Practice to Deceive

by Olivia Evans

  “Not a drunk girl,” I corrected. “My drunk girl. There’s a difference.”

  She peeked from under her arm and smiled. It was sleepy and sweet and fucking perfect. “Thanks.”

  “I need to head home and get ready. Why don’t you rest, then meet me back at my place later?” A lump formed in my throat as my heart pounded furiously against my ribs, the drumbeat roaring in my ears.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Her voice sounded like I was hearing it underwater, muted, distorted.

  I blinked rapidly, trying to make my vision sharpen, focus. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just nervous.”

  “You’ll do great. You’ll do more than great. You’re totally going to kick ass.” I glanced at her. The huge smile on her face made my chest ache for so many different reasons.

  “So, you’ll meet me later? At my apartment?” I asked again, my palms sweating.

  “Yeah, sure. I’m going to lie here and die for a while. Then I’ll shower and come over. Okay?”

  “Okay. I’ve got to get going.” I leaned over and kissed her, my lips moving over hers, my hands brushing against her sides, absorbing her heat, her touch, her taste, her smell. I wanted it all with me.

  I pulled away slowly, our eyes locked, the intensity of our gazes full of so many unspoken words and emotions. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. The words were right there, begging to be released, wanting to pass my lips but refusing to do so.

  “I’ll see you around eleven,” I whispered, leaning forward and pressing my lips to her forehead, my eyes squeezed shut. This wouldn’t be the last time I kissed her. It wouldn’t be the last time she smiled at me or melted into my arms. Because I was going to make sure she knew everything, and that included how much I love her.

  “Eleven.” She smiled, sliding back under the covers.

  I pulled on my undershirt and slipped on my shoes before locking her front door and heading to my place. I only had an hour to get home, eat, and meet the recruiter. I thought about the tests they would administer today, four words playing on a loop in my head: I was so fucked.

  I slipped in and out of the apartment unnoticed, Rachel and Drew apparently sleeping off their hangovers as well. I walked through the front door of the local field office five minutes before my appointment, wound up and exhausted all at once.

  “Mr. Dixon? I’m Agent Sims. Are you ready?” he asked, grasping my hand firmly.

  “Yes, sir.” I nodded, following as he led me down the hall.

  “You remember the self-assessment physical you performed when you took your Phase I testing, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. It’s the exact same test. We have the results you submitted at that time. We’ll be comparing those against your times and counts today.”

  We moved to a mat at the far side of the room, Agent Sims taking a seat at the table to the left.

  “All right. Sit-ups first, maximum number you can complete in one minute,” he instructed, looking down at the papers in front of him. “Do you remember your results from the first test?”

  “Yes, sir. Thirty-seven,” I answered, sitting on the mat and stretching. Fuck, I was in such better shape then, and I’d been rested, my mind had been clear. I was so fucked.

  “When you’re ready.” He nodded, his thumb hovering over the start button of his stopwatch.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. I tried to push all the bullshit out of my head, but it seemed the harder I tried, the less I was able to do so. All the stress had me wound so tight, I felt like I was going to explode. Suddenly, I realized exactly how I was going to get through today.

  “Go,” I grunted, falling back on the mat.

  One. Months of anger and self-destruction.

  Eight. Late nights, hangovers, and one-night stands.

  Seventeen. Skylar, the plan, the lies.

  Twenty-nine. Revelations.

  Thirty-six. Learning her.

  Forty-five. Loving her.

  “Time. Excellent job, Mr. Dixon. That was eight more than last time. Let’s see if you can keep this up.” Agent Sims smiled. I fell against the mat, panting, sweat running down the sides of my face, my lungs on fire.

  “Grab some water. We’ll start the next test in five.”

  I did as he said and followed him to the indoor track. Next was the three-hundred-meter sprint. I was afraid I’d burned too much energy with the sit-ups and would bomb the run. My last run time had been fifty seconds and was considered to be in the “very good” category. I needed to beat that. I had to beat that.

