The Truths We Told

by Blair, E. K.

  “I’m getting your ass on one of them tomorrow,” he says when he kicks off his shoes and jumps on top of the bed. “We’re all going to Indian Rocks.”

  “What’s Indian Rocks.”

  “Just a local beach. You’ll be the only kook there,” he jokes as I step out of my flip-flops and lie down next to him.

  His cell phone rings, and when he picks it up, he murmurs, “It’s Ady,” before answering, “What’s up?” He then holds the cell out to me. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, so, don’t kill me, but—”

  “What?” I question wearily.

  “I had no idea that Micah’s parents were chartering a yacht for the party, so we’re out here on the water, and I have no idea when we’re going to be docking. I can only assume it’s going to be late.”

  “Hold on,” I tell her, and then turn to Trent. “Apparently, the party is on a boat and Ady won’t be home until late.”

  “It’s cool. Just stay here.”

  “Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s not a problem.”

  When I bring the phone back to my ear, I tell Ady, “I’ll just crash at Trent’s.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, and I can tell by her tone she feels really bad.

  “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I hand him back the phone, and after he sets it on his nightstand, he grabs the remote and turns on the large television hanging on his wall. His childhood bedroom feels so much different from his room back in Miami, and it’s weird to be hanging out in it. There aren’t as many clues to who he is at his condo as there are here. I lift my eyes to the surfboard that’s broken into two pieces and mounted above his headboard.

  “Is that real?”

  He looks up and nods. “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  “My brother and I were spring breaking in Huntington Beach. I took a fall and a damn wave came straight down on the board and snapped it.”

  I laugh. “That’s a lame story.”

  “Not all of us have righteous tales of face-planting into the reefs of Hawaii like you.”

  Reaching down, I grab the blanket that’s folded along the foot of his bed and pull it over myself.

  “You cold?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come here,” he says, slipping his arm underneath my neck and pulling me close.

  I use his chest as a pillow while we watch a random movie; although, I’m having a hard time focusing. I keep thinking back to what his mother said. I want to ask him about it, but knowing how private he is, I waver on whether I should mention anything. The last thing I want to do is tip the boat when everything has been going so smoothly with us lately.

  Almost too smoothly.

  I’m well aware that I need to sort my shit out and not reignite this hopeless crush on Trent. But, at the same time, it isn’t just my relationship with Caleb that I’m trying to sort through, I’m also trying to figure out my relationship with Trent. Since we started talking again, I’m feeling things that I haven’t felt in a while—not since we first met—not since Caleb came into my life. When Trent isn’t around, he’s on my mind, and it’s clear that I’m treading down a path I have no business being on. I know Trent well, I recognize exactly what it is he’s looking for, and it isn’t commitment or anything close to that idea.

  But I don’t want that either—at least I don’t think I do. After all, Caleb burned me in the worst way possible, and it’s left me too fragile to pretend that I’m ready for another relationship. Really, it’s an asinine idea I shouldn’t be entertaining.

  But here I am, once again, lying in his arms, entertaining it.

  Something about this feels different than what it did when we were freshman. I consider everything we’ve been through, and after all this time, we’re bonded in a way we weren’t back then.

  My emotions are a mess, and so is my head, but the more time we spend together, the more my heart wanders—the same stupid heart that led me right into the arms of Caleb and kept me there. I shouldn’t trust it.

  It’s a scary feeling not to trust myself, but that’s where I am. I’m incapable of making right decisions when it comes to guys. That I’m starting to have feelings for someone like Trent is another example of my ill judgment. He’s sweet and loyal but completely against commitment.

  I’m not even sure why I’m giving these thoughts my attention. Even after all this time, the wounds Caleb left me with are still so raw.

  When I lift my chin and glance up at Trent, I find he’s already looking at me.

  “You got quiet on me.”

  I should say something—anything aside from everything my heart is screaming at me. He shifts down to meet me eye to eye, but I wish he hadn’t because now I’m questioning my questioning. A new thought I hadn’t considered perplexes me further: If my judgment is so off, and I’m telling myself not to cross any lines with Trent, does that mean I shouldn’t listen to myself? Should I do the exact opposite?

  Shit, what is he thinking, staring at me the way he is?

  Then I wonder if there’s a chance he might be on the same page as I am. If I really think about it, it’s clear that, when we go to parties, he no longer tries to score chicks to take back to his place. At the beach, he no longer chases after bunnies. When he has free time, he gives it to me.

  Damn, this boy has my head spinning.

  Unable to take the silence for any longer, I push past my rankled nerves to speak. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “What do you want to say?”

  He has me in tangles right now, and he knows it. How could he not? I don’t even realize my fingers are fidgeting along the collar of my shirt until he pulls them away and slowly laces his fingers through mine.

  My eyes fall shut when I softly beg, “Don’t do this.” God, I want him to, but under all the indecision and worry and doubt about my life, I know that I’m still the same girl at the core. I still can’t be a passing fling.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not that girl.”

  When my eyes reach his again, I wait for him to say something, but all I see is his confliction.

