One Little Lie: a hate to love rom-com

by Whitney Barbetti

  “You totally got this, Casey.”

  She smiled, and I could see the change in her mood from when we’d begun to where we were now. “The pretest for next week is tomorrow. I’ll kick Arcadian’s ass this time.”

  I looked around for Adam, but he hadn’t heard her. I gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you will.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, dashing down the hall. I heard the door to the bathroom close and looked down at the book one last time. The sticky note still covered the answers and so I scribbled a little encouraging note for her on it and moved it to the front of the section before closing the book.

  “You’re done?” Adam asked, coming in from the kitchen.

  I nodded. “She’s really smart. I’m sure you know that. I think she just needs to work on her own preparedness, and organization.” I showed him the backpack already stuffed with papers, some shoved in so they crumpled and others folded unequally like they’d been slipped into the backpack in haste. It made my eye twitch slightly, and if it was my backpack I would set it to rights immediately.

  “Have you ever seen her room? It’s probably a lost cause.” He laughed, sitting on the couch beside me. “But I’ll work on it with her. At least if we can start small with her backpack, maybe some organization will echo in her bedroom.”

  He was sitting so close to me that I could hear the gentle hum of his breathing. He bumped into me, in a friendly way, and said, “You hungry?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say no immediately. He’d been so wishy-washy with me lately, and the last thing I wanted was to spend more time with Adam—not knowing which Adam I would get—even with Casey as a buffer.

  But my dad’s text came to the forefront of my mind and I realized we still needed to talk through what to expect, to get our stories aligned.

  “Sure,” I said. “Want me to order something?”

  He laughed. “I already cooked.”

  “You cook?”

  “Sure.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’m not a chef, but I do okay. For Casey and me, at least. How are you with chicken? And pasta?”

  It surprised me that he’d cooked, and had thought to include a portion for me. “Pasta is one of my major food groups.”

  “As it should be.” The haunted look that had been in his eyes earlier had disappeared, leaving him looking more relaxed, settled.

  “Thanks for helping her out. It means a lot.”

  I swallowed. “Well, it’s only fair.” My breath got shallower, looking up at him, and I felt my limbs go a little stiff. “You get to meet the parents tomorrow night.”

  “Fuck,” he said, and I saw it dawn on his face. “That’s right.” He looked down at his clothes, which were his signature black. “What should I wear? What will your parents expect?”

  It bothered me that he asked that, that he worried about that. “You don’t need to dress up for them. Just be yourself.”

  “Well, what have you told them about me?”

  “I mean, technically Tori gave them your name. I’d never given my mystery suitor a name in the two years I lied about having one.”

  “When she gave them my name, were you surprised?”

  “That’s an understatement. I mean, it worked out fine, I suppose. I did tell them my fake sort of boyfriend was a musician, so you already have that down.”

  He held his hands out, his ink on full display. “I bet they won’t expect this.”

  He was right, but he didn’t appear embarrassed by his tattoos—which he shouldn’t be. They might’ve given him a bad boy look, but he was far from it. “They won’t, but they’ve already seen the photo. No doubt my dad has already looked up your family.”

  “Which means he’ll remember my dad. Who he fired.”

  I hadn’t thought too much about that, admittedly. “You have an uncommon name for this area, so I am sure it would’ve come up eventually anyway.” My fingers fidgeted on my lap. In some ways, I felt like I was preparing to lead him into the lion’s den. My dad would undoubtedly interrogate him—another reason I hadn’t dated in years—and I didn’t know how Adam would stand up to that kind of pressure and stress.

  “So, you want me to be myself?”

  “I don’t expect you to act.”

  “Well, there will be some degree of acting, right?” His arm draped across the back of the couch, behind my head. “After all, they’ll think we have been dating for the last couple of years.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed, feeling his warmth encroaching on my space in an unexpected but welcome way. I licked my lips. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Why won’t you look at me when we’re talking?”

