I pulled back first, leaning away from him, but still staying closer than I had before being pushed into him. After a beat, his hand left my back. I realized I didn’t even know if he had a girlfriend, but I guessed—or, rather, hoped not—from the way he was looking down at me.
“We’re covered in beer,” he said.
I wiped the back of my hand over my chest, feeling the cool beer trickle down into my bra. Luckily, the olive lace of my tank hid most of the wet spill, like his black shirt had for him. “It’s not a big deal. It’s warm in here anyway.”
He laughed. He actually laughed. One little chuckle before raising the beer. I could see the shadow of a freshly shaved jawline, and knew immediately that he’d be able to grow a beautiful beard if he wanted to.
“Here,” Keane said, coming from the side and handing both of us beers. “Tori got roped into beer pong in the garage.”
I searched Keane’s face for any sign of disappointment. Adam’s thoughts about Tori being flighty had stuck in my brain and I was relieved when Keane appeared indifferent about Tori abandoning him. “Since I finished my one beer, I’m done for the night. But I left my sodas in the car,” he told Adam. “I’ll be back.”
Which left us alone again. “Sodas?” I asked Adam, trying to fill the silence.
“He’s the DD. He’s drinking some god-awful energy drink.”
I nodded and twisted the top off my beer at the same time Adam twisted the top off of his and then he tossed his empty bottle into a bin behind him. I bit back the brief bit of disappointment over not sharing his beer anymore but then he grabbed my hand like it was just as natural as sharing a beer. “Let’s go outside,” he said, already leading me out the back door before I could object. Not that I would.
He threaded us through groups of people until we were at the far corner of the deck, where a tiki torch flamed brightly. He neatly stacked up a pile of discarded plastic cups and set them away from the bench that wrapped the length of the deck, gesturing for me to sit.
Though the seat was cold, it was an incredible relief against the oppressive heat of having that many bodies in that small of a space.
“Aren’t you hot?” I asked Adam, nodding at his leather jacket.
“Aren’t you cold?” The back of his hand touched my bare arm and I shivered from the touch.
“No,” I said. “It feels good after being in there.” I took a drink, hoping to come up with something to say that didn’t involve Tori, Keane, or the weather. But the thoughts that had rested on the tip of my brain since he said his first word to me at the party poured out of my lips, unbidden. “Don’t you hate me? Or something? Why are you being nice now?”
“Hmm.” He took a drink and looked out over the deck, where people were assembling around a keg. The music was quieter out here, so I could hear Adam swallow. “I don’t really like to think I hate anyone.”
But it’d be understandable if he did, for all the grief others at school gave him. “Okay. How about deeply loathe?”
He laughed and stretched his legs out in front of him, pulling his jacket off and setting it on his lap. “I had an opinion of you. Have.” He looked sideways. “Or maybe had. I’m still working out if it’s past tense or not.”
“And what is that opinion?”
“That you’re just like everybody else.”
“But I’m not.”
“That remains to be seen. But I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“I think I would know who I am.”
“But do you?” He motioned toward the crowd by the door. “You’re always in those groups of people.” I knew those people was referring to the ones who tormented him. Adam didn’t follow the popular track of high school. He did what mattered to him, regardless of how it made him look to other people.
“I’m still an individual.”
“But you’re a part of the noise when groups of people do shitty things and you don’t stand out from it.”
“What do you mean?”
He leaned back, settling in. “I mean that I’ve been bullied in my life. I don’t let it bug me too bad, but when you’re silent while witnessing that kind of behavior, you’re no better than the ones doing the bullying. Silence makes you complicit.”
“But I don’t agree with what they do,” I argued.
“Do you say anything?” He raised an eyebrow.
No, I didn’t. I was a wallflower, staying against the wall. “All right. That’s fair,” I finally said. “But, do you speak up every time you see someone else being belittled?”
“Yes.” He said it immediately. “Mob mentality is real. And the bullshit on social media makes it ten times worse. Rumors start and spread like an infestation via photos or comments and that shit is toxic.”
I agreed with him. Which was why the only things on my own social media were boring. “You said that you’re deciding whether or not I’m like everyone else,” I said. “And what do you think so far?”
“I hope not.”
“So, okay, what made you decide that I’m maybe not like everyone else?”
“When you said this was your first party.” He tipped his beer back and raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s my first one too.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe that. Adam might not run in the same circles as the people who hosted this party, but he was Keane’s friend. Who was Tori’s friend. Who attended all the parties. “But you and Keane…”
“Come on, Hollis. Is it so unbelievable that someone like me, a veritable ‘band geek,’” he held up air quotes, “has been to many high school parties? Why would I want to hang out with most of these people?”
But he didn’t look like some band geek cliché, ripped from the movies we’d grown up on. He looked like someone who stayed up late at night, scribbling music onto coffee-stained pages. He looked dark, maybe a little dangerous. Tori’s assessment of him being steel wool was on the nose. “So, the reason you glared at me was because you thought I was like the rest of them?”
He nodded.
“You looked like you hated me.”
“You looked like everyone else.”
“But I’m not,” I insisted. “And,” I took a deep breath, saying, “I don’t have to convince you of that.” And then I held my breath.
