Truth & Temptation

by Riley Edgewood

  Because when he looks at me, even if I'm not facing him, I swear to God I can feel it.

  On Wednesday, he calls me into his office.

  "You," he says, leaning against his desk, all forced casual and still sexy as fuck, "have been avoiding me. Should I be worried? Is it the HR stuff?"

  "No," I say, my eyes widening. I'm such an idiot, giving off mixed signals. I take a few steps toward him, then I stop when the words try to bubble their way up my throat. I am not going to tell him I love him at the fucking office. "I'll sign the papers whenever they send them."

  "Then talk to me. What is it?"

  Oh God, he's going to trap me with this annoying habit I've developed of being honest with him.

  But there is one truth that might get the job done without my having to tell him everything. "This job's important to me. Being around you makes it hard to be competent because all I want to do is jump you when I see you."

  "I get it. I can't look at you without wondering what you're wearing under your clothing. You've ruined me," he says, with a smile.

  Warmth. Straight between my legs. Flutters, too. I cross one ankle and lean against the door, hoping he can't see right through me. "See. This is what I'm talking about! How am I supposed to stay professional when you say things like that… When you make me feel things like this?" Also? I love you. I want to shout it so bad I literally bite the tip of my tongue.

  "So you're saying you want to keep it professional on business days?"

  "No—but also yes." I hope my expression shows my chagrin. Because, "Believe me, Alec. Even right now I'm having trouble"—not telling you I fucking love you—"not begging you to bend me over your desk. But this is the sort of thing HR will definitely not approve of, regardless of what we sign."

  Plus, honestly, I feel the weight of necessity to do a fucking awesome job here. Nobody knows better than I do that I'll be under Mr. Chambers' scrutiny for the foreseeable future. I don't want a reputation as the office flirt or to be seen as a girl who screws her way into keeping her job… Not to mention the fact that, while Zoloft seems to be helping, I'm well aware how quickly a person can slide back into depression—and losing my job, or my reputation? Yeah, I've got firsthand experience with those triggers.

  "Screw HR." Alec wets his lips and shoves off his desk, taking one deliciously menacing step toward me. His nostrils puff out in a small flare when he takes a breath, and his face is so full of desire, my mouth goes wet. Aaaaand there go any thoughts about the possibility of depression. Damn, he's fucking hot.

  "Alec," I say, pleading—though whether for him to let up or keep going, I'm not sure.

  "Fine. I'll behave," he says, "But on the weekends you belong to me. With me."

  Four more weekends, I estimate, before he goes to school, and my stomach tenses. "Starting with this weekend," I say. "Friday night. Don't forget."

  He gives me a blandly amused look. "I'll be thinking of it every hour at least, and yet somehow I'll remain professional." His expression sharpens into something much less bland and a lot more dangerous and he takes another step toward me. And then another. "Unless you stand here for one second longer."

  I want to take him up on it. I want to bounce myself off this door and straight onto him. He glances at my mouth, and I run my tongue over my lips, and…

  "I—" I cover my mouth with my hands before love you can follow. And I hightail it out of his office.

  Time passes excruciatingly slow. I'm aware of Alec every second of every minute, like this whole being professional thing actually makes me want him more even if I'm the one who set the parameters.

  At one point he's just standing there, down the aisle in front of my desk, at someone else's desk, and he's drinking a bottle of water. I watch him tip the bottle to his mouth. I watch the liquid travel down his throat.

  My own mouth goes so wet I wonder if it's possible to be overhydrated.

  And, because I swear he came complete with Teagan-mind reading capabilities, his eyes slide over to mine, and they freaking twinkle because there's no doubt he knows what I'm feeling.

  I spend a lot of time cleaning the break room.

  I catch him looking at me too, sometimes, with this speculative expression, like he's…nervous. I try to keep my hopes from pole-vaulting, but they leap right out of my reach—because maybe he wants to tell me he loves me too.