  I jogged up and down one side of the track, my breathing starting to regulate once more. I had to find a way to channel all the anxiety inside me again, make it useful for a change. I moved into place at the starting line as Agent Sims moved to the finish line and took a seat in the stands. He held up a flag and eyed me for a second. I nodded and focused on his wrist, waiting for the flicker of movement that would indicate my start.

  His wrist dropped, the flag dipping down and back up quickly, and I was gone. I bent my knee slightly before straightening it forcefully and launching my body forward. I kept my arms tucked close to my sides, my strides long, my feet planting and pushing, propelling me faster. I thought about all of the running I’d done from myself, from the truth. And then it was over; somehow, I’d done it again.

  “Very nice,” Agent Sims yelled as I braced my hands against my knees. “Forty-eight seconds, still considered very good, but better than your last time, and that’s what matters.”

  I nodded, still unable to speak as I fought back the urge to vomit. Two tests down, two to go. If I thought that revelation would be comforting, I was wrong. If anything, it made the urge to vomit even greater. I was that much closer to seeing Skylar. That much closer to coming clean about things I’d never wanted to tell her. Things I wished I’d never done.

  By the time I finished the push-ups test and the mile-and-a-half run, I actually did vomit. I also beat both of my previous times. I was jittery and jumpy and fucking wrecked from exhaustion. I had no idea how I was going to get through this day, but I’d made my decision, and I wasn’t going to back down.

  I thought after I completed the exercises I’d be able to leave, but it seemed Agent Sims wanted to talk, and that was after he decided we should eat a late breakfast. I wanted to check my phone to see if I’d missed a call from Skylar, but I didn’t want to be rude. So, I smiled and laughed in all the right places and ignored the growing sense of foreboding that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

  It was already eleven when I was finally able to say my goodbyes and get out of there. I powered on my phone and dialed Skylar’s number. I wanted to see if she was at my apartment and to let her know I was on my way, but her voice mail picked up instead. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. I wasn’t sure if it was my nerves and guilt or something more, but either way, it freaked me out.

  I tried calling her again, and again her phone went to voice mail. I shook my head and took a deep breath. Everything was fine. I was overreacting. I grabbed a cab instead of waiting on the bus to try to make up some time. I jogged up the stairs to my apartment, hoping to find Skylar there. When I rounded the corner, the door was ajar. A sense of unease crept up my spine, and the fatigue I’d felt seconds before melted away. Sprinting down the hall, I rushed into the living room. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find, but nothing could have prepared me for the scene in front of me.

  Skylar was on her knees in the middle of my living room, sheets of paper clutched in her hands. I took a quick look around the room. Paper was scattered everywhere, balled and ripped. My heart clenched when I spotted a familiar, well-worn book lying haphazardly on the floor.

  Every muscle in my body protested as I looked back to Skylar. The tears dripping from her chin when she lifted her head caused my vision to swim. I felt the color drain from my face as realization of what she’d found set in.

  “Baby,” I whispered, moving tow
ard her.

  “Don’t!” she spat, jumping to her feet. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that. You don’t get to call me that ever again.” She clenched her fists, the paper crinkling as she stared at her hands.

  A sob tore from her throat, and it caused my stomach to drop. She needed to know I was sorry. Things were different now. I was in love with her. When she lifted her eyes, the dead, lifeless glaze on them was like ice in my veins, stealing the breath from my lungs.

  “So, I was revenge.” The flat, monotone pitch of her voice matched her amber eyes.

  “No, Skylar. No, no, no.” This wasn’t how she was supposed to find out. I couldn’t lose her; the thought alone was crushing.

  “And all this?” she asked with a humorless chuckle, her arms sweeping wide over the destruction of my living room where she had ripped out page after page of my journal. The journal that detailed every thought, every secret, every wrong I’d ever done to her.