There was a change in his face after I said that. Whatever it was, some kind of understanding settled in. He didn’t scoff. He didn’t laugh. “You’re absolutely right, Hollis Vinke. I have to say, I respect you more for saying that.” He winked. He actually winked at me. My heart did a little flutter, a flip flop, and I forced myself to keep it cool. It was totally surreal that this guy I had liked for years, who I had only admired from a distance like some lovesick loser, was talking to me. And actually interested in what I had to say.
“That was my assumption of you, that you were like the rest of the assholes in school. To be fair, you never ever speak up.”
He wasn’t wrong. I felt safer on the sidelines, a member of the audience than a player. “That’s true. But if you were in my position, you might be the same way.”
“And what position is that?”
I winced, not wanting to talk about my dad. Talk about a buzzkill. “I have an image I have to maintain. At least until college.”
“And why do you have to maintain it? Why can’t you be your own person?”
“I am my own person.” But was I? He was right; I did follow the crowd. I stayed in the back, largely forgotten. There was safety in that. For myself and for the reputation my family expected me to uphold.
“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t like talking about yourself?”
I knew I blushed then; could feel the warmth flood my cheeks as I fumbled over what to say. When words failed me, I just nodded and looked down at my beer.
“It’s okay, Hollis. Here, I made an unfair assumption of you. Let’s even the score: you make one of me.”
Oh, no. This was going to creep on dangerous territory. I couldn’t make any assumption
s about him without revealing how I viewed him. I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I get it. I understand why you might think I’m like them.” I looked over at the handful of guys egging each other on to drink more, to obliterate themselves. “I can admit that I probably get swallowed up by those kinds of people.”
“Yeah, because you don’t use your voice.”
It was something Tori always told me. She urged me not to let her steamroll right over me, to stand up for myself. But it was easier to fall into the crowd, even if you didn’t agree with them all the time. “I’m working on it.”
“I can tell. This is the most we’ve spoken since, when? Elementary school.”
“Probably.” I took a sip of my beer, hoping it’d help calm my nerves around him.
“So, Hollis,” Adam began before I could swallow. “What awaits you after high school?”
Was he genuinely interested? I wondered. Or was it just a way to avoid awkward silence?
Someone stumbled against the side of the railing, sending reverberations down to where we sat. “I don’t know,” I said, leaning forward. “I mean, I know what’s expected of me, but I haven’t made any definite plans. You?”
“I’m getting the hell out of here.” It didn’t surprise me. I knew—everyone knew—that Adam possessed too much talent to just waste away in our modest little city. He was destined for more, for bigger things, and I ached to have that same kind of calling. “I think Los Angeles is what everyone expects, but I want to go east.”
“New York?” I asked, trying not to let disappointment color my voice. In all the years Adam Oliver and I had attended school together, I had never once had a conversation with him the way I was now. I didn’t need to feel some misplaced sense of loss when there was nothing for me to grieve.
“Maybe not that far. I’ve got a kid sister and my gram to look after here.”
I knew better than to ask about his parents. His mom had died a couple of years back and everyone talked about his dad. In middle school, the stop sign at the crosswalk had been taken out by Adam’s dad one night when he’d had too many drinks. Being that Amber Lake was a smallish town, everyone knew who’d caused it. And Adam, being the son of the guy who had messed up, publicly, many times, had been the butt of many jokes.
I never engaged in that kind of gossip myself, but I hadn’t ever taken action to shut it down either. I felt shame, knowing how many conversations I had listened to and remained silent. Too afraid to rock the boat, to even so much as whisper my disagreement.
“You went quiet.” His voice was low and beckoning. I met his eyes, saw them searching mine. Much like he had when we’d he’d first greeted me that night, though with none of the contempt he’d held then.
I licked my lips, feeling my breath go heavy as he continued to stare at me. His arm was resting behind me, along the railing. If I leaned back just a few inches, I knew I would feel his arm on my back, the skin that was bared by this pathetic excuse for a tank top. But I couldn’t be that brazen, could I? I licked my lips again and this time, his eyes dipped to them and then slowly he looked back into my eyes. I took a breath in, feeling my chest lift and fall in an irregular cadence and every single inch of me came alive like a firework. He looked back at my lips and when he met my eyes again, the crooked smile on his lips nearly undid me. Holy Hannah. Was this sexual tension? I had never felt anything like this. I had little practice in romance, and even less in sexual contact of any kind. My inexperience caused a flurry of feeling to gather in my head: indecision, excitement, and impatience.
When we first sat beside each other, there hadn’t been anything intimate about our position. But at some point in our conversation, I had turned my body his way and he’d turned his way to me. In the few inches that separated our thighs rested his hand, close enough that I could feel the cool condensation of his glass wetting my jeans.
But then, in the lightest of touches, I felt his thumb graze my spine. And I did something unheard of for me, I leaned into it.
His head moved in closer—maybe not for a kiss, maybe just for conversation. But I wouldn’t ever know what his intention was, because seconds later, a guy double my size fell on top of me, spilling more beer onto my shirt as his beer poured over my head.
