The Lying Hours

by Ney, Sara

  “Sophomore year for about five minutes,” JB answers without expanding on the thought.

  “And you’re a junior?”

  “Yeah.”

  Riveting.

  “What about you, Abe?” Hannah gives her attention to him, batting her eyelashes. “What year are you?”

  “Junior.”

  “Have you ever been the captain of the wrestling team?”

  “No. I’ve never had the honor.”

  “What else do you do besides wrestle? Are you a party boy? Do you go out a lot?” Hannah asks the questions rapid-fire, sucking through the straw of her soda.

  “I study a lot—I don’t make time to go out. I haven’t been to a party in months.” He shoots a gaze in my direction. “I, uh, like to cook.”

  This interests my roommate, and she leans in. “Oh? What’s your favorite?”

  “Italian food.”

  “The nerd makes his own pasta.” JB laughs, seizing the opportunity to chug down his liquor.

  Hannah gives him her murder face. “It’s not nerdy to make your own noodles.” She’s biting her tongue; I know she wants to tack on an insult to the end of her sentence, but for once, she doesn’t. “It’s nice. More guys should have a life skill instead of just being pretty.”

  Jack’s nostrils flare. “Did you just call me pretty?”

  Hannah snorts. Then shrugs. “Get over yourself.”

  Oh Jesus.

  “Are you always a salty bi—”

  “Okay! Who wants to order an appetizer?” Abe practically shouts, craning his head for the waitress, who hasn’t reappeared since taking our drink orders. We need drinks. And food. And a referee.

  The restaurant is busy, but not crazy enough that she should be ignoring us.

  Hannah glares across the table at my date, lip curled. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  At this point, I notice a theme unfolding. Abe not only does most of the talking, he’s the voice box for both of them; JB doesn’t seem to have an original thought of his own. He’s a yes man, agreeing with every word coming from his roommate’s gorgeous mouth.

  “Skylar babe.” My roommate slides out of the booth and stands next to the table. “Care to join me in the ladies’ room for a second?”

  Did she just call me babe?

  Still hungry, I look down at my plate, the warm, half-eaten food I’ve been too nervous to actually eat. “Not really?”

  She rolls her eyes, giving me a tight-lipped smile. Grabs a handful of my shirt and tugs. “I need your help.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, With what? but I manage to zip my lips.

  This is the fourth time Hannah has gotten up from the table since we’ve gotten here, once when she went to the bar and twice with JB to find music on the jukebox.

  “Want to tell me why you’re being such a troll?” I hiss as she goes in one stall, me into another. “Can you not behave for five seconds?”

  Unzip my jeans. Squat above the toilet seat and start peeing.

  “That guy is a douche. Why are we wasting our time here?” She huffs a loud, dramatic sigh. “Let’s leave.”

  “We can’t just walk out!”

  I can hear her pants unzipping. “Why?”

  “It’s rude!” I practically shout, voice echoing, bouncing off the tile walls. “We don’t have our purses!”

  “Valid point.”

  “Jack being a dick isn’t good enough reason to bail without saying goodbye.” I hunt for the end of the toilet paper, dipping my head to peer under the dispenser. Find it and wipe. “You’ve called him a dickhead three times.”

  “Because he is a prickhead! I’m being generous.”

  “How kind of you,” I mutter, pulling up my underwear and jeans as I stand, flushing the toilet with the tip of my shoe. Join Hannah by the sinks to wash my hands.

  She’s watching me through the mirror. “Want me to try to give you time with Abe? I’m willing to take one for the team and get that dick back to the bar if you want to be alone with Wrestler McHottie. Did you see his hands? My. God.”

  Yes, I did notice his hands. Large hands. Strong fingers…

  “Why would you do that?”

  Our reflections are an old western showdown. “Duh. He’s into you. JB isn’t.”

  “He isn’t?”

  “No. He is into himself.” She stops drying her hands to turn and stare at me blankly. “Did you hear any of what I just said?”

  Douche. Dick.

  Prickhead.

  That’s a new one; I should stop her before she creates new, more creative insults, but I’m curious to see where she’ll go with this.

