Everything but the Truth

by Mandy Hubbard

  “So what?”

  “Something sweet.”

  I can’t help the grin that overtakes my face. “You’re a cheeseball.”

  He steps in, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and squeezing me close. I lean against him, enjoying his embrace before stepping back.

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you win.”

  “Pull in here,” I direct Malik two hours later. I point to the Chevron station coming up on our right and lean down to grab my purse off the floorboard.

  He’s clearly decided to sit back and see where the night takes us because he obediently pulls into the station, stopping against the curb and putting the car in park.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I dash into the store, spend another five dollars, and when I come back out, I toss my purse back onto the floorboard of Malik’s car. It’s only then that I wonder if my next move will damage his car in any way, but it’s too late to pull back.

  “Um, pop the trunk, I guess.”

  When he sees me open up the block ice chest near the door to the station and pull out two blocks, he gets out and takes them from my hands, tossing them into the trunk of his hundred-thousand-dollar car as if it totally doesn’t matter if we drive around town with them melting in the back.

  “That way,” I say, pointing to the right as we pull out.

  Five minutes later, we’re pulling into Gasworks Park.

  We climb out and get the ice, then walk to a grassy knoll not far from the car.

  “So . . . are we opening a shaved ice stand, or . . . ?”

  I grin triumphantly, and his expression slides from teasing to concern.

  “Um, why am I suddenly worried?” he asks.

  “Set the ice there,” I say, and point to the very peak of the hill.

  When he does, I rip into the bag, setting the block near the edge of the slope. Then I use the bag itself to cover the top of the ice. “Okay, there you go. Climb aboard.”

  He stares at me. “You want me to sit on a block of ice.”

  “Yep. You shouldn’t get your pants wet or anything. The plastic will protect you.”

  “And what do you suppose I do then?”

  “Ride it.”

  He narrows his eyes, glancing between the block and the hill. “You want me to do what?”

  “It’s like sledding. But a summer version.”

  He gapes at the block of ice as if it’s a UFO. “There’s no way that’s a thing.”

  “Oh, it’s a thing. Trust me on that.” I grin.

  “Are you sure this isn’t going to kill me?”

  I tip my head to the side, popping my hand on my hip. “Are you sure you’re not averse to having fun?”

  “Oh, I’m fine with a little fun,” he says, glancing up from the ice block. “But I’m talking roller coasters. Jet Skiing. Snowboarding. But this . . .”

  “Oh, come on,” I tease. “Live a little.”

  “You’ve done this?”

  I nod. “Yes. And I’m going to today, too. That’s why we have two blocks of ice. But you lost, which means you have to go first.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s not going to kill you. You can trust me. It’s fun.”

  “Then why is it a punishment for the loser?”

  “Because it’s more terrifying if you’ve never seen anyone else do it first,” I say, grinning wider. I love that he’s so thrown. So out of his comfort zone.

  There’s something very gratifying about a guy who practically owns the world looking so uncomfortable in it.

  His jaw drops. “You set me up! You knew I’d lose. And if I didn’t, it’s not much of a punishment for you, is it?”

  I bite my lower lip and look away, trying to fight a smile or find a way to deny what he’s saying, but I can’t. Because, yes, today was about messing with him, pushing him, forcing him to see the world through someone else’s eyes.

  He walks over and wraps his arms around me, spinning me in a playful circle. “I’ll forgive you,” he says, “but we do this together.”

  “I don’t know, you kind of agreed.”

  “And you kind of tricked me,” he says. “So, can we call it even?”

  “Fine, crybaby,” I say, stooping down to rip open the bag on the other block of ice. I position it a couple of feet from his, both blocks sitting lengthwise. “Just to warn you, though . . . it’s kind of hard to steer.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Like maybe impossible. You just gotta be okay with the fact that you’re going to crash at some point.”

  He frowns, staring down at the block. “Did you grow up around here? I feel like this is from, like, Honey Boo Boo or something.”

  “It’s not from some redneck show. It’s just what high school people do when they have too much time on their hands and not your kind of budget. Sit on the ice.”

  “Four words I never thought I’d hear from my girlfriend,” he jokes, following my instructions.

  I sit down beside him, straddling the block of ice and belatedly remembering just how fast the chill seeps through a pair of jeans. “Okay, ready?”

  “I was born ready,” he says.

  I raise a brow. “I bet the only time you’ve been sledding was in, like, Vail or Whistler or something. Probably using sleds plated in gold.”

  “They were plastic.”

  “Was it Vail or Whistler?”

  I know he wants to deny it, but he just shakes his head. “Vail.”

  “Yeah. So, anyway, this is different.”

  “Okay, then,” he says, taking a deep breath. By his expression you’d think he just jumped on a bull, not a block of ice. “I’m ready.”

  “Right. One,” I say, my heart rate spiking. “Two . . .”

  “Three,” he says, and we shove off.

  The first moment is always the worst. As we crest the edge of the hill, a dozen thoughts run through my mind, including that this might be the biggest hill in the history of the universe. But mostly that we might die and everyone in this entire country will blame me for killing the richest, most attractive boy I’ve ever met.

