Little Lies

by H Hunting

  I fill them in on the whole situation, since I haven’t seen them since the guys came to get all my stuff. BJ doesn’t add much, other than to say Bethany is a loon and any of the guys on the team who slept with her are idiots.

  Lacey and Lovey have to go to class, which leaves me and BJ. He arches a brow. “So . . .”

  I shove a forkful of salad in my mouth and wish it were a blueberry muffin instead. I put a hand in front of my face and mumble, “So what?”

  “What happened with Kody last night?”

  “What do you mean what happened?” My voice is hella pitchy.

  “Well, he went upstairs about ten minutes after you and your friend went to study and never came back down. So what happened?”

  “Kodiak and I had a discussion.” This is not untrue.

  “What happened to your friend?”

  “He went home.”

  BJ frowns and strokes his beard. “Huh.”

  “Huh, what?”

  “Nothing. I must’ve been in the bathroom or something when he left.” He makes a dismissive gesture and crosses one leg over the other. “Anyway, tell me about this discussion.”

  “Kodiak was a douche, I called him out, we exchanged a bunch of words, and now we’re figuring things out.”

  “What does that mean? Figuring things out how?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s really not, though. It’s always been simple, and you two just make it complicated.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He laces his hands behind his head. “He’s been in love with you since you were kids. He just didn’t know how to love you without taking over your entire world, or letting you take over his. He needed you to be strong enough to put him in his place, and you are, which means things are finally going to be as they should.”

  I stare at him for a few long seconds, waiting to see if he’s going to continue or not. “Have you been reading the Tao of Pooh again or something?”

  “Or something. It’s been infuriating, fascinating, and damn well annoying watching you two screw up this year. I mean, mostly it’s been Kody fucking shit up and you sitting back and letting it happen, but man, it’s nice to see you wearing your lady balls with pride.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “He’s not yet forgiven for all the crap he’s pulled.”

  BJ inclines his head, half acknowledgment, half consideration. “Kody is the best at punishing himself, Lavender. You don’t have to forgive him quickly, but don’t throw all his mistakes back in his face when he makes new ones. He’ll carry that guilt for the rest of his life if you let him.”

  I nod. Kodiak wears his mistakes like scars that scratch up his insides. “I know better than to do that to him.”

  BJ smiles, and there’s something wistful in it. “It must be kind of messed up to have found your soul mate before you even understood what it meant.” He ruffles my hair and pushes out of his chair. “I gotta head to class.”

  I check the time. It’s still early but I can head to the theater, so I gather my things and leave with BJ.

  After I finish up at the theater, I check my phone. I have a message from Kodiak telling me he’s been thinking about me all day. He doesn’t elaborate, but I’m 1000 percent sure I know what he means.

  I also have a message from River saying he’s out for the night, but to text or call if I need anything. He’s been doing that a lot lately—the not coming home part. So has Maverick, but that’s not entirely unusual. Regardless, it means I won’t have a chance to talk to him about Kodiak, since it isn’t something I’m interested in doing over the phone.

  I do, however, fill my mom in on the fact that I’ve moved back into the house with my brothers and tell her not to worry about Kodiak because I can totally hold my own. Thankfully she had yet to mention the dorms to my dad, so that was one freak-out neither of us had to deal with. I also drop a mention of the summer internship opportunity, but blow it off as unlikely since I’m only a sophomore and they pretty much always take juniors or seniors. But, I tell her, it doesn’t hurt to submit an application so I’m familiar with the process. She agrees.

  Before I can change my mind, I stop by my professor’s office and let her know I’d like to apply so she can send me the forms.

  It’s after six by the time I get home. Maverick, BJ, and Quinn are sitting in front of the TV playing video games, a mostly empty pizza box on the table in front of them.

  Maverick looks up for a second but doesn’t bother to pause. I sort of expected an immediate confrontation of some kind. Instead, he goes back to furiously pounding on the controller. “There’s a nondescript black package on the counter from Gigi.”

