Little Lies

by H Hunting

  “But you do,” she says softly. “And that’s okay, Lavender. It’s human. You were very close for a long time.”

  I stare at the swirls and lines on the paper, at the ugliness I’ve created. “I don’t want to feel anything. I don’t want to be hurt, or jealous, or disappointed. I don’t want to feel betrayed.” I dip my pointer finger in the red paint and drag it through the mess I’ve created, splitting it in two so it mirrors my insides.

  “I thought I was past all of this, but I’m not, Queenie. He was such a huge part of my life, and then he was gone.” I snap my fingers, drops of black and red splattering the paper. “Nobody understands what it was like, what it’s still like sometimes. And I know it wasn’t healthy. I know that. But he was mine, and then he was nothing. Is nothing.”

  We talked a lot about the loss of that friendship in the aftermath, how it echoed a death. I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to really and truly lose someone. How does a heart recover from losing someone fundamental to its existence? It gave me a new, deeper fear. I obsessed about death for a while, wanting to know where we go when we die. Does our body cease and our mind go on, voiceless and floating in the nothingness? Are we eternally alone with ourselves?

  “I’m going to say something,” Queenie announces, “not as your therapist, but as someone who cares about both you and Kody.”

  I still, my breath locked in my throat as I wait for words that will undo this pain. I meet her gaze and see inside her, right to the core of her uncertainty. And in that moment, I learn that adults are not infallible, that they don’t always have the answers, and sometimes they fuck shit up.

  “No one ever expected things to go this way.” Her voice is soft like satin and sad like a funeral.

  “Go what way?”

  Queenie drops her head, her hand smoothing over her belly in rhythmic circles meant to calm—her or the baby, I’m not sure.

  When her gaze meets mine, I feel her regret. “We didn’t account for Kody shutting down the way he did. You were both so young, and your bond was so strong. There was concern as to what that might look like in the future.”

  These are all things I know. Things we’ve talked about.

  And they were right to worry, because we were out of control. I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now. Kodiak would have tried to save me forever, and I would have drowned in my own anxiety to let him. I wanted that more than I wanted to get better.

  “You did the right thing.” I press my palm against the paper. “The only way to break a bad habit is to eradicate it from your life. And that’s exactly what he’s done. Mission accomplished.” I drag my hand down and blur the lines. Everything bleeds together, my creation destroyed. So apt, considering it was me who ruined everything in the first place.

  Present day

  “WHAT DO YOU mean you’re moving out?” River follows me down the stairs, nearly stepping on my heels.

  I brought Lovey and Lacey with me as reinforcements. I figure I can toss the basics into my suitcase and a couple of tote bins and manage the rest later.

  My sewing supplies are going to be an issue. I may have to concede to working on projects here, because they’re not quite so easy to transport. But again, I can assess once I’m in my room and have an idea of the space.

  “I put myself on the list and a room became available. I decided to take it.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, he tries to worm his way around me, but I get to the front door first. Lovey and Lacey are behind him with two more boxes. Getting the door open is a problem, though, because I don’t have a free hand, and River is crowding me.

  I give him a look. “Seriously, River?”

  “Why do you want to live in the dorms? You’re going to hate it. Girls are catty. You won’t know people. What happens if-if-if . . . you have a huge anxiety attack?”

  I’m holding a box full of toiletries and crap. It’s heavy. It’s not like I didn’t expect this, but my arms are starting to protest. “Then I’ll manage like I have for the past seven years.”

  “But, but . . .” He flails and flounders. “Is it because of whatever happened last night? Or because I got into it with Kody?”

  “That you actually need to ask that question is pretty much the reason I’m moving out. Now back up so I can open the door.” I push against his stomach with my box.

  The door opens, hitting me in the back and causing me to stumble forward. And of course, because nothing can be easy, Kodiak tries to push his way into the front hall, which was already crowded with me and River and the seven million stinky pairs of shoes on the floor. These guys and their shoes.

