Little Lies

by H Hunting

  He unfolds his legs and carefully steps around the fallen items on the floor. He’s a good four or five inches shorter than me, and probably a good fifty pounds lighter, but he rolls his shoulders back and juts his chin out.

  I rub the back of my neck. “I, uh . . .”

  He shakes his head. “If you’re thinking about apologizing, don’t bother—especially not to me, because I won’t accept it. I’m not the person you should be apologizing to anyway. I don’t know what your problem is, but I can tell you from what I’ve witnessed you don’t deserve Lavender or her forgiveness.” He turns back to Lavender, who’s also now standing amidst the contents of her drawer. He pulls her into a hug, glaring at me over her shoulder and whispers something I don’t catch.

  Josiah has some serious balls. He’s a good friend, and I reluctantly admit to myself that I’m glad she has him in her corner.

  She takes his hands in hers and squeezes, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, whispering, “Thank you for being such a good friend. I promise I’ll be fine.”

  The jealousy is almost more than I can handle. But I tamp it down, because I’ve created a huge mess already. Literally and figuratively. Lavender walks him to the door, and they whisper to each other before she finally closes it with a quiet click and turns to face me. She is seriously pissed, but also exceptionally calm.

  She props her hands on her hips. “How many times have you been in my room?”

  Present day

  I RUB THE back of my neck, searching for a way to explain my behavior. There really isn’t a good excuse without coming clean. All the way clean. And I’m so exhausted, so tired of fighting against this, of trying to make her hate me, of making myself miserable . . . “A couple.”

  “So twice?” she presses.

  This isn’t the Lavender I knew. She was shy and quiet and never, ever called me on my shit like she does now. Although usually I was coming to her rescue, not being an asshole, so the calling out wasn’t necessary. “Uhhh, I guess . . .” I swallow as she continues to stare. Not believing me. I think about the times I’ve sat outside her door just to be close. And the handful of times I picked the lock. “More like a few.”

  Her right brow raises. She seems to decide the actual number isn’t important. Thankfully. “Why?”

  “Huh?” It’s difficult not to focus on the items scattered across the floor—the ones I dumped there, thinking I’d make some kind of point. It’s not helping the thoughts running through my head, which are jumbling up like an off-kilter tray full of marbles.

  “Why were you in here? It’s a fairly straightforward question, shouldn’t be too difficult for your genius brain to manage.”

  “I just . . . I wanted to see . . .” I flounder, fighting the rising panic.

  “See what?” She flails her hand toward her bed. “What I keep in my nightstand drawer? Did you check for a journal? Did you want to see if I was still pining for you? Were you looking for more ways to humiliate me? Coveting them like little grenades you planned to set off every time I needed a reminder of how much you hate me?”

  She stalks closer, and I hold my breath, willing her to touch me—shove me, smack me, anything, but she doesn’t. Her ocean-blue eyes flash with ire. “Message fucking received, Kodiak. You delivered it perfectly two years ago, and I sure as hell haven’t forgotten how that felt. I don’t require any more goddamn reminders, though you seem like you’re quite fond of delivering them. I screwed up your life. I get it. I was a goddamn child, and I had no idea it was going to get as bad as it did, but I was not alone in those choices, so stop punishing me for something I didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of control over.”

  “That wasn’t . . . I don’t . . . I’m not . . .” I pace the room, more to keep myself from acting on impulses I can’t allow. I accidentally kick a bottle of lube across the floor. It comes to a stop in front of Lavender. She bends to pick it up, flipping it between her fingers.

  “Then what was this about?” She lobs the bottle at me. Normally she has piss-poor aim, but it hits me in the thigh, a few inches shy of my junk. I catch it before it can fall to the floor. I try not to think about what she uses this for, but the images are already popping like bubbles in my brain.

  “I didn’t want you up here alone with him,” I admit.

  “Why? You’ve made it clear you don’t want me. So why are you being such a cockblocking son of a bitch, other than to make me miserable?”

  I scrub a hand over my face. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh yes, it is! You’ve been a nightmare to deal with. Every time I turn around, there you are, making my life damn well impossible. Why can’t you leave me alone? Why do you feel the need to torment me so relentlessly?”

  “Because I can’t have you!” I shout.

  Her expression shifts to confusion. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? You don’t even want me, so why does that matter?” she shouts back. “Who the fuck are you? What the hell happened to you?”

  I don’t understand how she can’t see what’s right in front of her. Why does she have to make me say it all? What happened to when we could just be together and know what the other person was feeling? “You! You happened!”

  She throws her hands in the air. “I won’t apologize for the mistakes we made when we were kids!”

  I’m done fighting this, and her. I can’t keep doing this or I’m going to lose my mind, and based on what I’ve done tonight, I think I’m already halfway there. I can’t think, I can’t focus . . . All these years of holding this in have eaten away at me, turning me into someone I don’t even recognize.

  Desperation bubbles to the surface and spills over. “How can you not see it?”

  “See what?”

  “Don’t you get it? All of it was bullshit!” I yell. “I lied!”

  Her voice goes eerily calm. “Lied about what, exactly?”