  “Yes. You just said JB isn’t into me.”

  Her head shakes. “No, Skylar. I’m talking about the part where I said Abe is into you—the critical part of the storyline. That boy is beautiful and hot, and you’d be an idiot not to go back out there and flirt with him.”

  “Have you forgotten? I am on a date with his roommate right now!” What the hell is wrong with her?

  “So? I’ll distract that sack of crap you’re here with, and you get to know the one who can’t stop staring at you.”

  “Don’t you dare, Hannah—I will kill you.”

  “Please. I agreed to this little farce we’re calling a double date as a favor. Now do yourself a favor—ditch the idiot for the guy who seems to really like you.” She suddenly shifts gears, softening her approach. “Skylar, every time you open your mouth to talk, he smiles.”

  “Shut up, he does not.” Does he?

  “Wanna make a bet?”

  Yes. “Pfft. No!”

  Hannah leans against the counter, which has somehow become completely saturated with water. “I bet you, the next time you talk, the corners of Abe’s mouth turn up like this.” Her lips twitch slightly, curving into a miniscule grin. She taps the corner of her mouth with the tip of her finger to show me how he’ll smile. “Just like this. You’ll see what I mean—all you have to do is speak.”

  I roll my eyes. She’s delirious.

  “You’re so clueless sometimes, Skylar. You could march back out there and announce to the boys that you have your period, and Abe would smile like an idiot. It couldn’t be more obvious that he thinks you’re cute, but he’s not going to make a move—not with dipshit sitting there. Bro code and all that.”

  Would he? Would he have been into me if I’d met him first?

  He would have swiped on me in a heartbeat…

  Or had he just said that to be polite? He seems like the type that knows manners—when and what to say to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

  “Take the bet, Sky. You’ll see what I’m talkin’ about.”

  I shoot her a dark scowl. “I’m not making any more bets with you.”

  This wouldn’t be the first time; Hannah loves making bets. Harmless ones for the most part, to liven things up.

  “Come on.” She nudges me with an elbow then presses her hands together pleadingly. “Take a chance.”

  “All I’ve been doing lately is taking chances, thanks to you. I didn’t want to download that stupid app in the first place, and now look at the mess I’m in!” I ball up the brown paper towel I used to dry my hands and toss it in the trash can. “I’m on a date with a guy who is nothing like he is online. It’s as if he’s not even the same person!”

  Hannah ignores my ranting. “I bet you my car.”

  “Your car?!” Is she insane?

  She rolls her eyes. “I mean you can drive it for a week. You can’t have the damn thing—I’m not insane.”

  Oh.

  Still. Her car is a sweet ride, while mine is a total piece of shit.

  “You know you want to.” She should start a career in sales; she knows how to relentlessly browbeat me into submission. I’m such a chump.

  But I do really like her car…

  “Fine.” I say it like she’s putting me out. “It’s a bet.”

  Hannah literally rubs her hands together. “
Oh, this is gonna be good…”

  Dammit. She’s right.

  Every time I’ve opened my mouth to talk, Abe has smiled. Oh, he hides it well enough; I’ll give him kudos for that, burying his mouth in the collar of his shirt or coughing so no one sees him.

  No one but me.

  And Hannah, the eagle eye out to prove a point.

  But sure enough, there it is again, plastered to his face, making me blush and squirm in my seat, and resent the guy I’m here on a date with.

  JB has done nothing to redeem himself in the time we’ve been sitting at this table, picking at the appetizers we finally ordered.

  If anything, he’s more arrogant and flippant with an audience than he was on our first date.

  “Abe, tell me.” Hannah touches Abe’s forearm, purposely trailing a finger along the firm muscles. “Do you date much? You seem like a great catch, so where are you hiding yourself?”

  Oh brother. She sounds like a forty-year-old woman out on the prowl.

  I try not to groan out loud.

  “Abe date?” JB laughs rudely.

  “He’s on one now, isn’t he?” Hannah volleys back, removing her hand from her date’s arm.

