Love and Lies

by Duffey, Jennifer

  Logan turned toward me and mouthed, “What’s wrong, Carissa?”

  I shook my head, clearing away the sudden fuzziness. “What? Oh, nothing’s wrong.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Really, I’m fine, Logan. Promise.” I tried to hide my lie behind a sip of coffee. Fortunately, my best friend picked the exact right moment to show up.

  “Baby girl. How did I know I’d find you here?” Alec’s sweet voice rose over the crowd of people now filling the café. His soft hands grasped my shoulders. Alec’s touch calmed me, grounded me.

  “Because you knew I had a break and figured I needed a pick me up?” I looked over my shoulder to his smiling face. His eyes twinkled with mischief. That was Alec, my troublemaker. The playboy of the three of us.

  “Well, well. Who is this fine-looking man?” He nodded in Eric’s direction.

  When the new guy didn’t flinch at Alec’s obvious flirting, he earned a point in his favor.

  “I’m Eric.”

  “And where are you from, Eric?” Alec walked over and squeezed himself in between Eric and the armrest of the couch.

  “New York City.”

  Alec’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropped slightly. Yeah, I’d been just as surprised. Except, unlike my best friend, I didn’t say anything. He, on the other hand, would dig deeper. It was one of the reasons I loved the guy. Alec had no problem grilling people for information. He was as extroverted as they came.

  “Well, well, well. What a coincidence. Baby girl and I are from the Big Apple as well. Interesting that you seem to have befriended her and Logan. At least, I assume Logan is the reason you found your way into our little group.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh when Eric cleared his throat and looked to Logan, uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn’t sure how to answer, that much was obvious. Logan shrugged. Not much help.

  “Yeah, Logan and I share the same apartment building,” Eric answered.

  Beaux-Artiste was still a relatively new school, all things considered. They’d purchased surrounding apartment complexes rather than build dormitory halls. But the Provost made it clear in the welcome letter that even though we lived didn’t live in traditional university housing they still encouraged interaction between likeminded students. Which was why they controlled who was allowed to rent where. It was their way. I hadn’t minded it so much. But it was odd that Eric managed to get with the musicians. That was one of the more popular buildings.

  I squinted at him. “How did that happen? I mean, the school designates each building for a specific major. So how did you, a dancer, end up with the musicians?” I asked.

  “Not sure. Maybe because I was late enrolling? I requested a single, too. No roommates for me.”

  “You must be a helluva a dancer then. No roommate, different building.” Alec tapped Eric’s knee. “Yeah, they either think you are the best they’ve seen and wanted you to get whatever you wanted or you’re sleeping with someone.”

  Eric choked on the drink he’d just taken. “No. Definitely not sleeping with anyone in registration. All those old gray hairs.” He shivered. “Not really my type. I’m more of an artist kind of guy.” He gave me a pointed look as an unspoken explanation.

  “Artist as in dance, right?” Alec asked.

  I pulled my legs beneath me and settled into the conversation Alec carried. No need to ask any questions. Alec would handle everything.

  “Hmm. Sure. I like all of the arts though. That’s why we’re all here, right?”

  “Yep.” Alec stood from the couch. “Baby girl, what’s your next class?”

  Alec had been calling me baby girl since the day we met.

  “I don’t have anything else until three this afternoon.”

  “Good. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving,” Alec suggested.

  “Logan, you want to come with us? Since we didn’t get much of a chance to talk?” I still wanted to ask him about Eric. While it would have been hard with Alec around, I’d have figured out a way somehow.

  “Why don’t we all go grab something?” He looked at Eric. “You wanna come?”

  The words to rescind Logan’s invitation sat on the tip of my tongue. The little bit of information Alec pulled from Eric added to my wariness. Not to mention his obnoxious flirting. Seriously, as if I didn’t recognize the art line as being directed at me. I hadn’t told him that’s what I was here for, but I was sure Logan had.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Eric nodded at my cup on the table. “You finished with that? I can throw it away for you.”

  “Umm, yeah. Thanks.”

  The four of us gathered our things and walked out of the coffee house. Logan slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me closer. His cheek pressed against mine when he spoke quiet enough no one else would hear him, “You look good today, Riss.”

  The warmth of belonging settled into my chest. For eighteen years I’d lived under my parent’s thumb. They dictated everything I did, made sure I always had someone looking over my shoulder. From the outside, most would have suspected the bodyguards were for my protection because my parents cared about me that much.

  That was as far from the truth as possible. My parents used others to raise me, making appearances only when necessary.

  I could have gone to any art school I wanted. I’d worked my butt off in high school to get to that point. But Beaux-Artiste was the furthest school I could attend with a program for drama as well. Alec promised to go with me when I left home, so we found a school that fit for both of us.

  Logan wasn’t a third-wheel, hadn’t ever been. From the first day we met at orientation he’d fit right in with Alec and I. Where Eric would fit in, I wasn’t sure. But I was more than willing to find out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It took a couple of days before I finally had a chance to talk to Logan alone. Alec wasn’t there to interrupt and take over the conversation. Eric was in class, no longer attached at Logan’s hip as he had been since we’d met.