  Her frustration at my lack of explanation is understandable, but I’ve spent so many years avoiding and pushing my feelings down, I don’t know how to tell her the truth. I worry I’ve ruined this, us, beyond repair and she’ll never forgive me.

  And I’ll lose her all over again.

  “About everything.” I run my hands through my hair.

  She skims her bottom lip with her teeth, running them over the scar. “Explain that, please,” she says, voice barely a whisper.

  “After our parents sat us down and told us we needed a break, I was so angry. It hurt to stay away from you. I hated it, but I also realized I didn’t have control anymore. Not when it came to you. It had to be all or nothing. I was making you worse. I was making me worse. I made you dependent on me, and the worst part was that I wanted it that way. They were right to try to split us up. I was so fucking toxic.”

  “That’s what you said, we were toxic for each other.”

  I shake my head. “You were never toxic for me, but I was toxic for you. For a while I didn’t see it, but you started to do better. I hated that you were okay without me. I knew if I kept coming back, it would ruin you, and you’d already been through so much.” I lace my fingers behind my neck and pace the length of the room. “But that night before we moved, all I wanted was to see you, see for myself that you really were better and that I’d done the right thing.”

  “You kissed that girl the day you left! I saw it happen.”

  “I was angry! You didn’t come to say goodbye.”

  Her eyes flash with indignation. It’s understandable, but it’s terrifying all the same. “You’d barely spoken to me in months. What was I saying goodbye to? And it’s not as though you made an effort to reach out after you moved anyway!”

  “I did try, but you shut me down and then stopped responding!”

  “River blocked your messages,” she says softly. “I didn’t know until recently.”

  “Of course he fucking did. And you know what? He was right to do it because I wouldn’t have been able to let you go otherwise. After we moved, I still missed you all the damn t
ime. It killed me that you were gone from my world, but there wasn’t another option. I wasn’t going to be good for you. Everyone saw what I couldn’t. I was naïve to believe that after five fucking years I could handle being near you again. I couldn’t deal at all. All it took was seeing you once and everything came rushing back. I was still going to be toxic for you. And you weren’t a kid anymore, which made it worse. Nothing had changed, Lavender. Not for me. I felt exactly the same as I had the day I moved away from you, so I lied.” She’s silent and unmoving, so I continue, digging my own grave. “That night when you came and found me at your parents’—”

  “You mean the night I caught you creeping on me and followed you back to the spare room, and you made me repeat all of those horrible things you said?” Her voice is hard and sharp like knives.

  I stop in front of her. “You were seventeen, and I was already in college. If I had done what I’d wanted to, I would have caused us to implode. I wouldn’t have been able to manage the distance and not being there when you needed me. I already knew what leaving you felt like. I didn’t think I’d survive it again.”

  “So you told me you didn’t want me and you never would.”

  “I lied to save you from me.” My chest aches, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  She rubs the scar on her bottom lip. “And all the shit you’ve pulled this year? The horrible things you’ve said and done? I’m just supposed to forgive you because you decided this was how you were going to protect me?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just want you to understand.”

  “You made me feel like nothing. You were a huge part of my life, and you abandoned me.”

  “Because I loved you, I l—”

  She recoils and puts her hands up defensively. “Do not finish that sentence. You don’t deserve to say those words, not with the way you’ve treated me. From the first day I came here, you made me feel like a nuisance.”

  “I wasn’t prepared for what it was like to be this close to you again.”

  I’ve put off being called up by the NHL the past two years by convincing my parents I wanted to finish my degree first. They believe this, because as much as hockey is my life, I’ve always wanted a backup plan. Concussions can cause a lot of damage, and I’m screwed up enough as it is. I won’t risk my brain for a sweet paycheck.

  But the real truth is, I wanted to stay because I knew there was a very good chance Lavender would be here. Some small part of me wanted to prove I was over her, though I knew I wasn’t. I didn’t have to dig very deep to come to that conclusion. It took one five-minute trip in a car with her to realize I was fucked.

  “So you were an asshole instead.” She exhales a slow breath. “And Bethany, the girl who came out of your house not half an hour after you dropped me off that first day, did you fuck her right after you made me feel worthless and insignificant?”

  “What? No.” I don’t know how she even knows about Bethany being anywhere near me.

  As if she can read my mind, she says, “I was on my way back to campus when she walked by me. She was talking about being in your room and having an in. Might as well tell the truth, Kodiak. All the little lies are piling up and burying you.”

  “I didn’t touch her.” I feel sick thinking about that day. How I behaved. What I almost let happen.

  “I can hear the but in there. Something must’ve happened. I saw you with her again.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose. “But I didn’t touch her.”

  “This distinction really seems to matter to you, doesn’t it, Kodiak? As if your inaction somehow makes it better. Did she touch you that first day, after you humiliated me and drove me home? Did you let her put her hands on you, then?”

  I shake my head, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

  Lavender tilts her head to the side, pensive. Too perceptive. Even after all these years, she knows me too well for my own good. “So what happened then?”

  “She wouldn’t leave.”

  “Did you use your words, Kodiak? Seems like you’re pretty good at pushing people away when you want to.” She turns, giving me her profile, her fingers curl into fists and release. “Have you fucked her?”

