A Love Song for Liars

by Piper Lawson

  “You need a new guitar,” Annie states, leaning against the locker next to mine. The side of her forehead meets the metal as she cocks her head at me. “This soph is selling one that looked amazing, so I lined it up for you to try.”

  I shut the door. “Seriously?”

  “And you have a free period. So, let’s go,” she insists, bobbing next to me down the hall.

  Her slow smile has my abs tightening.

  I sneak a look at her, the skirt that swings against her smooth thighs, her breasts outlined by the jacket, her silky hair waving over one shoulder.

  I was getting used to seeing her in shorts, jeans, bathing suits, but she looks really fucking pretty in her school uniform.

  Even if it has me thinking about what’s underneath.

  “You just want an excuse to hang out with me,” I drawl as we fall into step together.

  “This is a favor. I’m sick of you.”

  But we basically have been hanging out.

  All weekend.

  She needs help. I give it to her.

  No, I don’t advertise to Jax that we’re spending time together. It’s simpler that way.

  But it’s addictive the way she listens, how she tries.

  When she sings, her voice is smooth and rough at once, velvet with a raw edge. Unpolished, but there’s a realness you can’t fake, an earnest emotion that grabs you by the base of your spine.

  Girl’s got a gift.

  I’ve never gotten invested in anyone else’s music before, but I want her to succeed, and I want to be there when she does. To see the lightbulb go off when she figures something out, when a piece clicks into place in that beautiful mind of hers.

  We get to the all-purpose room and meet the guy with the guitar.

  He introduces himself and gestures to the open case.

  “Wow,” he says to Annie when I start playing.

  I tune out whatever he says next, needing to get a read on the sound, the feel, the weight of the instrument under my hands.

  It’s actually not bad. I’ve played some nice guitars of Jax’s and the one at Zeke’s the other day, but maybe I have been slumming it too much with the one I got before I knew I was gonna do this for a lifetime.

  “How much?” I say when I set it down.

  He shrugs. “How’s two?”

  “Two hundred?”

  “Two thousand.”

  I’m about to say hell no when Annie grabs my arm. “Give us a second.”

  She pulls me out into the hall, half-empty since everyone’s at lunch.

  “Do you like it?”

  My laugh is humorless. “Yeah, but two large is insane.”

  She reaches into her wallet and pulls out a thick stack of twenties, two fifties on top. “He’ll negotiate.”

  My hand closes over hers, the warmth of her making me want to hold on. “I’m not negotiating, and I’m not taking your money. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

  “I feel sorry for the guitar.”

  Adrenaline pumps through my veins. “You think my hands are that good?”

  She puts her wallet away and shoots me a slow smile. “I wouldn’t know.”

  It’s only teasing, but those words affect me. We’re in a school hallway, but suddenly I picture dragging her into a stairwell and showing her just what my hands can do.

  Because, suddenly, fixing her music box and playing while she sings don’t feel like the best use of them.

  I want to press my thumb into her mouth, to make her moan around it.

  I want to drag up her skirt to find out what words she’s hiding beneath.

  I want to grab her ankles, wrap those endless legs around my hips tight enough I can grind into her.

  Late last night, she texted to say my lights were on and asked if I wanted to practice in the pool house.

  I shut that down even though I wanted to say yes.

  If I was the talking type, I might ask her to be more considerate.

  To stop teasing me with those long looks, the knowing smiles, the smart-ass comments.

  But none of it makes a difference because Annie and I are still worlds apart in every way that matters.

  We might share a smile in the hallway at school, but I have my friends and she has hers. She goes to rehearsal. I hang with the popular kids, feign ambivalence when Carly spews her bullshit when all I want to do is find Annie and get the hell out of this place.

  It’s necessary. The framework that keeps everything in place, that reminds me not to fall for Jax’s daughter when he isn’t there to remind me himself.

  “What is this?” Annie bends to pick up something that’s fallen on the floor.

  I take it from her. “Nothing. Your dad’s.”

  I’ve been staring at the business card all weekend, but I haven’t made the call.

  I shove the card in my jacket pocket and force my attention back to the task at hand. “If I’m going to start over, I’d rather go with mahogany. Something heavier weight with better sustain. Maybe a rosewood fret. V neck. I like how it fits in my hands.”

  “Three days ago you didn’t want a new guitar. Now you’re Clapton. Anything else?”

  I reach for her blazer collar, straighten it with both hands for an excuse to touch her hair, to graze her neck with my thumbs. “Twenty-four fret.”

  “All right, big boy.” She grins, and I swallow the laugh. “Stay here,” she says before heading back to let the guy down easy.

  I tune out the conversation, but my chest expands at the fact that she cared enough to set this up for me.

  This girl makes me wonder what things are possible in this world.

  My phone rings in my pocket, and like that, my good mood evaporates.

  When the voicemail appears, my finger hovers over the delete button, but thinking of Annie’s comment about how you have to open yourself up sometimes, I hold the phone to my ear instead.

  My father’s voice spills out, angry and pleading in turn.

  You still owe me, Tyler.

  I gave up everything for you, you ungrateful bastard.

  You can’t abandon your family.