  “What’s going on?” His T-shirt is wet with perspiration. His hair is drenched, and beads of sweat trickle down his temples. He’s clearly been for a run. He should look disgusting, but he doesn’t.

  “Lavender’s moving out,” River spits. “And it’s your fucking fault.”

  “I can’t deal with this.” I use their momentary distraction to slip past Kodiak. Lacey and Lovey dance their way around him too.

  “How is that my fault? I’m only here for a few weeks, and then I’ll be back in my own place,” Kodiak scoffs, but he sounds unnerved.

  I drop the box in the trunk and turn to face them. River and Kodiak are standing with their arms crossed, barricading the door. I’ll come back for the rest of the things I need tomorrow, when they aren’t home.

  I pin them with a glare. “I need a damn break from the blame game and all the bullshit.” Lovey and Lacey drop their boxes in the trunk, and I slam it shut.

  “What about your sewing machine?” River’s eyes are wide with panic. “And what about Mom and Dad? Do they know? There’s no way Mom is gonna be cool with this.”

  “I already talked to Mom. She fully supports my decision. As for my sewing machine, I’ll deal with it later. Let’s go, girls.”

  We get into the car, and I lock the doors because River is on his way down the steps. He tries to open the driver’s side door as I put the car in reverse. He knocks on the window. “Come on, Lav! You can’t seriously be moving out!”

  I ignore him since there is no other option, and I’m not stopping to discuss this. I’m not giving him the chance to try to convince me to stay. He chases me halfway down the street before he finally gives up.

  I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard, the vinyl creaks, and my knuckles are white. It’s really to prevent my hands from shaking. I’m aware that this is probably going to make things worse with River and Kodiak, but I can’t deal anymore. Pandering to River isn’t helping either of us.

  “Are you okay?” Lovey asks.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “That was seriously badass,” Lacey says from the back seat.

  “Thanks.” I blow out a long breath, trying to find some calm. My cells feel like they’re vibrating on a high frequency.

  “Kodiak looked like he was going to shit a brick,” Lovey says.

  “Good for him.” I didn’t tell either of them what happened last night. Or about the conversation I had with my mom before I met up with them, or what River admitted to me about blocking Kodiak’s number. I still don’t know exactly what to think about all of that, other than it shifts my perspective on everything. Kodiak can be very rigid. He’s always been that way, unless it’s me. I’d been the exception to his rule.

  He had a hierarchy, and hockey had always been at the top of that list, followed by his mom, schoolwork, me, and then Maverick—until everything fell apart. And as the pieces of this puzzle fall into place, his behavior begins to make a lot more sense. But it sure doesn’t excuse him for acting like a complete asshole the past two years.

  We arrive at Hartford House, a seven-story building of apartment-style dorms. I pull into an empty space in the short-term parking, and we each grab a box.

  A guy who is most definitely a student sits behind the desk. Based on the way his head is bowed, he’s messing around with his phone. It takes so long for him to l
ift his head that Lovey clears her throat. When he finally looks up, his sour expression turns into wide-eyed surprise. His gaze bounces from Lovey to Lacey and then to me. He fumbles with his phone and drops it on the desk, faceup. He’s watching some kind of drunk-fail video. Classy. He quickly flips it over and adopts a casual pose. He’s wearing a school branded T-shirt. “Hey. Hi. Hello. I’m Mitchell.” He taps his name badge. “How can I help you?”

  It takes me about three seconds to find my voice, which doesn’t sound long, but when someone is waiting for an answer it seems like an eternity. “I-I—”

  “There’s a room available here for Lavender Waters. The housing department said she could move in today,” Lovey rushes to fill the silence.

  I half appreciate it and half hate it. If she’d given me another second, I would’ve been able to get the words out.

  “Oh wow, that’s great.” He nods a bunch of times, like Lovey has just told him he’s won an award of excellence.

  I raise my hand. “I’m Lavender.”