  “No.”

  “Has she fucked you?” She smiles at the distinction she’s making, although it’s cynical.

  “No.” Although she’s tried on multiple occasions to make it happen. She’s persistent and desperate, the latter of which I’m highly familiar with.

  Lavender runs her finger across her eyebrow and rubs her temple, like she’s trying to get rid of a headache. “And now you’re telling me you want me? That you always have, and you treated me like garbage for my own good?” She glances down at the front of my basketball shorts, which do a shit job of hiding anything. “Are you turned on?”

  I shrug. “You’re fired up, and there are sex toys all over your floor.”

  “So acting like a dick gets you hard?”

  “You giving me hell turns me on.” I wave a hand in her direction and give up completely. “And you in general, everything about you.”

  “So what exactly did you think was going to happen when you busted in here and made it rain fake dicks? Did you think I would swoon at the romance of it all and ride yours?”

  “I didn’t, no. I just thought . . . I just wanted—”

  “To come in beating your chest and let Josiah know he couldn’t have me? Stake your claim.” She motions to my crotch again. “Kinda looks like that was your dick’s plan.”

  “I didn’t have a plan. I wanted that guy not to put his hands on you.” I spit the words like bitter pills.

  “So you could?”

  I throw my hands in the air. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I told you I lied, that I want you.”

  “And you sound like you’re really ecstatic about it too.”

  “Maverick is my best friend, and River keeps threatening to murder me if I so much as look at you.” And I kind of believe he’d do it. River always seems like he’s on the edge of snapping.

  She rolls her shoulders back and raises her chin, defiant and painfully beautiful. “Nut the fuck up, Kodiak. You’ve been an asshole to me for a lot of years. You made me think I was an annoyance and someone you’ve humored since you became a teenager, and you’ve done nothing but make this semester miserable for me. Do you have any idea what it’s like living here with the three of you? It’s a cockblock-a-thon. My entire damn life, everyone’s protected me. Who are you to decide what’s best for me?”

  “Lavender—”

  “Shut it, Kodiak. I don’t need this dadbro bullshit. You want me? Then do something proactive about it that isn’t being an asshole or pounding on your chest like some Neanderthal. You’re a damn genius. Use your brain and figure out how to manage the situation.”

  I can do that. Be proactive. I take a step forward, but Lavender puts her hand up to stop me.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Being proactive.”

  “By doing what, exactly?”

  “Uh . . .” I scratch the edge of my jaw. “I was going to start by kissing you.”

  Lavender snorts. “You think you deserve to kiss me after the hell you’ve put me through? That’s a fuck no, big boy. You want to know what my mouth tastes like, you need to earn it, and everything else.”

  My erection kicks behind my basketball shorts. “Uh, right. Okay. What can I do? Should I . . . apologize again?”

  She drags her tongue across her bottom lip, eyes narrowed as a slow smile forms. “You should sit the fuck down.”

  I take several steps back and drop into her computer chair, which groans under my weight, since it’s made to fit her tiny body, not mine.

  Lavender lifts her tank over her head and tosses it at me. Her tits are nestled in a white satin bra. There’s a lot of cleavage. Lavender has big boobs. She gets asked if they’re fake a lot, especially since the rest of her is so damn tiny. Fun size, really.

  “What’re y
ou doing?” My voice is about two octaves higher than it should be.

  “You seem to think you know what happens when I’m alone up here. So I’m going to show you. And maybe it’ll give you a little motivation to figure your damn shit out.” She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra.

  The straps slide down her arms, and she lets it fall to the floor, exposing her breasts. She grabs them and squeezes, tugging at her nipples. “I bet you want to do this, don’t you?”

  “God, yes, I really do,” I grunt. I want them in my mouth. I want to slide my cock between those full, lush tits. I push out of the chair.

  She raises a hand, giving me pause. “Sit down or the show’s over.”

  I drop down and the chair rolls back, hitting her desk, causing the jar of pencils to fall over. She pops the button on her jeans and drags her zipper down. My erection strains, and I grip the arms of the chair to keep from launching myself at her, since the last thing I want her to do is stop. She shimmies the denim over her hips and down her thighs.

  She gives me her back, showing off a pair of black cheekies, and bends at the waist as she removes those too. Lavender’s ass is fan-fucking-tastic. Round and full and completely biteable. And smackable. I would know, since I’ve done both of those things.

  She falters for a moment, back expanding as she drags in a deep breath. Her arms hang at her sides, and she draws a figure eight on the outside of her leg, like she’s trying to calm herself.

  “You’re perfect, Lavender,” I tell her, afraid she’s going to lose her nerve and stop whatever this is.

  She peeks coyly over her shoulder as she runs her hands over her hips.

  I nod in encouragement. “I want to touch you like that.”

  “I bet you do.” She palms her ass, gives it a squeeze, and follows it with a swift slap that makes me jump and her smile.

  The thought crosses my mind that she might not be a virgin.

  In which case, I’m going to want to dig some graves.

  She runs her fingers through her long, wavy hair, pulling it into a ponytail and fixing it with an elastic before she turns around.