  “Tell me the truth about Eric. There’s something that doesn’t fit. You don’t befriend every person you meet.”

  We were in his room studying for our World Literature, a class every student had to take during their fourth semester, quiz the next day. Professor J. always gave quizzes on Friday. He called them pop quizzes, which I thought I’d escaped after high school. All it took was one semester with him to figure out he only gave “pop” quizzes on Friday.

  “What do you mean? He’s a nice guy. Asked me for help moving in and we got along.”

  “Okay, but he’s following you around like a puppy dog. That’s just weird. And the fact that he’s from New York? The same place I live. He’s infatuated with me, too. Nearly every time I try to talk to him, or ask questions to get to know him, he turns them into some kind of innuendo. It’s kind of creepy.”

  “You’re overreacting, Carissa. I know you’re parents weren’t the greatest. While you haven’t told me much, I get that they didn’t let you do things on your own. You’ve been looking over your shoulder since you got here. Like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  In that, he was right. I was looking over my shoulder. It’d been too easy to leave. At first I figured they’d send someone down after I got moved in. Give me the illusion of doing something on my own before blowing that dream and sending another “personal assistant” as they called them.

  When months passed and no one showed up, I started to think maybe they’d followed through. That’s what the monthly phone calls were for—they were taking an actual interest in their daughter rather than relying on others. But this was too convenient. Something they’d do—send a guy to watch over me and tell him to work his way into my group. Was I paranoid? Yeah, probably so. Maybe Logan was right, I was overthinking, overreacting. Eric could have been a good guy. He wasn’t bad to look at, and if I looked beyond my own paranoia, I had to admit I wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better.

  “Maybe you’re r
ight. I don’t know, Logan. Something just isn’t sitting right.” My mom’s phone call from the first day of school still sat like a brick in my stomach. Did that have any tie to Eric? Was that another coincidence?

  Logan’s hand found its way to my leg, and I brushed him off. For the most part I didn’t mind his advances, but occasionally he pushed too far. I looked at him and shook my head.

  He sighed and returned to looking through the chapter we’d been reviewing. “Riss, why won’t you give me a chance?”

  “I did, remember?”

  “We had one date, if you want to call it that. Alec was with us, and we went bowling. That was more going out with friends. You’ve never let me take you out, just you and I.”

  “You bought my dinner.” Okay, I was reaching, but I didn’t want to have this conversation. Not when I was already occupied with thoughts of Eric, and Mom, and classes. It was too early in the semester for things to be so complicated.

  “I’ve bought your dinner plenty of times since then, and I’ll do it more in the future. All I’m asking is for a chance. We go out on one date. If you don’t feel anything, I stop trying.”

  “And our friendship?” That was the other reason I didn’t want to give “us” a shot. I really liked Logan. He was a sweet guy. One day he’d find a girlfriend that was perfect for him. And I’d still have him as a friend.

  “It won’t change. I like you now, and that hasn’t had an effect on us. Has it?”

  No, he was right. It hadn’t changed our friendship. Didn’t mean it wasn’t still a concern.

  “Can we just study?”

  “Yeah, but I have one more question. What worries you more, that Eric is new and he and I became quick friends or that you like him?”

  And there was the million-dollar question. It would have helped if I’d had an answer. Maybe then I wouldn’t doubt his motives or question the guy who felt like a brother to me.

  “I don’t know, Logan. I wish I did. But I don’t.”

  “That’s what I figured. Okay, so back to work.”

  Like that, we went back to being two friends studying for a quiz. Plain and simple, just the way we both preferred. We talked out what was bothering us and then fell back into the easy friendship we shared.

  * * * *

  Eight-fifteen came way too early Friday morning. My alarm went off, and I hit snooze again, only to roll over and realize I was late. Breaking a speed record for myself, I showered, dressed, and ran out the door. I’d thrown my hair into a sloppy, wet ponytail. No makeup. Jeans and T-shirt that I’d yanked from the drawer without paying attention to what it said, and flip-flops. Definitely not one of my finer days, but I didn’t have time to worry.

  Half way across the commons, I had to slow down to get around a large group blocking the walkway. I huffed, shrugged my bag higher on my shoulder, and pushed my way through, rather than going around. Someone gripped my bicep, bringing me to a complete stop.

  “Where you off to so quickly?”

  The guy’s voice was scratchy, not at all attractive. He sounded like he was a two-pack-a-day smoker. I cringed away at his touch, tried to shake him off. When he didn’t budge, my breathing picked up a little more. My chest tightened.

  “Let me go.”

  He laughed. “No way, then you’ll run. I just wanted to talk. I’ve seen you around.”

  Smoke-scented breath washed over me, and my gag reflex kicked in. “Great. I’m going to be late to class, please let me go.”