  Then the blocks steady out, and relief whooshes through me as we pick up speed.

  “Holy . . . ,” he says.

  I think I’m screaming or shrieking or laughing or some weird combination of all three as we hit the halfway point, the wind whistling past our ears. If he says anything after that, it’s impossible to hear.

  We slide over a small knoll halfway down the main slope, and it throws off my balance. I reach out to grab him, but his ice has angled away, the gap between us widening.

  Then he’s going down backward as his block spins around and slides back in my direction, colliding with mine.

  We tip off our blocks, his body tumbling down the hill over mine, until all our limbs are intertwined. He lands on top of me, his elbows propped up to keep from crushing me.

  I giggle, staring up into his eyes, taking in the sparkle there . . . the life.

  “That . . . was . . . amazing,” he says. “And terrifying. Let’s never do it again.”

  I laugh and am about to wiggle out from under him when he leans down, brushing his lips against mine.

  At that very moment, I know I’m in love with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “You are not going to believe this!” Alex screams into my ear.

  I yank my phone away, my ear ringing, and blink. I’ve been on the couch for the last two hours, staring at the ceiling and daydreaming about Malik. Daydreaming about him has practically become my full-time job. I must have zonked out or something because the ringing phone, and then Alex’s scream, just brought me back into the real world.

  “Uh, Holly?” her voice sounds tinny with the phone removed from my ear.

  “Sorry,” I say, putting the phone back up to my ear. “I thought maybe my brain exploded from the frequency with which you just screamed. Um, what am I not going to believe?”

  “My mom will kill me
if I try to come over because she’s been cooking all evening. You know, slaving away all day over a hot stove, blah blah blah, guilt trip, guilt trip. So get over here right now and I’ll show you. I want to see your face when you see it.”

  “Um, what are you showing me?”

  “Just get here now. I promise it will be worth it.”

  She immediately hangs up like she knows I can’t resist the mystery. Which I can’t. I groan and sit up, wondering if the couch cushions have a Holly-shaped indent in them yet, and go to find my keys.

  Fifteen minutes later, I pull to a stop at the curb. I’m reaching toward the passenger side floorboard to grab my purse when something slams into my window, and I jump so hard my seatbelt—still buckled—bites into my neck.

  Alex is standing just outside my door, pressing something against the window. I open my mouth to yell at her for startling me, but then I look at what she’s holding against the glass.

  US Weekly.

  It’s the same feature I saw Malik in two weeks ago, that stupid “Stars: They’re Just Like Us” one. Except this time, he’s at the mall, his arm slung over a girl’s shoulder as he beams at her, and she’s smiling back.

  Holy moly.

  It’s me.

  “Let me see that up close,” I say, clicking Alex’s bedroom door shut. My heart is thudding in my chest so hard, I can barely breathe. I’m in a magazine. I don’t even know how they got this picture. It’s not like that lady at the mall looked like a professional—she was using her cell phone. I certainly didn’t see flashes or paparazzi or whatever. Aren’t they supposed to be obvious? Big groups of guys with giant lenses on their cameras, shouting people’s names?

  “Get your own,” she says, waving her hand at me to keep me at bay.

  My jaw drops. “Alex! Obviously, I didn’t buy one, considering I didn’t know I was in it!”

  She reaches over to her desk, yanking open the drawer with a big screech and pulling out another magazine. She flings it in my direction, her eyes still trained on the page.

  “You bought more than one?”

  “My best friend is in it! Of course I did.”

  For a second I hardly move. My best friend. She still considers me her best friend.

  I realize she’s staring at me, clearly waiting for me to take a closer look at the picture So I flip to the page, but before I can read the tiny text on the side, Alex does for me.

  “Malik Buchannan and a mysterious, dark-haired girl cruise a Seattle shopping mall. Who is the lucky girl?”

  “This is stupid,” I say, my finger gliding across the glossy page. “Who even gives a crap about him hanging out with me? This isn’t even a story.”

  “These magazines have to create stories out of thin air. It’s what they do.”

  “Since when are you TMZ’s biggest fan?”

  “You can’t be that surprised. Golden boy dropped off the radar for months, and people figured he was settling down or decided to become a monk or something. And then bam, they find him in Seattle, and you’re with him? It’s totally a story.”

  “Ugh, it shouldn’t be.”

  “Oh, come on, you’re with the richest dude under thirty in this entire country, and he’s freaking hot to boot. Of course people are obsessed. Now you’re a part of that.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Frame it?”

  I roll my eyes. “This is bad. If people do some digging, they’re going to find out my name. And then Malik will find out the truth, and the summer fling he’s supposed to think back on with fond memories is going to seem more like a nightmare. He trusts me, Alex.”

  Her eyes widen, and she glances between me and the magazine again, as if picturing the headline. “Oh. Crap. You’re right.” She plunks down in her desk chair. “I totally did not think of that. Um, yikes?”

  “Yes, yikes!”

  “Maybe you two just need to keep things on the down low. Casual dates.”

  “I kind of thought hanging out at Pike Place Market qualified as casual. We spent a total of ten dollars and were in a big crowd of normal people.”