  On Thursday, I figure out what I want to do.

  Nothing fancy. I can't afford it—and it's not me anyway. And I want the moment I tell him to come straight from who I am.

  Which means peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, hard ciders, and chips. Lake Imperial and my picnic basket, the one I made in middle school. Maybe the blanket I made, too, to spread on the grass. We can skip the picnic tables. I'll take him to a spot I know doesn't get much traction. We'll be alone.

  It might not be much, but it won't matter to Alec. We'll have the lake and the setting sun. We'll have the fireflies and the chirping crickets and birds overhead. We'll have each other and I'll tell him I love him.

  Oh my God. This is too much. I'm so…ugh. What has happened to me? I turn to Sam, typing away at his desk. "Hey."

  "What?" He doesn't bother looking over. I envy his multitasking abilities.

  "Say something annoying."

  This gives him pause. He looks at me, his expression unsteady. "Uh, why?"

  "Because I haven't been irritated in a while and I need to make sure I still can be. You're usually good at it—so give me your best shot."

  His mouth twists in that cocky teenaged smug sort of way we all lose the ability to master once we hit twenty. "You had VPLs yesterday."

  "I had what?"

  "Visible panty lines."

  Yep. Turns out I can definitely still get pissed off. "You're such a little shit. Why didn't you say anything? Why did you even look?"

  "Sorry. They were noticeable." He at least has the decency to blush, even if his mouth stays in the smug twist from before. "Also sometimes you talk out loud while you type. It's annoying."

  "You are annoying." I throw a pen at him and the nib leaves a black mark on the chest of his shirt. He looks from it to me and the expression on his face is so bewildered, I burst into laughter. "Guess it's your turn to walk around with something embarrassing for people to stare at all day."

  It doesn't occur to me to apologize until later. But the fact that it registers at all…well, I'll call that progress. Even more so when I actually do it.

  Another thing that doesn't occur to me until later is that in order to have the picnic I want, I have to get my things from my grandparents' house.

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  I TAKE FRIDAY off of work, texting Alec that I'm fine but I have to deal with some personal stuff. I swear, I have to stop calling out. Alec may be cool with it—but he won't be my boss for much longer and I need a better track record. Especially with Mr. Chambers probably looking for reasons to get rid of me. Plus, I only get fourteen days off a year.

  But today… Today I'd be a waste of space at work. Today I need to focus on dealing with my grandparents.

  Ugh. It's too early to think about them. I'm going back to bed.

  Alec calls me a few minutes later, and my voice is still groggy when I answer. "The sun is barely up. I was so close to falling back asleep."

  "I'm taking off today too, to be with you," he announces. He doesn't sound groggy at all. He sounds awake, alive. Even wired, maybe. "Let's do your personal stuff together."

  I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Yum. An entire extra day with Alec? I'm tempted. My entire body's tempted, if the tightening in my nipples is any indication. The warmth in my belly. The wet between my thighs…

  But I say, "Go to work, boss. I need to do this on my own."

  "Sounds serious."

  I shrug, laughing silently at myself when I remember he can't see it. God, I need coffee. "I'll tell you about it tonight. I'll text you where to meet me."

  He
's hesitant before responding. "Are you sure?"

  I'm touched when we hang up, because I think he was able to read the nervousness in my voice.

  I am nervous. I have to face the people who raised me with as much care as they might have given a fucking slug. I need to get my basket and my blanket—and, hell, most of my other stuff while I'm at it. But this might be the last time I ever see them, and there are some things I need to get off my chest.

  Just…not first thing in the morning.

  Brunch in an hour? I text Cassidy. My treat.

  How about breakfast now? she responds. We're leaving in a couple hours for North Carolina.

  Kelsey's Diner, I say. And you can bring Gage if you have to.

  She brings Gage.

  I want to be annoyed, but he makes her happy.

  And he's a nice person.

  And… I'm not sure why I want to be annoyed anymore.