  I did. “Because you make me nervous.”

  “Good.” I felt his fingers playing with the ends of my ponytail. Though he was gentle, it was as if I could feel it all the way to my scalp; a kind of acute awareness of his proximity and all the tension between us.

  His eyes searched mine, like he was watching to see where I cracked from his ministrations. And maybe he’d exploit that weakness, use it to his advantage because he’d have the upper hand then because he was a closed book, except for the warmth in his eyes when he looked at me. It unsettled me, that he could affect me with just his gaze.

  “Ew, get a room,” Casey said coming out of the bathroom and breaking us up.

  “We weren’t even kissing,” Adam said, standing up.

  “But you had that look on your face?”

  “What look?” Adam asked, looking at her with skepticism.

  “This one.” She made her eyes all heavy-lidded, tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. It was, well, pretty spot on, so I laughed. “Hollis gets it.”

  “Whatever.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking adorably uncomfortable from his sister’s teasing. “You hungry?”

  “Only always,” Casey said and grabbed my hand. “You can sit next to me, so Adam can play footsies with you under the table.”

  “Footsies?” Adam groaned. “We’re not in middle school.”

  He’d set the table, complete with a short, fat candle in the middle. The table runner was blue gingham and the ivory plates were laid out neatly, with forks and knives on pretty gingham napkins.

  “Wow,” Casey said, echoing my thoughts. “You must really like Hollis.”

  Adam looked at her the way I imagined most siblings would look at their younger ones when their balls were being busted. “You can eat in the old dog kennel out back.”

  Casey led me to the seat beside her and scrunched up her nose. “That thing is haunted.”

  “It’s a kennel, it’s not haunted.”

  “Caleb buried Goliath under it.”

  “Goliath?” I asked.

  “Gram’s Yorkie. He died a couple of years ago and Caleb thought we should use his kennel as a sort of headstone, I guess, so he buried him under it.”

  Adam looked less than amused by that. “Should’ve buried him out by the other animals, along the fence line.”

  “Caleb does what he wants,” she said, and I saw Adam control his mouth to not say anything in response to that. “This looks good, edible even.”

  “You’re really going for the jugular aren’t you, Case?”

  “Doesn’t he usually cook for you?” I asked, trying to prevent more sibling bickering. Using tongs, Adam held up a chicken breast for me and I lifted my plate. “Thanks,” I said to him, feeling suddenly, strangely, shy.

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t go to the trouble of setting the table and using real plates.” She shoveled a forkful into her mouth and mumbled, “It’s good.”

  I turned him, feeling an unfamiliar kind of warmth, sitting at the table with them both. Adam and I seemed to be settling into a comfortable kind of peace. We hadn’t really talked about what happened back in high school, but I hoped that whatever grudge he’d held against me had been buried for the time being.

  “Tomorrow, you’re going to stay wi
th Keane’s mom,” Adam said after a moment. “I’ve got to go to a dinner with Hollis.

  “Oh, you’re finally taking her on a date?” Casey said around a mouthful of food.

  “Ehhh,” he looked at me. “Not a date.”

  “Well, isn’t that what you guys are doing? Dating? Kinda requires a date, doesn’t it?”

  I smiled at Casey’s boldness, wondering what kind of person I might have been if that same independent streak had been nurtured rather than stifled growing up. “Okay, well then maybe it’s a sort of date,” I said, wanting to let Adam off the hook.

  “Have you played for her yet?”

  “No.” Adam cut into his chicken breast with a heavy hand. “You know you have to go to bed at some point tonight, right?” he said to her, pointing at her plate with his fork. “Eat up, Chatty Cathy.”

  “Who’s that?” Her mouth was full of food.

  Adam eyed her.

  “What?” Her shoulders lifted. “I’m eating, like you told me to.”

  “Hollis,” Adam said, directing his attention to me. “How is school? How are classes?”

