at the same time, telling them to meet me back at the house. Then I stop in the hallway for one last moment to compose myself, because I know Emma and her dad are still sitting at that table.
I come around the corner, and sure enough, there she is with an empty bowl in front of her. I guess she ate the ice cream, after all. It used to be her favorite thing in high school, and I hate that I fucking remember that, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. The guys and I used to love taking her out for dessert. She got this look of pure bliss on her face when she ate something sweet, and it made my heart and my dick both ache.
My mom is drinking a coffee, and Paul casually has his arm draped over the back of the booth so that it’s practically around her. My jaw clenches. I guess this is the kind of shit I’m gonna have to get used to.
“Hey,” I say, sliding back into the booth at my mom’s side.
“Everything alright?” Mom asks, her tone cool. I know she’s pissed as fuck at me, and I get why.
“Yeah, fine.”
“I hear you guys settled everything,” Paul says, staring at me with narrowed eyes.
“Sure.” I nod once and glance across the table at Emma, who refuses to make eye contact with me. “All settled.”
Paul asks for the bill, and I just sit there looking at her, willing her to look up at me, but Emma refuses. Is it the guilt that makes her look away like that? Is it because she still feels the insane desire that flared between us back in the hall? The memory of it threatens to make my dick hard again, so I focus on blocking those thoughts from my mind.
“How was the lava cake?” I ask Mom.
“Oh, it was good.” She softens a little, seemingly relieved that I’m talking about a neutral topic.
The bill arrives, and Paul throws down his credit card. Jesus, I can’t imagine how much this shit show must have cost him. We gather our things and head to the door, and I watch as Paul puts his hand on the small of my mom’s back. Even that small gesture stirs the anger still churning inside me, so I look away.
Emma is still staring at the ground like she’s consumed with guilt, which she has every reason to be. And not to be crass, but I know she’s wet. My dick got hard back in that hallway, and Emma got wet.
For me.
I’m positive if I dragged her back into that dark corridor and did what I insanely contemplated doing before, if I slid my hand up her dress and cupped her sweet pussy, I’d find her panties soaked for me.
Breathe, goddammit. Breathe.
I wrench my attention away from the pretty little liar, adjusting my hardening dick subtly as we reach the cars parked half a block away.
“Well, this has been a nice evening,” Paul says in a forced sort of way.
“It has been… interesting.” Mom shares a look with him and then glares at me, disappointment radiating from her.
The dark-haired man chuckles, sounding tired. “That it has.”
He gives my mom a kiss on the cheek and holds out his hand for me to shake it, which I do. Very firmly. Then Emma and I finally look at one another, and neither of us says a thing.
“Okay.” Paul shakes his head, leading Emma toward their car.
“Okay,” Mom echoes with a sigh.
So, that’s the end of the fucked up evening, and I’m almost sad it’s done.
There was so much that could’ve happened in that hallway, and even though it all would’ve been a mistake, I can’t help playing alternate versions in my head as I drive back to campus. I’m sure Mom will call me with an earful later, and I know I fucking deserve it. But if she knew the whole story, she’d know I’m doing this for her, to try to keep manipulative, dangerous people out of her life.
I shower as soon as I get back to the house the guys and I share, my dick painfully hard again as thoughts of Emma keep seeping into my brain. I jerk off just to purge my mind and my thoughts of her, and it helps… a little.
By the time the guys get home, I’m in full-on battle mode. Emma needs to go down, or she needs to end up in my bed. Actually, I’d prefer for both of those things to happen, but I can only tell the guys about the destruction part of the plan. That’s the only part that makes any logical sense.
Reese shows up wearing a hat pulled low over his eyes, and West is wearing all black. It’s like we’re a gang or something
, which I guess we essentially are.
We crack open a few beers and settle onto the couch and chairs arranged around the TV in the living room.
I take a long drag from my beer, letting the cool liquid soothe my throat before I glance at my friends. “My mom and Paul Holloway are dating now.”
“What the fuck? Are you kidding me?” Reese’s brows shoot up.
“I am not.”
“Damn. This is fucked up.” West grunts, shaking his head.
“Tell me about it. We all had dinner together, and it was a total disaster.”
“Emma was there?” Reese asks.
“Yes, she was there. With that same guilty fucking expression on her face.”
“What did you say to her?” West flicks his gaze in my direction.
“Well, I ruffled her up a bit, so she ran to the bathroom. I ran after her and pinned her in the hallway, trying to get her to confess. She wouldn’t do it.”
I don’t dare tell the guys about the other aspect of this. How I pinned her against the wall and we almost kissed. That part of the story, I keep to myself for obvious reasons. Mostly because she turned me down, yet again. And despite everything, it fucking hurt, yet again.
“Dude, what is wrong with her?” Reese shakes his head, a disbelieving look on his face.
“She’s a fucking liar, that’s what’s wrong with her. And she’s ashamed of what she’s done. It’s time to take things to the next level. Ever since she got here, we’ve been too easy on her.”
“How do we take it to the next level?” Reese asks.
“Well, I’ve been analyzing this,” I say, leaning forward. My stomach churns with a momentary surge of guilt, but I force it away. If Emma felt guilty for what she did, maybe I would too. But she started this game. “We haven’t fucked her up yet because she doesn’t trust us. Her walls are too strong. In high school, we seriously fucked her up because she was our friend. She was vulnerable to us. Now, what we have to do is get her to open up to us again so we can finally bring her down.”