  They walk toward the table, Cassidy all blonde and curves, Gage all sharp-featured and disheveled. Even in a sallow old diner, they shine. Ugh.

  She hugs me. He hugs me. And, add the fact that he smells awesome to the list from before. Not as good as Alec, but close enough.

  Cassidy drops into a seat, but Gage stays standing. "I've got some lyrics to work through. Thought I'd give you girls some alone time, cool?"

  A grateful smile widens my lips. "Gig tonight?"

  "Yeah. Then some much needed beach time." He leans down for a quick kiss from Cassidy. "With the sexiest bikini chick in the Outer Banks."

  Cassidy rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are prettily pink and there's a smile in her tone. "You haven't met Quinn yet."

  "Doesn't matter." He tweaks her shoulder, nods to me, and then heads off to his own table. A moment later he's lost in his notebook, scribbling away.

  After a waitress takes our order, Cassidy levels me with a stare. "What gives?"

  "What do you mean?" I aim for an innocent tone, but my pitch is way off.

  "I haven't heard from you this early in the morning since we were in high school and you were texting me not to pick you up because you were ditching."

  "Those were the days." My words feel almost as crooked as the smile I'm trying to come up with. "Are you excited to see Quinn?"

  I don't quite understand why Cassidy cares enough about her roommate to visit her. The few times I've been down to North Carolina to see them during their school year, Quinn's been…distant, to say the least. She hides in her room and barely responds when Cassidy tries to make conversation. I wondered if she was shy, but Cassidy said no, that she'd drastically changed this past year, growing secretive and kind of moody.

  I would never be friends with someone like that, but…then again, I can't be surprised Cassidy would be. She's friends with me, after all…

  Maybe it's her calling, collecting all of us rejects.

  "Teag. Out with whatever you're holding back." Her expression softens. "Is it Gran? Is she still bothering you?"

  "No. Yes—she's part of it. But…" I find my shrug comes easily. "I'm going over there after this to get my stuff, and then I'll be done with her—with both of them—for good."

  I expect Cassidy to ask if I'm sure that's what I want, the eternal optimist that she's always been, but all she says is, "Good. You're better without them."

  Relief shudders through me in a laugh. "Anything is better without them."

  "Do you want me to go with you?"

  "No," I say, meaning it. "I need to do this on my own."

  "You're really okay about it?" She studies my face, and I nod. I can tell the moment she believes that I'm telling the truth because her own stance relaxes. "You get to turn a whole new page. Ugh—and you get to do it living with Vera. I'm so tempted to move back in—how much fun would that be?"

  "Awesome," I say, imagining it. "Though then she couldn't sneak around with that Gold Rush Standard roadie from last summer."

  "The one she made out with last year?" Her mouth parts and her eyes go wide and—oops—I guess she didn't know.

  "They're doing quite a bit more than making out if the noises in her bedroom a few nights ago were any indication." Guilt shoots little arrows my way for sharing Vera's business, but it's not like Cassidy wouldn't find out eventually anyway. "Have you heard from Luca?"

  "Nope." Cassidy's jaw tightens. "I told him to burn my phone number last time he called."

  "No such thing as forgiving and forgetting, huh?"

  Her eyes burn with anger. "He wrote a song as his apology. I forgave him long before that. But how can anyone fucking forget when that song's played like every five minutes?"

  I glance at Gage, erasing something in his notebook. "Does it bother him?"

  "Not anymore." Some of the tension drains from her expression. "At first it did, but…he says he's confident enough in how much I love him not to let a stupid song bring us back down. And he says he'll write me millions of songs, so who cares about one fading pop artist." She shakes her head, laughing.

  I'm a little swoony myself. "He's halfway decent."

  "I sometimes feel like I don't deserve him." She twists to look at him, and like he senses her movement, he catches her eyes, grinning a lopsided smile. She's wearing the same one when she turns around. "But all I have to do is look at him and I'm better. Better than better."

