Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1)

by Blake Blessing

  That was cold. And I didn’t even know what happened. It also didn’t sound like a smart thing to say. Rhys must have agreed with me because his shoulders tensed, right before his head whipped around to face Trey.

  “What the fuck, man? You’re going to pin this on me? Some fucking cousin you are.” Rhys practically shouted at Trey.

  “What does cousins have to do with this? It. Was. Your. Fault. You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in business that wasn’t yours. I’d be pissed at you too.” Trey kicked an antique looking wooden chair.

  “Fuck off. You’re just like him. I can’t stand either of you. Why are you still here?” Rhys growled.

  “Like I have anywhere to go, dickhead.” Trey snorted, but it was an ugly sound.

  “Not to live. I mean here right now, right this second in my breathing space. Go in the house. Get away from me.” Rhys tossed a handful of something that clinked in the bag.

  “Whatever, I was trying to help you. You can do it your own damn self.” Trey started to walk our way and I crouched down.

  That was close. His shadow darkened the window but after a few minutes, a door slammed on the other side of the cottage, followed by the door of the main house. I let two whole, torturous minutes pass before I was confident enough to peek inside again.

  Rhys was in a different spot now, his shoulders hunched in on himself. Every arrogant and mean thought I’d ever had toward Rhys suddenly seemed sour in my stomach. Since the day of the pep rally, I’d been secretly envious of this perfect guy. He was the popular boy. The one everyone wanted. With hockey and his family money, he’d be able to go to any school he wanted. It never occurred to me that he would be in a similar prison. It softened the heart I had been trying so hard to harden.

  My eyes widened when he turned his head. He had a shiner from hell. Already. And that was assuming it just happened. He hadn’t had it at school yesterday, anyway.

  “It’s time to go,” Beck whispered in my hair.

  I shook my head no. How could I leave right now? He looked devastated. Even if he didn’t know I was here, he wouldn’t be alone. Sometimes that was what I hated the most. Being alone when I was upset or hurting from things my parents did or said.

  I raised my camera to capture this heartbreaking moment of the star hockey player beaten and broken on the floor, cleaning up the mess of his parent. Several clicks later, Beck poked me again and gave me big eyes.

  Ugh. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay and see what Rhys would do, maybe get a few more pictures. Beck had a point though. We were trespassing, and we could be in a lot of trouble if we were caught. Maybe not me, since they knew my dad, but Beck could be. And the self-righteous air his dad gave off, he would totally take it out on Beck. I couldn’t let that happen to him.

  Beck stared at me expectantly and I nodded, I just wanted to get one more glimpse of Rhys. When I turned around, Rhys was standing at the window staring down at me. A sneer on his face and fury in his eyes.

  Damn. Tonight wasn’t my night. At. All.

  Should I run for it?

  Beck looked athletic, I was sure he could keep up. And at the moment, I was insanely happy there was a glass pane between us. It gave us more of a head start. He’d have to go through the little cottage—granted it wasn’t big—before he’d be outside to really chase us. We could hide in a neighbor’s yard until then.

  I reached out and caught Beck’s hand and squeezed, letting him know I had a plan.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Rhys braced his hands on the windowsill and bent down. Surprisingly, he was more intimidating up close and personal. “I know where you live, Astrid.” It hadn’t bothered me before, but now that he was talking to me, he sounded muffled, like he was underwater.

  Beck laughed humorlessly. “He’s right, Astrid. We’re caught, like I was afraid of.”

  This had to be the worst end to my perfect night. Damn me, and my peeping Tom tendencies.

  As the seconds ticked by, I ping ponged between Beck and Rhys. They both stood completely still, waiting for me. Resigned to my fate I tried to smile at Rhys, but I was pretty sure I looked like Trey tried to shake my hand with his dick.

  “Come around to the front and come in.” He left the window to probably unlock the door. I sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that I hadn’t just blackballed myself at school.