  “Abe here is always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” He claps a huge hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving him a shake that’s slightly aggressive for the circumstances. “Ain’tcha, buddy.”

  Abe’s nostrils flare and he chooses that moment to lift his ice water and chug down a healthy swig, downing half the glass in a single swallow.

  “Wow. You just keep racking up the douche points, don’t you?”

  JB’s brows shoot clear up into his hairline, expression incredulous. “What the hell did I say now?”

  Hannah leans back against the booth, crossing her arms over her pair of amazing boobs. She plucks an imaginary piece of lint off her gray sweater. “You think you’re the only catch at this table? Please.”

  JB’s grin is slow and lazy and directed at my roommate’s cleavage. “Are you talking about yourself?”

  “Um, no—I’m talking about Abe. I bet he could give you a run for your money if your head wasn’t stuck up your own ass.” Hannah straightens in her seat. “You’re the kind of guy who cockblocks his friends, aren’t you? Even if a girl was into Abe, you’re the douchey friend who swoops in and steals her away to be a dick. Aren’t you?”

  I’ve lost count of how many times she’s lobbed out the D word tonight.

  “Okay.” I toss my napkin on the table and rise, shoving my chair out in the process. “I think this has gone on long enough.” I have to get my friend out of here before she grabs a butter knife and stabs my date with it. She’s seething, nearly hissing like a feral cat.

  She either hates JB or wants to bone him, and I can’t figure out which one it is. Sexual tension rises off both of them like steam from a hot bath, and I have no interest in seeing how this little scene is going to play out.

  We’ll be booted from the restaurant first. Once Hannah latches onto an idea, she rolls with it, and right now, she’s homing in on the idea of a verbal altercation with JB.

  It’s time to exit stage right.

  Snatching my purse, I grab her by the back of the shirt, tugging her up. “We’re going.”

  “But I was just getting started.”

  “I know. That’s why we’re leaving.” I snag her purse, too, shooting Abe an apologetic look. “Sorry guys.”

  “Don’t say sorry guys—don’t apologize to that asshole.” Hannah’s chin tilts up. “She won’t be seeing you again. We don’t like you like that.”

  Oh my god.

  I hold in my laugh—barely—and catch Abe’s eyes. They’re boring into me, intense. Dark. Troubled, too, his expression almost unreadable.

  Why is he looking at me like that?

  Is he mad we’re ditching mid-date? I don’t actually consider this ditching, though; it’s more like an emergency evacuation.

  Does he seriously expect me to sit here and let my best friend destroy his roommate with a sharp-witted tongue-lashing? Not going to happen.

  “You don’t like me like that?” JB, on the other hand, couldn’t look more affronted. He’s clearly shocked. “I don’t like you either, babe.”

  Babe?

  I snort, mouth open to retort.

  Hannah beats me to it. “Skylar is too nice to say this to your face, so I’m going to say it for her: you’re nothing like your conversations on the app. Before, you were charming and smart and funny. In person you’re just…such…an…idiot.”

  Okay. That was a bit harsh. I never would have said that…

  To his face.

  But she isn’t finished. “Maybe if you acted more like your app self, you’d stand a chance with her.”

  Can I get an amen?

  “Bye.” Hannah’s hands are planted on her hips.

  JB laughs. “See ya.”

  “We’re going.”

  “Bye.”

  I literally have to grab her arm so we actually do some leaving instead of embarrassing ourselves further.

  “You don’t get to be the last one to say bye. We’re the ones saying b—”

  My roommate gets a shove toward the door. “Oh my god, shut up! Stop trying to get the last word in.”

  “But he—”

  “I’m going to kill you. I really am.” This couldn’t have gone any more terribly unless an actual murder had taken place. Perhaps my hands wrapping around her neck to strangle her.

  “Why are you yelling at me?” Hannah has the lady balls to ask as I shove her through the front door, the little hostess fascinated by the spectacle of us.

  “I’m not yelling! This isn’t yelling!” I yell once we’re in the parking lot. “Get in the car! Get. In. The. Car!”

  Hannah rawrs like a cat.