  “Say something,” I request.

  His eyes drift down to our hands, and it takes him a moment before he confesses, “I think I’m falling for you.”

  It’s the last thing I ever expected him to say, and I can barely hold on to myself as excitement and fear battle it out. His words are leading me to the edge, but if I jump, I don’t know if I can trust that he’ll catch me.

  “Now you say something.”

  Choosing to be upfront, I tell him, “This scares me.”

  “Same.”

  I can’t do this.

  Pulling my hand out from his, I sit up. “What are we doing?” I question. “This is crazy, and you know it.”

  Sitting up next to me, he turns off the television and tosses the remote aside. “Is it really that crazy?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I respond. “I mean . . . it’s you. Do you even know what you’re doing?”

  “Do you?”

  His question shuts me up, because no, I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “Answer me,” he presses.

  “No, but I don’t want to be some hookup for you.”

  He takes my head into his hands, and I’ve never seen him look so serious. “I don’t want that either. And yeah, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, but I do know how I feel when I’m with you, and I’m having a really hard time keeping you at a distance.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  “Let me show you that you can,” he says.

  I want to let him prove it to me, if only because I feel the same way. When I’m around him, I always want more. No matter how much I’ve tried to ignore it, that pull is there, and it isn’t leaving.

  His hand slips past my chee
k, around my neck, and into my hair. “Just give me a chance to show you.”

  Locked on to his mismatched eyes, I wonder if we’re mismatched too, but what if we aren’t? “This really scares me.”

  “I know it does,” he says before pulling me closer and kissing me.

  It isn’t the first time his lips have touched mine, but it’s the first time I know it isn’t a mistake on his part. He’s soft and slow, purposeful and cautious. It’s something I wouldn’t have expected from him, but it’s the care that he takes with me that has my doubts about this diminishing.

  When my hands get lost in his hair, he lowers us onto the bed. Parting my lips, he drags his tongue along mine, and I swear I can taste the life he’s breathing back into me. It’s an overwhelming sensation I never want to end, and when his hand drops to the small of my back, I go freely as he presses me closer to him. Comfort surrounds in his touch, a comfort I’ve been searching for. I just never thought it existed within him.

  My past has left me with knots the size of cannonballs all over me, but with the weight of Trent on top of me right now, he rubs some of them out. I just hope it doesn’t take a lifetime to untangle what he didn’t tie. It shocks me to know he’s willing to take these broken pieces of mine, take them willingly and soak them with every brush of his lips, with every caress of his tongue. He pulls back for a moment, his forehead resting against mine, and I can’t believe the taste of my damaged heart didn’t just burn a hole straight through him.

  His chest beats against mine as I wonder if it isn’t him I’m afraid of, but rather, maybe I’m afraid of the realness. Fearful that, for the first time in my life, I know I’m incapable of walking away from something—him. Maybe that is the very thing that scares the shit out of me. It still isn’t enough to make me push him away, so I pull instead, bringing his lips back down to mine.

  KATE

  Warmth cocoons me as I stir awake. Selfishly, I keep my eyes closed because to be wrapped in Trent’s arms like this feels too good to give up. Last night, nothing happened beyond kissing, but damn, the kissing felt amazing. Right now, my only worry is having to face the inevitable awkwardness.

  It’s one thing to meet a guy you have an instant connection with and start dating, but it’s another to be friends for three years before ever crossing that line. In a way, it’s comforting because we already know and trust each other, but still—it’s Trent.

  His arm constricts around me as he begins to stir, but the heat of his skin continues to relax me. Finally opening my eyes, I roll over, and he pulls me in close, tucking my head under his chin.

  “Did you sleep okay?”

  I nod as I nervously drag my finger along the edge of the waistband of his shorts. When I hit a certain spot, his abs flex, and he flinches. “Damn, girl.”

  “Does that tickle?” I tease before running my finger along the spot again.

  This time, he catches my wrist. “You’re about to wake up the big man downstairs if you’re not careful.”

  I giggle, but it catches in my throat just as there’s a knock on his door.

  “Yeah?” Trent says, and his mother walks in.

  I jump out of his arms and put a decent amount of space between us.

  She takes a quick glance my way. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you spent the night.”

  I want to die, like, literally die as I sink down into the covers.

  “What do you want, Mom?”

  “Just heading to my office to catch up on some patient files. Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll text you.”

  “Okay,” she says. “You guys have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

  After the door closes behind her, I yank the covers completely over my head with a mortified, “Oh my god.”

  Trent laughs, but I remain hidden. Next thing I know, he rips the sheets away from me, asking, “What’s the problem?”

  “Umm, your mother just saw us in bed together.”

  “So? At least you aren’t naked.” With a sexy grin, he rolls on top of me. “But we can fix that.”

  I goose him in the ribs, but the moment his lips capture mine, I give up and kiss him back. I’ve waited so long to finally have this with him. I was a fool to think that my feelings for him had ever faded. They just went quiet for a period of time.