  “That was before,” I choked, stepping closer to her, unable to stay away any longer. “I was going to tell you everything, I promise. I can’t lose you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  I reached up and swept the pad of my thumb across her cheek, cupping the underside of her jaw with my other hand, absorbing the feel of her skin against mine. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  “It’s too late. You already have,” she whispered, stepping away from me. The look of pain on her beautiful face was crippling.

  “Don’t do this. We can fix this. I know we can,” I pleaded, feeling the stranglehold of dread wrap its hands around my throat.

  “You did this, not me. I’m done,” she said, her voice biting as she dropped the papers. She moved to step around me, but I reached out and pulled her to me before falling to my knees. I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face against her stomach.

  She pushed on my shoulders, but the harder she pushed, the tighter I squeezed. I knew, I knew as soon as I let her go, she would leave me. The image caused bile to burn the back of my throat.

  She stopped pushing, her arms falling to her sides. “Brennan, look at me.”

  I shook my head, unable to look her in the eye, knowing the pain I would see was my own doing.

  “Haven’t you hurt me enough?” she cried, her hands finding my hair and yanking roughly, forcing me to look at her. Her face was crumpled, brows pulled down, her chin quivering as she clenched her jaw.

  “I love you, Skylar. Please give me a chance to fix this.” I knew how messed up it was to tell her I loved her for the first time like this, but she needed to know, she needed to understand. She sucked in a sharp breath, tightening her hands in my hair once more before releasing it altogether.

  “No, you don’t. You don’t treat people you love the way you’ve treated me. Now let me go, Brennan.”

  I loosened my arms slowly before dropping them to my sides. Holding her against her will wasn’t going to solve anything, but she needed to understand that I did love her, so fucking much.

  “I do, Skylar. I know you don’t want to believe me, but a part of you knows it’s true.” I was so angry with myself for not fixing this shit a long time ago. She laughed again, but it was mean and hard, nothing like the sweet girl I’d held in my arms hours earlier.

  “Well,” she sighed. “That really fucking sucks for you, because I don’t love you. I can’t even look at you.” Her face twisted with disgust as she walked to the open door.

  “Please.”

  “Fuck you, Brennan,” she spat, walking out the door and leaving me in the same position I’d found her in minutes earlier. My entire world had just imploded, and I had no one but myself to blame.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor. The mere sight of the door made me nauseous. I felt numb. Nothing made sense. I knew what just happened, but why? What made her read my journal? Why today?

  I yanked my phone from my pocket and pressed the call button over her name. I needed to talk to her, needed to explain; I just needed her. But each call ended the same as the one before.

  Hi, you’ve reached Skylar…end call.

  Hi, you’ve reached Skylar…end call.

  Hi, you’ve reached Skylar…end call.

  Hi, you’ve reached Skylar…end call.

  I pressed my palm into my eye, trying to push back my emotions, hold everything in. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was going to tell her, explain. I flipped my phone over and opened my text messages. If I could get her to read one, just one, maybe I’d be able to get through to her. That was when I saw it, a missed text from Skylar.

  My hands shook as I opened the message, hope and fear slamming into me. But as soon as the message opened, nothing but all-consuming dread wrapped around my shoulders and yanked me under, plummeting me straight into hell.

  Matt called, meeting him for coffee. I NEED coffee and greasy food. See you soon!

  I was on my feet too fast to realize I’d lost all feeling in my legs. I tripped and fell back to the floor, pins, needles, and red-hot pain prickling over my skin holding me in place when all I wanted to do was run. Run like I had today, only with more purpose, more determination, and no anxiety, only anger.

  I slammed my hands against my legs, lifting and shaking them, fighting against the weight, fighting against the pain, fighting to get on my feet and out of that fucking apartment. I pulled my knees to my chest and planted my feet on the floor before shoving my body upright. A few painful, unsteady steps later and I was out the door, with only one destination in mind.