  I chewed carefully, hoping there were no flecks of food in my teeth. “Good,” I said after swallowing. I waved at the plate. “This is really good, Adam. Thank you for dinner.”

  “I was cooking anyway,” he said, but I knew from what Casey had said that setting the table was an extra step he’d taken for me. “We’re eating dinner at your parents’ house, right?”

  “Yes. I have to bring a meat and cheese board with me. Would you mind coming over early tomorrow to help me prepare it?”

  “I’ve never done one before.” I could see the unease settling in. He took a large sip of his water.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll show you. We’ll do it together.” With that last word, I scooped up another bite so that my mouth was full.

  Adam cut into his chicken breast and looked at me thoughtfully. His gazes were warmer lately, and if I thought having him look at me any way other than contempt would be a relief, I was wrong. Because the look he gave me, like I was a puzzle he was putting together, made me feel vulnerable, naked in front of him. And it’d been a long time since I had been naked in front of anyone.

  “You’re doing it again,” Casey said.

  “What?”

  “Looking at her like you need to get a room.”

  At that, Adam stared down at his plate for the remainder of the meal.

  22

  Adam

  Hey stranger. What’s going on? I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me. Don’t make me go to Idaho just to talk to you.

  I stared at Sarah’s text for what felt like an eternity. I was avoiding her. I knew she’d see through the Hollis stuff, and she’d bust my balls for it and the last fucking thing I needed was my ex-girlfriend poking her nose into my business. So I ignored the conversation for now, promising myself to reply eventually.

  “Who’s that?” Casey asked as I got ready. I tried a tie and then ripped it off my neck in frustration. Hollis had told me just to be myself.

  “Sarah,” I said. “My ex.”

  Casey scrunched up her nose. “Why is she texting you when you have a girlfriend?”

  “Because she’s a friend.”

  “Then why’d you make that face before tucking your phone away?”

  I sighed. Casey was too damn astute for her age. “Because she wants to talk about Hollis, and I don’t want to talk about Hollis with her right now.”

  “Why? Maybe that’ll get her to back off.”

  Casey had no idea how far off base she was. “I doubt that.”

  “Well, I think Hollis is great. The best decision you made, asking her to be your girlfriend.”

  Except I hadn’t asked. A fact that made me more than a little agitated that I was lying to Casey, as well as everyone else. And there was still more lying to come.

  “You know what she did?” Casey asked me when I didn’t say anything. “She left me a little note in my textbook. Telling me I was going to kick butt on that test.” Casey grinned. “It’s funny that she doesn’t say swear words.”

  “I’m sure she does.” I frowned, trying to remember when she had, but couldn’t remember hearing a single bad word from her mouth.

  “She even drew a little thumbs up emoji thing on it.” Casey smiled at me. “I know it was just a little note, but it helped me focus. Reminded me that she believed in me.”

  I was trying to retain what Casey was saying, but her last sentence threw me. “I believe in you, you know.”

  She rolled her eyes in a “duh,” kind of way. “But you’re my brother. You’re supposed to believe in me. Having her believe in me, I dunno, meant something I guess.”

  “Glad to know my opinion means so little,” I said drily.

  “That’s not what I said, butthole. I meant that she has no reason to believe in me, but she does.”

  Casey needed more female influences in her life, besides Gram and Keane’s mom. As she was getting older, growing into herself as a young woman, she’d need a steady presence in her life. And not for the first time, I mentally kicked myself in the shins for bringing Hollis into Casey’s life. Once this ruse was over, Hollis would have no obligation to stick around. And just like our father and Caleb had done, she’d leave Casey without another thought.

  But there was a little voice in the back of my head, asking me if that was even true. Would she abandon Casey when she and I were done? If you’d asked me a week ago, my answer would have been resolute: YES. But now? It was if I was peeling her back, little by little, understanding how she worked all the more. I knew that meeting her parents would help me understand her more clearly.