“Fuck, Conway!” Adam exclaimed, pulling Ben Conway off of me as I adjusted to the cool shock of the beer completely soaking my tank and dripping down my face. “Get a handle on yourself.”
Ben was obviously drunk, based on the way he swayed violently to the side, nearly falling over until Seth, the party host himself, righted him. “Fuck you, Adam,” Ben said, but the words were slurred together. He pushed back at Adam, but his hands had the effect of dead fish and Adam didn’t budge. He shoved Ben again, and he fell back into his crowd of friends.
I was completely still, feeling the sting of embarrassment on my chest and neck—all of which were visible in this tank. I could feel a dozen people staring at me, but the shock of being completely soaked rendered me unable to stand up and brush it off. I didn’t have a spare shirt, and I knew I must reek now. I wanted to go home. I couldn’t take the stares, the gossip that was already brewing.
Before I could say anything, Adam was draping his leather jacket over my shoulders and steering me away from the people on the deck. Even with the jacket as protection, I couldn’t seem to control my reaction. My eyes filled for a moment, even as I blinked the tears back.
“Asshole,” Adam said under his breath as we moved to the front yard, right by a tree that was illuminated by a flood light. “I’m so sorry, Hollis.”
“Why are you apologizing?” I said, my lips trembling from cold and humiliation. I couldn’t reconcile this Adam, this caring and sincere Adam, with the Adam I’d spoken to hours earlier. He’d switched so fast that even if I hadn’t just been doused in beer, I might still be a little shell-shocked.
I couldn’t even look at him. I knew my hair was soaked, my shirt was soaked, and I had no idea how I was going to sneak this by my parents. Beer dripped into my eyes and stung, so I squeezed them tight but then a tear slipped out. This was probably the most embarrassing moment of my life. And the one guy I had crushed on forever got to witness it and the impending emotional explosion. I turned away from him, my fingers pulling the leather jacket tight around me. I wanted to burrow in it, to hide from everyone. But the smooth leather smelled like him and I was brought momentarily back to what just had happened. “Here,” I said, reluctantly pulling the jacket off of me. “I don’t want this to be ruined.”
“Shut up, Hollis.” He took the jacket from me and then grabbed one of my arms and shoved it through the arm hole. “Think I give a damn about the stupid jacket getting beer on it? You’re shivering.”
Tears spilled from my eyes. I wanted to snag Tori and run away from here, with my tail tucked between my legs. I would settle for melting into the giant pine tree at my back, but Adam had a firm grip on my elbows.
“Hollis,” he said, softer this time and clucked my chin up so he could look at me. I opened my eyes a moment and saw his concern. His eyes were twin black hole abysses, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He was so beautiful. Poetic, in the way he looked at me.
His hands slid to cup my jaw and he stepped closer. I couldn’t even focus on him, not when I was so worried about how I must have looked. His breath washed over my face, but not in an unpleasant way. He was close enough to kiss me. And that sent my heart into a gallop. “Are you okay?”
We stared at each other one long moment. It could have been romantic, the way he held me, blocking much of the floodlight with his body. This was the moment, the time for something to happen. A little lean in and he could kiss me.
A droplet of ice cold beer slid down my spine and I arched in reaction. This wasn’t a moment from one of my books, nor was it a moment from any of the fairy tales I heavily consumed as a child. Adam hated me. I was soaked in beer and too embarrassed to ever admit that the note he received was written by me. The moment was ruined. And
I was grieving as much for that as I was the fact that so many of our classmates had witnessed arguably my most embarrassing moment ever. And I had done nothing.
2
Adam
She resisted, pulling away from me.
I wanted to go back to that fuckhole Ben and remind him of the time I nearly kicked his ass last year for similar behavior after a Friday night football game. After spilling his contraband booze all over a row of girls in front of him, he’d just fucking laughed. Back then, I had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard against the back of the bleachers, hard enough to create a ripple effect that caused dozens of eyes to turn to us. Because I hadn’t needed to get busted for fighting, I had let him go. But there was no one here to keep Ben safe. I mean, apart from the half a dozen meatheads who worshipped him, that was.
Hollis shivered so fiercely that it moved the ground beneath our feet.
“I just want to go home,” she said, and I heard the tremble in her voice. I was mad at Ben, not just for humiliating Hollis but interrupting the conversation I hadn’t known I needed.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll go find Tori.” I pulled the sides of the jacket so they were covering her front, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Her head was down so all I could see was her forehead, and the beer that dripped down it.
She only managed a nod, so I took her by the shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. There was no doubt she was embarrassed, and it took her several long moments until I felt her hands at my sides, holding me close. I nearly pulled away, but felt her fingers sinking into my t-shirt, holding on like she needed it.
That action from her emboldened me to run my hand over her hair, dampness be damned. She needed a warm blanket, so I made a mental note to snag one from the living room inside. I waited until I felt the give in her grasp before stepping back and giving her one last squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” I promised.
But once I got inside the house, I realized that promise wouldn’t be fulfilled. The house was packed. Wall to wall with people, so many that people stood on the stairs just for room to talk. There was music and yelling and cheering from the kitchen and it was complete auditory overload.
One Little Lie: a hate to love rom-com Page 3