  A group of students approaches, laughing and oblivious, and I wait for them to pass before I duck into a recessed stairwell.

  I lean my forehead against the cold painted brick, squeezing my eyes shut. If I’d thought maybe something had changed, like maybe he’d wake up and see what an asshole he’s been his entire life…

  I was wrong. It never changes.

  “Okay, he was bummed but… Tyler?” Annie’s footsteps draw closer until I feel her at my side. “What happened?”

  I shake my head. “Same bullshit as always. For some reason, I still fucking care.”

  Annie ducks between my arms and takes my face in her hands. “Caring isn’t a weakness. Even if the person you care about doesn’t care back, that doesn’t mean you should stop.”

  I heave out a breath, her cool hands grounding me. My hair’s falling over my face and part of hers. I wish it could hide us from the world.

  “You’re good at caring about people,” she goes on, her voice a murmur.

  “Like who?”

  “Like me.”

  I exhale heavily, my hands braced on the wall on either side of her head. “I told you I don’t.”

  “But you’ve shown me you do.”

  I pull back enough to look into her eyes brimming with empathy I’d never ask for but need like my next breath.

  There are moments you look back on, ones that feel small but change everything.

  I should step back, reinforce the distance between us.

  I don’t.

  Instead, I wrap both arms around her, pull her closer. My fingers imprint themselves on the fabric of her jacket, the soft strands of her hair.

  When I tuck her head under my chin, her breath hitches. I take a long inhale, wishing her scent didn’t calm me like it does. Even the layers of our uniforms can’t hide the warm comfort of her body.

  Her
hands slide up my back until she’s holding me as hard as I’m holding her.

  I’m supposed to keep her out, but I don’t know how.

  Leaving this summer will hurt like hell.

  And I’m terrified by how much I want to stay.

  11

  “We’ll need a two-thousand deposit. Cash or credit?”

  I hold out a debit card. “How long will it take?”

  “A month. That’s the fastest service for anything custom,” he goes on at my expression.

  “Can you do a rush? It’s for a friend.” I debate, chewing my lip. “My dad is Jax Jamieson.”

  His eyes widen, and he glances at the name on my card, then back up. “No shit. I’d know those eyes anywhere. I made guitars for his first tour.”

  Discomfort works through me. “Do you keep in touch?”

  “Some.”

  Something tells me that even if my dad would be cool with giving Tyler a guitar, me buying him one wouldn’t go over great. “It’s a surprise.”

  “For your daddy?” The manager’s brows rise as he looks at the order. “Seem to recall he prefers twenty-two—”

  “How long?”

  The manager frowns. “Four days.”

  Apparently, there are perks to being Jax Jamieson’s kid.

  I thank him and head out to my car.

  The money for this purchase is coming from a statewide writing competition I won in the fall, plus the full-time hours I logged working as a summer student at the library last year.

  I was saving it for college—even though my dad and Haley have said they’ll pay my tuition and expenses, I want to at least contribute—but something about this decision feels right.

  Tyler doesn’t have that kind of cash, but he’s also proud. This is something he’d never ask for, something I want to do for him.

  All week, he’s been helping me practice. In the mornings, after school, whenever we can sneak in a moment.

  My performance in rehearsal is improving. I focus on my technique, on connecting to what I’m doing, and tune out the bullshit. I don’t make eye contact with Carly, and I keep my bag and water bottle at the corner of the stage where she can’t get to them. I have less than a week until when Norelli promised to render a verdict on keeping me in the lead, and I’m not going to waste it.

  As I walk, my phone rings.

  “Hey,” I answer, breathless. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Good things, I hope.” Tyler’s smooth voice comes down the line, sending tingles through my stomach.

  Lately, his voice does that to me.

  Not only his voice—his touch. Hell, even his presence in the same room. I can’t so much as brush up next to him making coffee in the morning without wishing Dad and Haley would drop into some alternate dimension so I could stare at him longer, memorize the feel of his body when he reaches over me to grab something from the fridge.

  But the part I can’t forget when I’m lying awake at night is the way he let me hold him in the hallway at school on Monday. His body was filled with tension, but the tighter I wrapped my arms around him, the more those muscles gave, the more deeply he breathed.

  “You hang up on me?” he asks.

  “Sorry, I’m here.”

  His low chuckle has me flushing as I get into the car.

  “What’s up?”

  “Your dad left a note inviting me for dinner.”

  “Haley’s best friend, Serena, is in town. The whole family’s going out to this steakhouse. Even Sophie.” I start the car, and the purr of the engine is comforting.

  “If this place is fancy, I’m screwed. My tux is at the dry cleaners.”

  “Like you care. You could walk into a restaurant in boxers and have the entire staff falling over each other.”

  “I’ll have to try that.” His voice lifts with humor, and my lips curve too. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

  I glance down at my clothes, which I changed into after school. “A dress. Black. Tight. It’s kind of short.”

  “Not the one from the frat party. You looked way too grown-up.”

  Indignation sets in. “I am grown-up.”

  He mutters something inaudible before clearing his throat. “I should bring brass knuckles if I’m gonna need to deck the waiter for hitting on you.”