  The jerk actually tightened his grip and pulled me closer, then wrapped his other arm around my waist.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  Memories from the last time I was in this situation threatened to send me into a full-on panic attack. I tried to pry his fingers from my shoulder, but he wouldn’t budge. Instead, he dragged me away from the group. I wanted to yell, scream, but my throat wouldn’t work. It was all I could do to take another breath. My vision blurred. My heart beat so hard I was sure it would burst from my chest.

  “Please. I’ll stay and talk. Just…just let go.” Each word took a miracle to get out.

  “She said let go. I suggest you listen.”

  Eric’s voice rumbled from behind, and the relief washing over me nearly made me fall to the ground. He was the last person I would have expected to come to my rescue.

  It seemed like forever before he stood in front of us. The usual unease I felt with him around wasn’t there. Thank goodness. I gave a long sigh as the brute finally released me. Eric pulled me away and into his protective hold. Not so tight I couldn’t get away if I wanted, but tight enough I knew he was protecting me.

  “Hey, man. Sorry about that.”

  Why did guys always do that? I asked him to let me go, and he tugged me around like a rag doll. Eric shows up and says the same thing, and the guy not only releases his hold, but also apologizes. Stupid boys. I wanted to hit him in the gut. Or the balls like the last person that tried to force me into something I didn’t want to do.

  “Whatever. I’m sure your friends wondered where you were going. Maybe you should head back over to them.” Eric tilted his head back toward the group we’d walked away from.

  Eric didn’t let me go until he the other guy had rejoined his friends. I looked at my phone. Late to class. Crap.

  “Hey,” Eric said before letting go and giving me some space. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my arm where there would likely be a bruise soon. “I’m good. Thanks for…umm…well, I…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I was headed in the same direction. Sorry about the asshole.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m okay now. Really. Thank you again.”

  I started to walk away, but stopped when he called my name.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Did I do something?”

  What did he mean? I stared at Eric, trying to figure out how to answer. My brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, did you do something? You helped me with that guy.” I pointed to the group a few feet away.

  Eric shook his head. “No. You don’t like me. Why?”

  Oh. That.

  The slow breath I released gave me a chance to piece together exactly what to say. Coming out with the truth would have been more awkward than necessary.

  “Let’s go to the café. I haven’t had any coffee. Since I don’t want to walk into class late I might as well skip.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked side-by-side, silent. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable; I didn’t have a burning need to talk to him. Although, I won’t deny a small burn started in my belly being so near to him. He looked so darn good. He once again wore jeans, although these were looser than some of his others. Both knees had holes worn in in them, not like the ones you bought at the store. He’d actually worked in these. They had to be comfort jeans if I judged the additional worn spots on the front pockets and the frayed seams at the bottom. His T-shirt looked as worn as his jeans, and I knew from when he’d held me close how soft it was.

  He smelled like fresh rain with a hint of woods. I wanted him to pull me close again, tuck me into his side. Well, that’s what my body screamed. My head told me to be wary. Keep him at arm’s length. While my uncertainty about him had eased, it seemed it wasn’t gone.

  Inside the café, we commandeered the first table we could find. This time of the morning was busy with students coming and going, grabbing pastries and coffee before their first class or between their first and second. It was a small place. The counter took up about half the area, leaving room for a couch and chair and a few small circular tables. Each round table had two or three chairs for people to gather around and chat. If someone wanted to study, this wasn’t the place; there were always too many people talking to concentrate. But they made the best coffee on campus and had pastries I could live off of. Their beignets were the best in the country, hands down. The place always smelled like ci
nnamon and sugar. I imagined being in my grandma’s kitchen when I was there. Or what a grandma’s kitchen would be like, if I’d had one who baked.

  “What would you like?” Eric asked.

  “You don’t have to get me anything. I’ll get it.”

  “My treat.”

  “Well, okay. If you insist. A medium coffee au lait and a couple of beignets. Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’ll be right back.”

  It wasn’t long before Eric came back to the table, beignets and coffee in hand. He must have had some magic with the baristas—I’d never have made it through the line as quickly as he did. As I took a bite of the warm, powder-sugared beignet I didn’t even try to stop the moan that slipped out.

  “A fan, huh?” He laughed before taking a drink.

  “Oh yeah. Impossible not to be. You’ve had these, right?”

  “I admit, I haven’t. Today’s my first.”

  I waited while he took his first bite. His eyes actually rolled back, and the corner of his lips turned up into a smile. Oh yeah, Eric was hooked. I smirked then returned to eating my own breakfast.

  “So, tell me why you don’t like me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just…well, I don’t know how to say this. So I’ll just lay it out there. You’re from the city. You scored a single in the same hall as Logan, despite your major being dance and his music. Somehow you worked your magic on Logan, and he befriended you immediately. It’s all a little too coincidental. Surely you can understand why I’m a little wary. “

  “Actually, no I can’t. Sure there are some coincidences. But, Carissa, New York City is full of people. It’s kind of selfish to think my being here is related to you in some way, don’t you think?”

  Well, when he put it that way...I scolded myself for acting like a spoiled brat. Logan had asked me to give the guy a chance. If I’d met him the day before or after, would it have been different? Could the call from Mom have affected me more than I’d realized? Yeah, it probably had.