  “I hate when you do that,” I grumble, glaring at her over the roof of my piece-of-shit car, secretly hoping she bangs her forehead on the doorframe (as she so often does) as punishment for being obnoxious.

  It doesn’t happen.

  She glides in unscathed, perfect hair still perfect. Lipstick completely intact. Skin dewy.

  “Well,” she says, buckling herself in. “I think that could have gone better.”

  I twist my torso, facing her, mouth falling open. “Are you for real right now? That was a train wreck.”

  She yawns. “I did you a favor.”

  “How?”

  “He’s definitely never going to want to see you again.”

  Neither is Abe.

  JB: Hey

  Me: Uh. Hey?

  JB: Don’t be so surprised.

  Me: You’re seriously messaging me right now? I would have thought you’d have unmatched me for sure.

  JB: Why?

  Me: Are you insane? That date was a disaster.

  JB: LOL

  Me: My roommate’s face is still blue from the outrage.

  JB: What did she think of Abe?

  Me: She didn’t. She was too busy hating on you. Sorry, this isn’t going to work. I assumed you realized that when I was dragging her out of the restaurant.

  Me: Or are you one of those guys who likes psychopaths? Do you love being in dramatic relationships? Are you a glutton for punishment?

  JB: No, no, and no.

  Me: Then WHY ARE YOU MESSAGNING ME

  JB: Wait—did you just call yourself a psychopath?

  Me: No. But I could be.

  JB: You’re too nice to be nuts.

  Me: The last guy who called me nuts disappeared. They haven’t heard from him since.

  JB: See? We can get along…

  Me: …but not in person, apparently. We’re destined to be pen pals, sorry dude.

  JB: Ouch—you called me dude. That’s friend zone shit right there.

  Me: Even that’s a stretch.

  JB: So, while we’re on the subject, what did YOU think of Abe?

  Me: Your roommate? I wasn’t thinking of him at all. Should I have been?

/>   JB: No. Just wondering what you thought.

  Me: Why. Did he say something?

  Me: About me, specifically?

  JB: Yeah, we talked about it.

  Me: Oh?

  Me: Be honest—he thinks we’re a terrible match.

  JB: It did come up, LOL

  Me: Awesome…

  Me: What else did he say?

  JB: For someone who’s not interested in my roommate, you sure seem interested in what he had to say about you.

  Me: So you admit he said some things about me…

  JB: A few things.

  Me: Like?

  JB: The usual.

  Me: I swear to God, if you’re going to continue dangling bait and then not telling me anything, I’m hanging up.

  JB: **eye roll**

  Me: You know what I mean…

  JB: How about we do this: you give me a detail about yourself, and I’ll tell you one thing Abe said about you.

  Me: Oddly, that sounds like extortion.

  JB: #Semantics. Take it or leave it.

  Me: OR we do this: for every detail you tell me about Abe, you also give me one thing he said about me after the double date from hell.

  JB: You’re calling it the double date from hell, too??!!!

  Me: Haha, very funny…

  JB: Why are you suddenly curious about Abe?

  Me: You’re the one who brought him up.

  JB: **shrugs** Suit yourself…

  Me: Just riddle me this: it’s obvious I’m not your type, so why do you care to hear details? I’m not the kind of girl you’re going to date, and I wouldn’t go out with you again if I was being paid…

  Me: …okay MAYBE if I was being paid. But it would have to be a lot of money.

  JB: Since when is it a bad thing to want to know information about someone?

  Me: It’s not in most cases except this one, LOL. I don’t like you. Like—at all.

  JB: Did you like Abe?

  Me: What would make you ask that?

  JB: I’m curious.

  Me: I’ll admit I thought he was really nice.

  JB: Nice?

  Me: Yes, NICE. That’s a great quality, last time I checked. You should try it sometime.

  JB: Ouch.

  Me: Truth serum. Sorry.

  JB: So you thought he was nice. Anything else?

  Me: You’re being weird. I mean, I thought you were weird already, but now I’m questioning your sanity. Are you trying to hook me up with your roommate? I thought that went against bro code