  A knock at the door surprised me. I was going to Hollis’s house, to help her with the cheeseboard. Keane was at work, and Keane’s mom was expecting me to drop Casey off.

  “I’ll get it!” Casey said, skipping off to the door.

  I attempted one more tie before giving it up. My black button up was fitted and long sleeved, which felt formal enough. Hollis had told me to be myself, so fuck the tie. I opened the bottom dresser drawer, where I kept things I never used—like ties—and a tiny slip of paper in the bottom of the drawer caught my eye and held my attention. Gram hadn’t changed my room since I had left for Colorado, so my bedroom was really a time capsule for my high school life. Upon pulling out the square note, I was instantly flooded with memories.

  Adam. I loved your speech.

  I looked over the crudely drawn rose and briefly debated tossing the thing, but something nagged at the back of my mind, so I smoothed out the note. A high-pitched squeal of glee from Casey pulled my attention away from the note and back to the task at hand.

  “Who is it?” I called out as I pulled my first boot on. When Casey remained silent, I rose from the bed and exited the room.

  Instantly, red colored my vision and anger flooded my veins. I should have fucking known.

  “Hey, bud,” my dad said as he let go of Casey, setting her on the ground and turning to me. “Well? Miss your old man?”

  I struggled to keep my anger under control, for Casey’s sake alone. In his hand he held a few mylar balloons, wilted and used up. One of them said, “It’s a girl” as it tried to decide whether to be up or down.

  “The, uh, grocery store didn’t have a great selection.” He held them up. He looked, surprisingly, put together. His beard was gone, his hair was trimmed, and his clothes looked clean. Casey stared up at him adoringly, as if he was some saint sent to rescue her.

  “I don’t have to go to Mrs. C’s house after all,” she said. She looked happier than she’d been in a long time, and for a moment—one selfish moment—I wanted her to see him the way I did. I wanted to rip her hand from his arm, so that none of her light was wasted on him. He didn’t deserve an ounce of her love, her affection, her attention. And yet, she loved him. But loving my dad was asking for hurt, and that was what I wanted to shield her from.

&nbs
p; “Maybe you should still go to Mrs. C’s house,” I said, still not speaking to him. I was looking at him, all right, like someone would watch a wild animal. My dad was unpredictable, and that was why he was such a threat.

  “No,” she said, her voice high pitched and borderline whiny. “I want to stay with Dad. He’s taking me to dinner!”

  “For her birthday.” My dad folded his body onto the couch, arm draped over the back of it like he fucking belonged there, like he was going to stay there. “House looks different.” He stared at the bed we’d moved in for Gram.

  “Gram comes home on Monday,” Casey said, sitting next to him. “We could go see her,” she said. “After dinner? Maybe we could even bring her dinner!”

  Casey’s excitement was on a runaway train, and nothing I could say would stop her hope. That was the tragedy of childhood—you hoped and you hoped until someone let you down. While my friends had learned how to play basketball from their dads, I’d learned how to wait in vain for a day that never came.

  “Mrs. C is expecting you.”

  “The kid wants to spend time with me,” my dad said, and I wanted to remind him of her name. She wasn’t a kid, not really, not anymore. But he only saw her the way he remembered her, in some technicolor dreamland where he was the good guy, the guy who showed up, who kept his promises, the guy everyone loved. Unfortunately for him, I stopped having that kind of blind faith when I was younger than Casey.

  What was I going to do? It wasn’t like I could tell him no. Technically, he was still Casey’s only guardian in the eyes of the law. If I dragged her to Mrs. C’s house, Casey would only find a way back here. And he would follow. It wasn’t like Amber Lake was a big town. If he wanted to find her, he would. He looked clean, he didn’t reek of alcohol, and his eyes were clear.

  I didn’t want to go to dinner with Hollis’s family, not now. With my dad being in town, I wanted to watch him, to protect Casey from the hurt he’d inevitably give her. But the time was ticking, and if I didn’t leave soon, I’d be late.