  “Right. Cool name. Let me check on that.” He flashes a wide grin and shifts so he’s facing the computer. After tapping a few buttons, his grin drops and his expression turns into more of a grimace. “Uh, okay. I found it. You’re in a double.” He smiles stiffly. “Your roommate is Beth Gull. She’s a sophomore.”

  “Okay. Great. Thanks.”

  He makes a brief phone call and sets me up with my keys. Two minutes later, a girl named Sydney introduces herself as the RA on my floor and gives me a quick rundown of all the rules. I introduce her to Lovey and Lacey and tell her they’re helping me move my stuff in.

  “You have to register guests with the front desk. Sometimes people try to sneak them in.” Her expression turns disapproving. “But you can get written up for that.”

  I exchange a look with Lovey and Lacey. “Okay, register guests.” Geez, this sounds a lot like a less-fun version of summer camp. Not that I’ve ever been to summer camp, but my brothers used to go. River loved it until he got into a huge fight with another kid and got sent home for breaking his nose. At least that was the story we got.

  The hallways are bland, the doors the same, although some of them are decorated with nameplates, and a few have those whiteboard things fixed to them where people can leave messages. When we get to room 414, Sydney mutters something under her breath and swipes her hand across the whiteboard, erasing whatever was written there.

  She knocks and waits a good fifteen seconds before she tries again. More muttering follows and Lovey elbows me, giving me her wide, what-the-hell eyes. I shrug. I don’t know if this RA is a weirdo, or we interrupted her Vampire Diaries marathon or what, but she’s definitely in a mood.

  She opens the door and peeks inside, shoulders sagging as she blows out what seems like a relieved breath. “Beth must be out.” She motions to the space in front of us. “This is your common room. You have a TV, a couch, chair, coffee table, bar fridge, microwave, and coffee maker. You’re not allowed to have a hotplate because it’s against code. Also, no smoking.”

  “No smoking and no hotplate, got it,” I echo.

  The common space is a sty. There are empty food boxes littering pretty much every surface, and used tissues all over the floor. I also think there might be a few condom wrappers under the coffee table, but I’m afraid to look too closely.

  “And we routinely do room checks for alcohol. You can get kicked out for that too,” Sydney says.

  “Right. No booze.” I nod my agreement. We’re all still holding our boxes, and there’s no spot to put them down.

  “That’s Beth’s room.” Sydney motions to the door with the KEEP OUT BITCHES sign stuck to it. “And that’s yours.”

  “Cool.”

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “Okay, well, I’m in room 420 if you need anything. Good luck.” And with that, she spins on her heel and busts it down the hall.

  I awkwardly prop my box on my hip so I can unlock my room. The door swings open with a creak. I feel around for the light switch and flick it on. Then I drop my box on the desk with a groan. Lacey and Lovey do the same, and we stand there for a few long, quiet seconds, taking in my new bedroom.

  “It’s . . .” Lovey doesn’t seem to be able to find words to finish that statement.

  “It looks like a glorified prison cell,” Lacey says.

  She’s not wrong. The walls are cinderblock, painted off-white. There’s a basic wardrobe, a dresser, and a single bed, plus a desk and a computer chair that looks far from ergonomic.

  “It’s cozy.” My closet in Lake Geneva is probably the same size as this entire room.

  “That’s one way to describe it,” Lacey mutters.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lovey asks.

  The answer is no. I’m not sure at all. As I stand here, staring at this tiny, ugly room, I come to the conclusion that I’m ridiculously pampered. Growing up with a dad who makes ridiculous amounts of money means we’ve lived in nice houses and had nicer-than-average things.

  I still had a part-time job as soon as I turned fifteen, because my parents wanted me to have the responsibility and to learn how to save money. They also wanted me to be able to handle social situations without having an anxiety attack. Granted, I’ve always worked in libraries, where quiet is key, and most of the time I’m either shelving or checking out books, but it was still a job and still some forced, controlled social interaction.

  “Once I put some of my stuff on the walls, it’ll feel homier.” It also has a slightly funky smell I can’t quite put my finger on.