  “I meant, like, in less public places, you know? Although I guess I didn’t really expect paparazzi to be hitting up the market, either. Maybe it’s not even paparazzi. Maybe regular people sent them this picture. Everyone has cameras, so . . .”

  “Exactly! And if we can’t even go somewhere as simple as the market, what do we do? It’s not like I can invite him over for a movie!” I pause, the full implication of my lie hitting me. “Hi, Malik, I’m not at all the girl you thought I was—I didn’t even tell you my real name! Check out this fantastic tiny little apartment we can hang out in! It just happens to be inside the retirement home where your grandfather lives! Isn’t it just your dream come true?”

  “Whoa, calm down,” Alex says, pursing her lips and trying not to laugh.

  “Well, I have to do something. Or I’m going to end up as some fabled mystery girl in every issue of this freaking magazine until they figure out who I am, and then it’s all over.”

  “I’m sure there are other options.” She screws her lips to the side, deep in thought. “What about the drive-in? As long as you stay inside the car, no one would even notice he’s there. Plus, steamy make-out sessions.”

  “His car does not blend in. And I can’t keep using yours for everything. You don’t even have tinted windows. And what if he needed to go use a restroom or wanted snacks? It’s a no-go.”

  “Okay, so why not just go to his house?” Alex spins her desk chair around, propping her feet up on the desk and crossing them at the ankles. I don’t know how she can be so casual about this.

  “We do,” I say, slapping the magazine shut and sliding it away from me. “But it’s not like I can invite myself over there all the time. People do that, you know. They’re curious what it looks like and really just want to come over for a tour. He’ll think I’m one of those people if I just keep saying I want to go to his place.”

  “Okay, um, you could go do something with his grandpa. Use Sunrise House as your cover. There’s no way paparazzi hang out at that place.”

  “They might, if they figure out Charles Buchannan lives there. And besides, I’m supposed to stay away from him. And everyone at Sunrise House knows my name is Holly. I managed to come up with a cover story about loving holidays, but it’ll fall apart eventually.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh, flopping down on her bed, staring up at the funky sticker jewels Alex and I stuck up there on the ceiling in the ninth grade. “I don’t know. Maybe I should just end it now. Before he finds out the truth.”

  “You’re really going to stick with the plan? You’re going to end it when you go away to college?”

  “Yes. I think. Just thinking about it fills me with dread. But if he finds out I’ve been lying all this time, it could totally set him back. He has a hard time trusting people as it is.” I blow out another a sigh. “And he ditched people in the past, when he realized they had ulterior motives for being around him.”

  “You don’t have ulterior motives, though,” she points out. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”

  “I know, but does it matter? It’s still lying.” I frown. “I don’t deserve a guy like him.”

  Alex stares at me, like she’s reading between everything I said. “Oh my god, you’re totally falling for him, aren’t you?”

  “What?” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “That’s ridiculous. We just met, like, five or six weeks ago.”

  But her expression doesn’t change. She just keeps staring at me, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  Because I’m not ready to say it aloud. I’m not ready to openly acknowledge the truth.

  I furrow my brow. “He’s amazing, okay? Completely and totally amazing and unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Okay, then. What you need to do is to wait for him to be in love with you. Wait for him to see you for who you reall
y are. And then when you tell him, he’ll know you had the right intentions and will forgive you. And then you won’t have to break up with him.”

  I study the spot on the ceiling where the fading sunlight reflects off the biggest fake jewel sticker, a bright pink one in the center. “Or waiting for him to fall for me just means I will really, really hurt him when he learns the truth.”

  “I mean, I know you—you would never in a million years intentionally lie or hurt anyone. He’ll see that. He’ll know you didn’t mean for this to happen. And then you can explain why you did it, and he’ll get it. He’ll be able to see that it wasn’t malicious.”

  “I guess that’s not a bad plan,” I say, warming up to the idea that maybe this thing doesn’t have to be a fling. That maybe I can tell him the truth and he won’t find my tiny lie such a big deal. That he won’t think I’m just like everyone else in his life.

  “It’s a fantastic plan,” Alex says, her voice laced with satisfaction, as if she just solved world hunger. “So . . . can I, like, frame this?”

  I pick up the pillow on her bed and hurl it at her face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Twenty minutes later, I’m standing on the porch at Alex’s house, her car key in one hand and my phone in the other, pressed to my ear.

  When Malik picks up, it’s all I can do to keep my heart from doing a silly little jig. “Hey, you,” he says.

  “Hey. Want to hang out?”

  “Sure,” he says. “I just got home from the office, but I can come over.”

  “I’m not at home,” I say. At least it’s not a lie. “I’m closer to your house than mine. I can swing by, and then maybe we can decide what to do with ourselves?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Cool. See you then.”

  I hang up the phone, then turn around and open the front door, sticking my head in. “I’ll have it back in a few hours, okay?” I holler up the stairs.

  “Sure, whatever!” Alex says.

  “Thanks!”

  In my eagerness to see Malik, I slam the door a little too hard. Then I dash across the lawn and slip into the driver’s seat of Alex’s car.