  “Awesome.” I cut through the living room. Obviously she ignored my mom’s request to stop sending me sex-positive items.

  “Wanna grab me a beer?” Mav calls.

  “Me too!” BJ adds.

  “You all have legs. Why can’t you get your own beers?” I drop my backpack on the kitchen island and check out the black bag on the counter with a set of cherries on it. So discreet. I tuck it in my backpack so I can open it later, when I’m in the privacy of my own room.

  I pull three bottles from the beer fridge. It’s actually supposed to be for wine, but no one in this house is sophisticated enough to drink that, so it’s filled with beer and random girly coolers that I sometimes drink.

  I take a few deep breaths, prepared for Maverick to come in here and say something about the whole Kodiak thing, but BJ pops his head in instead. He yells something toward the living room about wanting a snack.

  “Who’s telling Mav?” he asks as he opens the pantry door and grabs two bags of chips from the top shelf.

  I had no idea they were there because I’d have to stand on a freaking chair to be able to see them. “Kodiak.”

  BJ arches a brow. “When’s that happening?”

  I shrug. “I figured he would’ve said something by now.”

  “Kody disappeared into his room as soon as he got home, and Mav seems oblivious as usual, so I’m gonna go ahead and surmise that’s not the case.”

  I cross my arms, annoyed. “Well, I’m not going to be the one to tell him.”

  BJ snorts a laugh. “Might wanna give your boy some incentive, then.”

  “My boy.” I roll my eyes. “You’re going to have a field day with this, aren’t you?”

  “Hell, yeah. I’ve been waiting years for this to go down. I can’t wait to see River flip his lid.”

  I grab my bag and head for the stairs, but before I get far, BJ pulls me into a wiry hug. “But seriously, Lav, you two belong together and always have.”

  I climb the stairs, my stomach flipping with a mixture of anxiety, irritation, and anticipation. I pause on the first landing and pull the black package out, tearing into it. There’s a gift note inside.

  I pull out the item meant to make me feel better and stare at it. I have always loved Marvel and DC Comics movies. They’re my favorite. It’s probably because my mom always had a weird thing about superheroes and passed it down to me. So I should not be shocked that I’m holding an Aquaman dildo. And yet I am. Being the thoughtful, inappropriate gigi that she is, it also includes cleansing wipes and lube. Not like she hasn’t sent me that stuff a dozen times before.

  I climb the rest of the stairs and pause in front of Kodiak’s room. I’m annoyed that he hasn’t said anything to Maverick yet, especially since they had practice this afternoon and he should have had plenty of opportunity to pull him aside.

  I consider the pick-me-up gift Gigi gave me, the conversation Kodiak and I had in the car on the way to campus this morning, and BJ’s incentive idea. Before I lose my nerve, I turn the knob—surprised his door isn’t locked—and push it open a couple of inches.

  Kodiak is sitting at his computer desk, his back to me, wearing headphones and bent over a textbook, pen poised in his left hand as he awkwardly tries to write without smearing the text. Being a lefty is a pain in th
e ass.

  I slip into the room and close the door behind me, flipping the lock. I take a moment to check out his room, having never been inside since he moved in here. Everything is tidy and organized, bed neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly, the top of the comforter folded down, the flat sheet tucked tightly under the mattress. I bet it has hospital corners. It’s almost like he’s military trained, even though he’s not.

  But what steals my breath are the pieces of old art that hang on the walls. My art from when I was a kid—most of it splatter-painted silliness. On the desk beside him is the ratty, old pencil case I made when I was ten. I was so proud of that thing. I stitched the infinity symbol right into the black fabric in thread the same color as his eyes.

  The music is so loud, I can hear it from across the room. He needs that sometimes to drown out all the other stuff that happens in his head. His heel bounces on the floor, and I can feel his anxiety from across the room. He always dealt with it so much differently than I did. Hockey is both a cure and a cause for him.