  We didn’t bother with stealth mode as we made our way around the house. There was no need now.

  The door was already open with a no-nonsense Rhys in the way. If he ever looked like an angry Ragnor, it was now. His light blond hair glowed from the light behind him, also casting his face in shadows. I definitely wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley, or a little cottage in the middle of the night.

  Beck gave me a little push, so I went in first. The entry was just as trashed as the living room, and standing inside it was like entering a battle zone after a gruesome fight. What happened here?

  Rhys walked ahead of us after he locked the door and motioned for us to sit on the couch. It was out of place, because it was pulled away from the wall, but we did as he wanted anyway. He flipped over a chair in front of us and took his own seat.

  I decided I wasn’t going to speak until I had to, so I studied the room instead. Actually, it was more like I didn’t want to look Rhys in the eye after getting caught spying on him. The place smelled nice, like some kind of warm citrusy scent. They probably had lemon plug ins around here somewhere. The end table closest to me seemed like a good place to stare. It was one of those really nice mahogany tables, all sleek with chrome handles. Modern. There were also deep grooves etched into the top like something had landed on it and slid off.

  I’d never been in a place so soon after a fight like this and seeing all the damage, it scared me.

  “So… I was waiting for you to start, but it’s clear you aren’t going to. Why are you here?” He leaned his elbows on his knees and focused all of his intense Ragnor self on me.

  Not Beck. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge Beck was with me. I glanced to the side to make sure Beck had followed me in. Shew. He had. I would have kicked his butt if he tried to leave me.

  My brain said stall, but I had no idea how to do that. I could flash him. If I showed him boobs would he forget about me hanging out under his window? I squinted at him, trying to read his vibes. No, I didn’t think he’d fall for the boobage.

  He seemed much too in control of his horny teenage desires for that. I might as well tell the truth. At least enough so he doesn’t flip out.

  “We were in my bedroom and we saw your dad’s car race out of the driveway. It worried me so we came over to check it out.” I still had that cringe on my face but at least my voice sounded normal.

  “Uh huh.” He looked at Beck. “And who are you?” He did his own bit of squinting, only it looked sexy and intimidating on him. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Beck scratched the back of his head again. That had to be his thing. I’d seen him do it several times even in the short time I’d known him. “I work at Tacky’s in town. You might have dropped your dad’s car off for an oil change before.”

  He conveniently left out he was in a band. But maybe that was to seem less important than what he was? Or he might not identify as a musician, seeing himself as a poser.

  “Yeah, I’ve done that before. I’d almost believe your story, except for the camera you’re holding in your hand. Why were you taking pictures of me?” His voice turned deadly and the hair stood up on the back of my neck.

  I didn’t believe he would actually hurt me, but sitting in a destroyed house, staring at a guy with a pretty bad black eye, was not helping to calm me down.

  “She takes pictures. That’s her thing.” Beck supplied as he turned to me. “I thought you said you knew this guy? That you were supposed to meet him at the party?”

  Eeep. Rhys would know this was a lie, regardless if he asked about me or not. And it also made me out to be a crazy desperate ch
ick, lying about the extent of my nonexistent relationship with Rhys. Those kinds of girls were psycho, and I resented it, but I put myself in this position.

  Rhys’ eyebrows shot up and then furrowed again. Who knew what he was thinking? I knew what I was and that was bad enough.

  “I may have said you were supposed to be at the party earlier. I don’t think I said we were meeting. It was really so Beck would want to come with me.” Now it looked like I lied to Beck to get what I wanted, when really, it was more of an offhand half-true comment. I was really winning tonight.

  He threw his hands up in the air. “I would have come with you no matter what. I wouldn’t allow you to get arrested.”

  I wanted to slide down in the deep cushions since I felt about two inches tall.

  Choosing to avoid that whole topic, Rhys went somewhere else equally as horrifying for me.

  “Do you make a habit of creeping around people’s houses at night? Taking pictures when they’re unaware?” He quirked a blond eyebrow.