  The protectiveness in his voice has the hairs lifting on my arms. “You know you can’t take down every guy who looks at me.”

  “Why not?”

  I trace a finger along the stitching on my leather steering wheel, my heart thudding dully in my chest. “Because sometimes I want to be looked at.”

  For a moment, I think Tyler’s gone, but eventually, his hard exhale tells me he’s still on the line.

  “See you at dinner, Six.”

  He hangs up before I can respond, but the nickname leaves me biting my cheek.

  Serena moans. “This is delicious. You didn’t need to go to this trouble for me.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Haley says over the table at the fancy restaurant where we have a private room. “Your visit’s a nice excuse to have everyone together.”

  And we are together. My dad’s at the head of the table and wearing a nice dress shirt, Haley’s at the other end looking more relaxed than I’ve seen her since Sophie started teething, and Sophie’s tucked in next to her. Haley’s best friend, Serena, a sleek marketing executive from New York with a fabulous ponytail and a killer smile, sits next to Sophie, and Tyler’s across from me.

  “Sophie’s going to be gorgeous like her parents,” Serena goes on.

  I sip my soda. “She’s already got every guy in miles wrapped around her finger.”

  Serena shoots me a teasing look. “Something you have in common, then.”

  I glance at Tyler sitting across from me as I dig into my salad.

  Since our call, he’s barely spoken to me. It’s as if he’s punishing me for the tension in our conversation.

  But when I walked in the door, I swear his attention locked on my legs. Any time his gaze meets mine, it lingers for half a beat before sliding away.

  “Can you pass the pepper?”

  I look up to find Tyler’s attention on me. I reach for the grinder next to my plate and hold it out.

  He takes it, and our fingers brush.

  He holds on, and so do I, a beat too long before letting go.

  I go back to my food, and the conversation turns to plans after school. I tell Serena about Columbia.

  “What about you?” she prompts Tyler. “Graduation’s a month away.”

  “I’m not going to college. I’m gonna finish with Jax, use that to get steady work as a session musician.”

  “No, Tyler’s going all the way,” I interject. He lifts a brow, and I continue. “Platinum albums, stadium tours, girls who tattoo his face on their ass.”

  Serena laughs, but Tyler’s gaze intensifies on mine, and I keep going. “Imagine it. Ty-ler. Ty-ler. Ty-ler. They'll fall at your feet.”

  “I don’t need them falling at my feet.”

  “That’s why they’ll do it.”

  My dad told me once that fame can smell desperation but it chases talent. The moment it senses you need it more than it needs you, it evaporates like morning mist.

  Tyler doesn’t care who looks at him. That’s why it’s impossible to look away.

  “I can understand the desire to get working,” Haley says, her voice bringing me back. “But if you ever wanted college, there are some fantastic performing arts schools. What’s the one in New York, Serena? The one your brother was accepted to?”

  “Vanier. I’ve never seen Beck as pumped as when he got the letter,” she says, shaking her head with a smile.

  Dad frowns at Tyler. “Have you called Zeke yet about his offer?”

  My head snaps to him. “What offer?”

  “A contact who can employ Tyler after graduation,” Dad says. “Play his cards right, he’ll have more than studio sessions.”

  But Tyler acts a
s if he hasn’t even heard, moving food around his plate.

  I’m stunned he hasn’t mentioned this, which goes to show I’ve been wrong about how much closer we’ve gotten these last weeks.

  Tyler’s the only person who cares what I want, cares enough to help me get it.

  And everything I want for myself I want for him a million times more.

  I want to see him cast off the history with his father and realize he can make something incredible.

  Tyler makes eye contact with my dad, ignoring me. “I’ll call him. I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  I kick him under the table. Why haven’t you called him?

  Leave it alone. He digs into his food.

  Serena’s brows lift, and she takes a drink before turning to me. “Haley told me you have the lead in the musical.”

  I fill her in on where we’re at, but I’m still spinning from the revelation about Tyler’s opportunity, still stinging from his dismissal.

  “Any attractive costars?” she asks.

  I take a sip of soda, my gaze drifting to the guy across from me—the one who’s avoiding my gaze as though it’s his mission in life. “Kellan plays varsity lacrosse.”

  A fork clatters against a plate across from me.

  Serena leans in, eyes brightening with anticipation. “Who’s Kellan?”

  “He’s my prince,” I tell her, spearing a piece of salad.

  A thud echoes under the table as if a knee connected with the wood.

  “He’s a prick,” Tyler mutters.

  Now I have his attention.

  My eyes flash. You wouldn’t dare tell them.

  He holds my gaze. Try me, Six.

  “Kellan,” Haley interjects. “Tyler, is that the guy you had a fight with at school?”

  My dad’s head snaps toward me.

  “If I wanted to date Kellan“—I interject around the bite of lettuce, hurrying to swallow, and Tyler’s gaze narrows—“that would be my business.”

  Dad laughs humorlessly. “Nice try. Until you’re eighteen, I can control where you go and who you see.”

  I drop my fork. “I’m already grounded. You can’t ground me twice.”

  “Then no musical.”

  Shock has my breath sticking in my chest.