  He tosses his pencil on the desk, and his fists clench and release three times. He clasps his hands behind his head and both knees start bouncing as he breathes. I count his inhale and exhale. In for four, out for eight, eight times in a row. His shoulders curl in, and he unlocks his hands on a low groan. He grabs for the mouse and double clicks. The screen flickers, and he quickly types in a password. A few seconds later, he opens a folder and hovers the cursor over an image. He remains that way for several long seconds before he finally clicks on it.

  I appear on the screen.

  It’s a still shot of me sitting outside by the pool, wearing a huge hat and a cover up, while reading a book under an umbrella. Me and the sun have a love-hate relationship. Based on what I’m wearing and reading, it must have been taken at the beginning of the semester. One of his hands drops to his lap.

  There’s a distinct possibility he’s going to whack off to a very PG and fully clothed picture of me reading a book, if I don’t make my presence known.

  That changes drastically the way I approach this situation and him. He has a second study table in his room that’s home to some kind of project. It’s the only part of his room that isn’t perfectly neat. Among pieces of PVC piping and a bunch of tools is a roll of duct tape.

  I nab it before I cross over to his desk and drop my bag next to his textbook, scaring the shit out of him. He scrambles to remove his earbuds—they’re wireless, so he drops one on the floor.

  “Lavender? Holy shit. How long have you been in here? It’s not what it looks like.”

  I glance down at his lap. He’s wearing gray jogging pants—why are they always gray?—and his erection strains against the fabric.

  “Really? Because it looked like you were about to jerk off to that picture of me.”

  He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, likely trying to come up with an excuse. “I was taking a study break.”

  I snort a laugh. “How often have I been the focus of your study breaks, Kodiak?”

  “Probably more than you should,” he admits.

  “I see.” I free a strip of duct tape, the zip ridiculously loud.

  “What’re you doing?” His voice holds equal parts curiosity and anxiety.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On your personal restraint, and whether or not you think you can keep your hands to yourself. How in control are you right now?”

  His pale, vibrant green gaze meets mine, wide with want, and he grips the armrests. “Not very.”

  “Hmm, I should probably help with that, then, shouldn’t I?”

  He nods. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths as I wrap the tape around his wrist. I have no idea what I’m doing, apart from reclaiming the power balance in this fucked-up relationship we seem to have. I tear a second strip free and secure his other wrist to the chair.

  I wonder if duct-taping my future boyfriend to his computer chair so I can jill off on him without him putting his hands on me is going to be a thing for us. He seems into it.

  Not that I don’t want them on me, but he needs to deal with Maverick, and I’m still pissed that he’s been a dick this year.

  I lift my gaze to his. “Are you anxious?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  He shrugs, as though he’s not entirely sure.

  “Have I ever hurt you?”

  His brow furrows. “No.”

  “Have you ever hurt me?”

  He closes his eyes, and his full, perfect lips press together. “Yes.”

  “On purpose?”

  His lids lift, and there’s pain swimming behind his eyes. “Only because I didn’t think there was any other way to keep you safe from me.”

  “You were always trying to save me.” I give in and stroke his cheek, gently, exactly the way he used to do to me when we were young and loved each other in the simple, untainted way innocent soul mates do. His eyes slide closed, and his whole body shudders.

  I drop my hand and rummage inside my bag. I’d say I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I can, because I did it yesterday.

  Except I’m taking it to a whole different level of messed up this time around. I pull out the Aquaman-inspired pleasure toy and the lube.

  “What is that?” He sounds appropriately confused.

  “A gift from Gigi.”

  “Oh fuck.” Realization dawns, and it’s laced with excitement.

  I set it on his lap. If he’s aware I’m not nearly as confident as I’m pretending to be, he doesn’t let on. And regardless of how awful he’s been over the past couple of months, I know I’m safe with him.

  And sometimes I hate him for that. Because it’s made loving anyone else impossible. Not that I’ve tried very hard.