  The red haze that blinded my vision had not lessened by the time I reached the fraternity house. I jogged up the steps and shoved the front door open, my eyes sweeping across the room. I was looking for one person, and once I found him, I wasn’t sure the result wouldn’t end with me in jail.

  “Matt,” I demanded.

  One of the guys on the couch gaped at me, his eyes wide. I briefly wondered what I must have looked like to them, but I dismissed the thought immediately. I couldn’t give a fuck what I looked like.

  “Where the fuck is he?” I yelled, my fists clenched, the frayed thread of my patience ready to snap.

  “Upstairs. Sec-second door on the right,” one guy stuttered.

  I headed for the stairs, taking two at a time. Three strides from the landing and I was in front of his room. I lifted my foot and kicked the door, the wood splintering at the lock. It banged against the wall, almost closing again before I shot out my hand to stop it.

  “What the fu—” Matt yelled, his eyes growing wide as he flipped to his back on the bed. I strode over to him, grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and hauling him to his feet before slamming his back against the wall and moving so close, our noses nearly touched.

  “Why?” I ground out through clenched teeth. He stared at me, unspeaking, for a beat too fucking long. I pulled him away from the wall and slammed him against it again. “Why?” I roared, my body shaking.

  He tried to shove me away, but I tightened my hands on his shirt and spun us around, my foot sliding out and tripping him, sending his body to the floor as I hovered above him.

  “Answer me, goddammit!”

  “Because I saw you, asshole!” he yelled, his hands wrapping around my wrists. “I saw you with Terri last night, you piece of shit.”

  I felt my face slacken as I yanked my hands away from Matt’s shirt like I’d been burned. I stumbled over him to the other side of the room, slamming my palms flat against the wall to brace myself. I heard shuffling behind me, but I didn’t bother to turn around. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

  “Got nothing to say now, do you?” he spat. “I thought you had changed. I thought you were the guy from before, my best friend but better. I’ve seen you with Skylar. I see you two all the damn time. But I made myself scarce because Jared said you’d really fallen for her.” He made some sort of disgusted noise that caused me to finally face him.

  “And I promised to keep my mouth shut,” he contin
ued, his eyes boring into mine. “Because I fucking owed you, because that night had gone so fucking wrong. But, now? Watching you grope Terri, pin her against the wall and kiss her? You fucking disgust me.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face as my stomach dropped, and hot, rancid bile erupted and burned the back of my throat so violently, my eyes began to water.

  “No,” I whispered. There was no way he’d just taken everything away from me over a misunderstanding. Surely life wasn’t that fucking cruel.

  “Yes,” he sneered. “So, I told her. I told her about us. I told her about what happened with Terri. I told her about our run-in over Thanksgiving. I told her about last night. I told her every fucking thing. I’m assuming since you’re here, she actually listened to me. Did she confront you? Or did she do like I suggested and read that fucking diary you write in every day?”

  “What the fuck, man?” I choked, shaking my head from side to side. I fell against the wall, my fingers gripping my thighs as I bent over, trying to force air into my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut before shoving my hands into my knees and pushing myself upright.

  I stared at him, my disbelief fading as anger rippled through me, igniting a fire that felt like it was clawing its way out from underneath my skin.

  “What the fuck, man?” I slammed my fist into the wall to my right, the sheetrock cracking. My voice had risen, my nose and eyes burning as tears I had no fucking control over blurred my vision.

  “What the motherfuck, Matt?” I roared, my eyes never leaving his. I pounded my fist into the wall again, the skin over my knuckles splitting as my hand broke through the wall.

  “I’m not fucking around with Terri! She came on to me. She fucking kissed me! I don’t fucking cheat.” I raised my fist, drawing back once, twice, without making contact, my movement small and jerky, before the weight of my arm was suddenly too much to bear and I dropped it heavily to my side.

  I lowered my eyes to the carpet where blood from my knuckles ran down my fingers and dripped onto the floor. I felt so drained, so tired, and so fucking defeated. “I would never cheat on Skylar.”