  I blew a raspberry and adjusted in my seat to get more comfortable. If I had to answer this, I was going to explain and hopefully make him think I was less of a weirdo.

  “You’re making it sound like I stalk people to capture them in compromising positions. That’s not it at all, okay? It’s a… a hobby I guess, to take pictures. And yes, I like people the most, and I’ve also gotten some crazy pictures.” I shouldn’t have admitted that. “But it’s all things I’ve stumbled on. I like photography.” I shrugged, fingering the on and off button of the camera.

  Rhys nodded, then traced one of his brows with an index finger. I watched the movement, mesmerized by the sensuality of the action. Now would be a perfect time to take a picture, but I was pretty sure he would frown on that.

  “Then why were you taking pictures of me?” He repeated.

  Damn. I was hoping he would forget about that and we could quietly slip into the night.

  “Would you believe it was an artistic shot?” I arranged my face into a pained smile.

  “No. It’s an invasion of privacy.” He leaned back and spread his legs while crossing his arms. He was the picture of vibrant masculinity. The real one, not the posers from the pep rally.

  Where’s a fan when I needed one? It was suddenly a hundred degrees in here.

  “So maybe that wasn’t my most shining moment. I’m a sucker for candid emotional scenes.”

  A curtain of anger descended over his face as he glared at me.

  I get it, emotion isn’t your thing.

  “Let’s see them.” He bit out.

  I turned on the camera and took a quick look through the few pictures I was able to capture. He wasn’t quite in profile, but it wasn’t his back either. He was hunched, defeated. Sitting in the center of domestic destruction, possibly wondering why it all had to come to this. At least, that was what the picture said to me. When I glanced up, he was watching me, his right eye almost completely swollen shut.

  I got up and moved to his side, kneeling by his legs. Beck moved like he was going to get up, but in the end stayed sitting on the crooked couch. Rhys’ leg was warm against my side. His gaze burned into the side of my head as I turned away from him so we could both look at the pictures the same time. There were three in total. All virtually the same, except for little nuances here and there in the twist of his shoulder and the tilt of his head. I loved them, even knowing I shouldn’t have taken them.

  “I’ll delete them.” I sighed. I barely touched the delete button when he stopped me with his hand on my wrist.

  Goosebumps erupted along the arm he was touching and when I glanced up, our faces inches apart. Good grief, he was gorgeous. His nose was slightly crooked, probably from some outrageous hockey fight. Intense ice blue eyes that looked like they held the secrets to the universe. And slightly disheveled hair that begged me to run my fingers through it.

  “That’s a great moment you two are having.” Beck commented.

  I couldn’t pull my gaze away to see what he was doing, though.

  “You don’t have to delete them. My face isn’t visible, and only someone who really knew me would be able to recognize me in that picture.” He let his fingers slip from my arm.

  “Really?” I beamed. I didn’t believe that was true. He was a stud in SRHS, and I’d wager my… no, not my camera— my good grades that at least half the school would take one look at this and know immediately it was Rhys.

  He traced my mouth with his gaze and smiled. “Yeah. Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

  That killed my rising good mood. Why did these guys have to keep reminding me they were doing me favors? It was really starting to get on my last art loving nerve.

  “Thanks.” I deadpanned.

  Feeling weird sitting at his feet, I moved back to the couch next to Beck. He sent me a questioning look, but I ignored it. He could ask me whatever it was when we left.

  We all stared at each other for a few minutes. I wasn’t quite sure where the conversation was going to take us at this point. He clearly wasn’t going to call the cops. Or his parents. He hadn’t made me delete the photos. Short of asking him what happened here, which I would never do, there was nothing left.

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” Rhys moved back into his sexy pose.

  I blinked. Was he opening this door?

  “Are you offering?” I countered.

  “That depends. How long were you at the window?” A small amount of tension slithered into his voice.