  Kodiak’s knees are parted, so I slide the Aqua-D, complete with balls—just like the one from last night, minus the suction base—between his legs. I tear a strip of duct tape free with my teeth and tap his thigh. “Knees together.”

  He complies, no questions asked, probably because he knows where this is going and like me, he’s fucked up enough to want it.

  I tear off a couple extra strips of tape and fix them on either side of Aqua-D’s base to hold it in place. This means I tape over Kodiak’s actual cock, which twitches and strains behind the gray fabric.

  I caress his cheek again. “You okay? Do you need me to stop? Because I can.” And I mean it. I want to tease him, not maim him.

  “No. I’m okay.” He shakes his head, his voice choked with excitement.

  I step back and pull my shirt over my head. Reaching behind me, I unclasp my bra and let it fall to the floor.

  “Oh shit.” Kodiak’s fists clench and release as if he wants to be able to reach out and touch me.

  The power is heady, overwhelming and addicting.

  I slide my pants and underwear over my hips and kick them off.

  Kodiak’s gaze runs over my body, feral and needy. I grip his forearms and straddle his lap. It’s not particularly comfortable. He has hockey thighs, and they take up most of the chair, so my shins rest against the metal bars that attach the armrest to the seat. But I’m not stopping now.

  Kodiak angles his head down and nuzzles into my neck, his groan plaintive and desperate. His lips part, and his warm, wet tongue swipes over my skin. He mutters oh my God, burrowing in, trying to bow forward enough so he can shove his face in my boobs.

  I slide my hands under his shirt and push it up, exposing his cut abs and defined chest. Kodiak pushes himself to the very limit of his capabilities in every single facet of his life. And it’s clear he’s worked incredibly hard on his body in order to excel at hockey.

  If I’d planned this better, I would have taken his shirt off before I duct-taped him to the chair. Since I can’t do that now, I pull the front over his head, the material stretching across the back of his neck and cutting into his shoulders.

  I run my fingers
through his hair, taming the mess. He leans in, as if he’s about to kiss me, and I grip the strands gently. I shake my head, our lips almost touching. “You said you were going to talk to Mav.”

  “I am. I will. I’m going to.” His breath is warm and sweet, like he’s been sucking on a watermelon Jolly Rancher. He used to eat them all the time when we were kids and share them with me, but not anyone else—little gifts that meant nothing and everything.

  I don’t ask any more questions. Instead, I wait for him to offer the information I want.

  “We have a game tomorrow, and we’re playing on the same line. It’s our biggest rival team, and I don’t want to mess it up, so I was planning to talk to him after.”

  “Are you nervous?” I keep running my fingers through his silky hair, watching the strands sweep back over his forehead.

  “About telling him?” His legs bounce, and I shift forward, my breasts hitting his chest.

  “And the game.” I trace an infinity symbol on the side of his neck, I can almost taste his watermelon Jolly Rancher I’m so close to his lips.

  “Yes and yes. We’ve lost to them once already this year, and I don’t want that to happen again. And Maverick is my teammate and my best friend; I don’t want to lose that either. But you’re integral to the fabric of my existence in a way that he’s not, and I feel like I’ve been sitting out in space for the past seven years without a sun to circle.”

  I nod, and the tips of our noses brush with the movement, because I understand now, in a way I couldn’t have before yesterday, exactly how much this has tortured him. Even with all the pain he’s caused, I can see why he felt it was necessary.

  “We’re a little fucked up, aren’t we?”

  “Everyone’s fucked up, Lavender. We just happen to be the right kind of fucked up for each other.” He exhales a tremulous breath. “I’m sorry for all the ways I hurt us.”

  His words are loaded, an apology that carries the weight and burden of years of guilt and absence.

  I tilt his head down and press my lips to his forehead. “I know you are.”

  I stay like that for a few moments, appreciating the calm it brings, despite how messed up this entire scenario happens to be—this heart-to-heart while I’m naked and he’s duct-taped to his computer chair.