  The waitress drops off our food. I use the interruption as an excuse to ask what I really want to know about.

  Okay.

  I open my mouth to ask about the first time she told Gage she loves him, but something else comes out instead. "I slept with Alec."

  She blinks at the change of pace, and then her features twist into something pleased, something greedy, and she rubs her hands together. "I want the details—was it amazing? I can't believe you waited this long."

  "Believe it," I snap. "And not just with Alec either."

  "Not just with Alec?" She tilts her head, considering my words—and then her eyes light up. "Holy shit—did you have a three-way?"

  "God—no. What is wrong with you?"

  "What's wrong with you?" she snaps back this time. "It's not like you've never said you wanted one." She shovels eggs into her mouth, chewing angrily.

  "I was a virgin," I say, angrier even than the motions of her jaw. "I'd never had sex. And you can wipe that shocked expression off your fucking face because if you were any kind of friend you'd already know this."

  "But you always… I mean…" She slowly lowers her fork to the plate in front of her, eggs forgotten. "Why would you always say—"

  "Because it was fun. It was easy." It was making myself the thing my grandmother always said I'd be—but defiantly, like in her face defiantly. Like her words never hurt me, never bothered me. "And you never even questioned it. Never even stopped to wonder why I was spreading my legs for everyone I came in contact with." My voice is sharp enough to slice someone—it's like I am my grandmother right now. God. Antidepressants have definitely helped to stem some of my mood swings, but I still have so far to go along the self-improvement path. I fucking hate lashing out like this. Hate.

  "First of all," Cassidy bites out the words, "even if you had been sleeping with the guys you said you were—why would I judge you for it? You want to be ashamed of your imaginary sex life—go ahead. But don't put that on me."

  "I…" Damn. I can't believe I'm fighting a smile. "You grew some claws this year, huh?"

  "Kinda have to with you as my best friend." She's not ready to smile yet. Which makes me lose the battle with my own—it forces my lips to curve, and even wider when she glares at me.

  "I'm sorry I lied," I say.

  "I'm sorry you ever felt the need to."

  I push my pancakes around. "It was never about you, or not trusting you. It was… I don't know how to explain it. My mind's a fucked-up place sometimes."

  "Tell me something I don't know," she says, her words drier than the Sahara.

  "You should be careful what you ask for," I say. "But it's too late to take it bac
k now."

  And I tell her everything else, too.

  And we talk for hours.

  And she's late leaving for the Outer Banks. But this, I don't apologize for. Because we needed these hours.

  "How did I not know you had feelings for Jason? I was so blind," she says, squeezing me into a huge hug.

  "It was kind of a whirlwind. It happened so fast, somehow we noticed each other at the same time, and there were a few weeks of flirting. He… He didn't want me to say anything until we knew what it was, so we spent that weekend together—but I didn't hear from him again after, so I thought he'd changed his mind. And then he was…gone." I wrap my arms around her, ducking my face into the hug so I don't have to see the tears that shimmer in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Please. I'm sorry there was no closure after your weekend together, but I'm glad it happened," she says. "I'm glad he had that weekend with you. That he knew happiness with you. Before he died."

  Before he died. Before he died. These are such horrible words, and my heart splinters all over again. I don't care whether or not we would've ended up together; nothing changes the fact that Jason should still be here today.

  He died too young. And over something so stupid.

  There's a question Cassidy's too nervous to ask—I feel it in her stance, and I answer anyway. "I never saw him using drugs. I never knew."

  I want to tell her I'm nervous he was using around me and that I didn't pick up on it. I want to tell her I've spent more nights than I can count sleepless over wondering how I missed the signs, or if I could've prevented his death. But I don't. I let it rest. Because my fears aren't facts, and transferring them to her won't do any good. And because I feel closer to her than I have in ages. The distance has been all my fault, but it's starting to close and that's what matters most.