  “We were only there for about five minutes tops, man.” Beck reentered the conversation, sliding an arm around the back of the couch. Rhys watched it but didn’t comment.

  I was sitting forward, so he wasn’t actually touching me, but something about the move seemed territorial.

  “So, you heard?” He prompted.

  He was going to make us say it. Repeat what we heard. I mean, I guessed I’d want to know too, but it didn’t make it any less comfortable.

  “Only Trey saying that it was your fault. That was really about it.” I mumbled, staring past him to the glossy antique china cabinet laying on its side.

  When there wasn’t a response, I looked back at Rhys.

  “So… what happened?” I broke my own rule, but I started it by cracking the proverbial door and feeding my curiosity.

  “Let’s just say, I found out my dad isn’t as faithful as I always thought. And I confronted him about it.” He left no room for any other comments so I merely nodded.

  Beck and I made eye contact, and quickly diverted our gazes. It would be really shitty of us if Rhys thought we were judging him or his family. Little did he know, between my overbearing Bible thumpers, and Beck’s drunk mom, we weren’t in any position to throw stones.

  “I think it’s time I got Astrid back home.” Beck stood, stretching his arms over his head.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a strip of tan flesh below his shirt, but I kept my gaze locked on Rhys.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Rhys got up and moved the formal sitting chair over to the corner of the room.

  “Do you want help straightening this place up?” I offered sheepishly. The set of his shoulders said he wanted to pretend we were standing in the school hallway instead of in the destroyed living room of their guest cottage, but I couldn’t leave without making the offer. The manners beat into me from birth wouldn’t allow it.

  “No. I got myself into this mess, I’ll clean it up. That’s why Trey said it was my fault. Because I confronted him. Trey would have been happy to ignore it for the rest of his life. Hell, he’ll happily follow in my father’s footsteps.” He spat bitterly.

  “You did what you thought was right. There’s nothing wrong with that, and you shouldn’t be punished for speaking your truth.” I stepped closer to him, my voice low. Beck could hear everything, but it gave the illusion of more privacy this way.

  “No one wants the truth. The world is all about the lies.” His words hit me square
in the chest.

  They reverberated around inside my rib cage until they settled over my heart, branding me with their verity.

  My truth, his truth, that wasn’t going to get us anywhere. If we wanted to make it out of this life unscathed, it was all about the lies.

  Fuck, the sun was singeing the hair off the back of my neck. Good thing Thatcher brought the good beer.

  “So, Astrid. How do you know her?” Thatcher leaned a hip against the side of his shitty Corolla. It had definitely seen better days. He might be in a good place now, and he never talked about it, but Thatcher’s childhood wasn’t so different than mine. I could sense it, which was probably why I liked him so much.

  He thought he was being all slick, acting like I hadn’t seen him looking down Astrid’s top last night.

  “I helped her with some car trouble. You?” My voice bounced off the engine as I checked the brake fluid.

  Out of the corner of my eye, he shrugged, taking his time to answer. I’d bet he wanted to keep that little tidbit to himself, but that wouldn’t fly.

  You better answer dickbag, or I’ll put detergent in your windshield fluid.

  “At the college.” His voice was too light, and even if Astrid hadn’t alluded to a damn juicy story, I’d know he was lying out his ass.

  “And?” I straightened, wiping my hands on an oily rag. A cocky smirk teased my lips and he scowled back at me.

  “She’s trying to get a scholarship. Dan asked me to meet her to pass over some stuff. She seems like a nice kid.” His eyes narrowed, daring me to question him.

  “You have no idea what kind of girl she is. And don’t for a second believe that’s all I think happened. I know you well enough now to know it’s not.” I laughed and went back to checking everything over. If nothing else, Thatcher took care of his car. I wished everyone stayed on top of their maintenance like this.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He was actually confused.

  Last night, when I first saw them together, it seemed like they had a history, even if on the short side. But if he had to ask me that, then he didn’t know her at all. Something about that was so deeply satisfying. I turned my head and grinned to myself.