  He finally drags his lips away from mine, and I look up into his eyes as he stares down at me. A lock of his long hair falls over his brows and lands on my forehead before I run my hand through it, pushing it back, the smooth strands gliding between my fingers.

  His expression is intent, focused solely on me as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. “Is this weird for you?”

  I nod. It’s a very strange feeling to have spent nearly the entire night kissing him. To shift from friends to . . . well, I’m not even sure what the hell we are, is extremely awkward, but it is in no way unwanted. “What about you?”

  He slides off me and lies at my side as I shift over onto my hip. “All of this is weird to me,” he admits. “But at the same time, it isn’t, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah.” I think about the two of us having to spend the day together with Ady and Micah, and it only makes me more uncomfortable. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act with Trent when we’re around them. There’s a big part of me that’s afraid of being judged and scrutinized for possibly making another huge mistake. Plus, this just happened, and with neither of us knowing exactly what we’re doing or where this is going, I’m not ready to share this with anyone. “Can I ask you something?”

  “What is it?”

  “Can we not say anything to Ady or Micah about this? I just . . . I just don’t want them to know yet.”

  I worry he might take offense, but he immediately quells that when he grins. “I’ve never been someone’s dirty little secret before.”

  “Shut up.” His sarcasm makes me smile. “Is that okay, though?”

  “Yeah,” he agrees. “We’ll just keep it between us for now.”

  I’m sure he probably has the same reservations I do. It isn’t as if he’s ever gotten involved with anyone, and once people find out about us—if there even is an us—there’s no doubt opinions will follow.

  We bide our time through the morning, not quick to get out of bed. We’re nothing more than restless lips, and there isn’t a single moment I have to tell him to go slow because he isn’t pushing at all. It’s another surprise he gifts to me. Last night, he was cautious and unhurried, and this morning, he allows me to lead. Trent is used to getting what he wants from girls, but in this moment, right now . . . between us . . . it’s as if the only thing he wants is what I’m willing to give him.

  I could stay in this bed with him all day, but someone keeps calling his cell over and over, he throws a curse before answering it with an annoyed, “Dude, why’re you blowing me up like a barnacle bitch?”

  I can hear Micah’s faint voice on the other end.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Trent tosses his phone aside. “They’re already there.”

  Once we throw on our beach gear, he grabs a couple of his skimboards before we head down to his Jeep and toss everything into the back. The humidity is thick, and as I’m buckling in, my skin is already dewy. While I shoot Ady a text to let her know we are finally heading out, Trent hops in the driver’s seat and hits the button to open the convertible top, exposing us to the elements.

  With the wind whipping through my hair, I throw on my sunglasses as he drives over the Gandy Bridge that takes us to Indian Rocks Beach. After we park and head to the sand, I spot Micah and Ady with a couple of guys.

  “Who are they with?” I ask Trent.

  “Looks like Brogan and Brandon,” he tells me. “Micah and I used to hang out with them all the time when we lived here. They’re chill.”

  “There you guys are,” Ady announces when she sees us. “What took you so long?”

  “Your girl would
n’t get off my nuts this morning,” Trent tells her, and for a split second, I freak out on the inside. Then I realize no one is taking him seriously because they’re so numb to the crap that comes out of his mouth.

  I’m quickly introduced to Brogan and Brandon before Micah nods to the boards we brought. “You getting on today?”

  “Going to try.”

  “You’ve never been on a board?” Brogan questions.

  “Surf, but never a skim. I grew up on the east coast.”

  “She’s a Palm Beach tart,” Trent tells them.

  I slug him in the arm and correct for the hundredth time. “West Palm Beach.”

  Brogan quirks a brow. “Is there a difference?”

  “Do I look like a Palm Beach girl?” I question, sweeping a hand down my body to emphasize my racer top bikini and my hair that is pulled into a ratty knot on top of my head.

  He eyes me for a second before grabbing his board and slinging his arm around my neck with a smirk. “Come on, you don’t want that assjack teaching you how to skim,” he says, shooting Trent a grin as he leads me away from the group.

  I welcome his distraction because I’m paranoid that, if I’m too close to Trent, everyone will be able to see right through the façade we agreed to hold on to.

  Brogan and I reach the edge of the water, and he guides me through the basics. “You’re going to hold on like this.” He demonstrates holding his board in front of him with one hand on the tail and the other hand on the side. “So, you want to wait until just after a wave rolls out—when the sand is coated with just a film of water—to begin your run. Once you’re at a decent speed, drop the board flat on the wet sand, directly in front of you, and get on. Don’t jump on, just run on top of it.”

  He covers a few more points before I’m ready to give it a go. As a wave rushes in, I begin my run and drop the board as the water rolls back out. Focusing on the weight distribution, I step onto the board, only to kick it out from under my feet and nearly topple forward. Thankfully, I’m able to catch myself from eating sand. From afar, I hear a collective applause, and when I see Trent and everyone else laughing, I flip them off.

  “You were leaning too far forward,” Brogan says as he grabs my board.