  We spend the next hour unpacking. Even with my comforter and my personal effects, the room is still small and shitty, but it’s also away from Kodiak and my brothers, so that’s a win.

  Lacey and Lovey have some project they need to finish, and I have a freaking economics assignment I need to work on before class tonight, so they take off, promising to check in on me later, and I pop in my earbuds and try to tackle the questions. I get through most of them before I have to leave for class, but I don’t even have time to stop and grab dinner so I settle for a handful of Lucky Charms before I’m out the door.

  By the time class is over, my head feels like it’s going to explode, and also, I’m starving. In addition, I have seven hundred messages from River that I’m not interested in answering. I return to my dorm, expecting that I might meet my roommate, but our common room is still an empty sty.

  I toss my bag on the floor, grab my box of Lucky Charms since the cafeteria is closed, and flop down on my bed with my psych text. I must pass out at some point while reading, because I wake up with a jolt.

  It’s dark in my room, and the clock reads after midnight. It’s not uncommon for me to sleep for twelve hours after I’ve dealt with some huge emotional thing, so my passing out almost as soon as I got home from class isn’t much of a surprise. The whole conversation with my mom about Kodiak and moving out of the house definitely qualifies as emotional.

  A high-pitched, feminine voice filters through my door, followed by the low tones of a male voice, giggling and something falling on the floor. Soon the laughing becomes sighs and groans. Awesome. My new roommate is having sex in the filthy living room.

  I pop my earbuds back in and crank the volume to drown them out. Every time a song ends, I get a snippet of their sexy times. It goes on for a good half hour before it finally ends. My dorm experience is starting off with a bang.

  IN THE MORNING, my anxiety is at a nice, ridiculously high level. At five thirty, the need to pee overrides my desire to never come out of this room in hopes of avoiding a dreaded run-in with my roommate and her boyfriend/fuck buddy. I have to bring my room key with me to our bathroom because my door automatically locks behind me. This isn’t super convenient, but I can see why it’s necessary.

  In addition to the old-food smell, the common room now boasts the horrible odor of used latex and vagina.

  I
take care of business as quickly as I can and nearly slam into a bare chest on my way out of the bathroom.

  “Lavender?”

  I lift my gaze from the man nipples to a familiar face. As far as signs go, this isn’t a great one. “Oh, hey, Clarke.”

  He looks super confused. “I didn’t know you lived in the dorms.” He runs his hand through his hair, eyes moving over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

  I’m wearing one of those bra tank things and a pair of sleep shorts. My nipples are most definitely saluting him. I cross my arms over my chest to hide them. “I guess now you do,” is my highly intellectual response.

  His eyes flare, as though he’s connecting the dots. “Sorry about the noise last night.”

  “Nothing a nice hard-rock playlist won’t drown out.” Now would’ve been an awesome time for my words not to work. “Anyway, bathroom’s all yours.” I slip past him, desperate to disappear before my roommate wakes up and this gets even more awkward. Clarke is a hockey player, and I’m now concerned my roommate may be one of the bunnies I’ve had the misfortune of meeting before.

  By the time I’m dressed and ready to leave, it’s quarter to seven.

  I sneak out undetected and head for the cafeteria. It’s busy, and I’m not used to communicating with anyone but family this early—and that’s mostly in offensive hand signals.

  The noise and sheer volume of people is more than I can deal with, so I grab a coffee and a muffin and head for the Arts Building. My class isn’t for another forty minutes, so I find a quiet corner, pop my earbuds in, cue up a playlist, and settle in with my coffee and my homework. I have a test at the beginning of next week, and unless I can master these concepts, I won’t have a hope in hell of passing. I’m deep into unemployment rates and struggling to understand percentages when a shadow appears in front of me and doesn’t move. I lift my head and am relieved to see it’s not my brothers, or Kodiak, or one of my cousins.

  “Hey, Josiah, how’s it going?” He has a hickey on his neck that he’s trying to hide with a collared Harry Potter polo.