Tell Me a Truth: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Coralee June

  “You—you got something right here,” Max taunted while wiping at his cheek. I hurried out of the booth I was sitting in and circled the table to get closer to him.

  “I’m sorry, where did you say it was?” I asked with glee. He reached for the napkin as if preparing to wipe my face for me, and I went in for the kill. Pressing my lips to his cheek, I smeared the chocolate icing all over his face as laughter erupted from my chest. Flakes and crumbs littered the collar of his school uniform, and he grabbed my wrist, yanking me into the booth with him as we both roared with laughter.

  It took us a moment to clean up, and I still had icing all over my shirt. Maximillian’s lips were stained from the icing, and there was a clump of chocolate stuck in his hair. We looked a mess, and I didn’t even care. It was worth it.

  Once the icing was long gone, we shared a fork and took bites out of the destroyed cake. It was friendly intimacy, sharing a utensil. And the way Maximillian kept looking at me made me wonder if he thought more of this day than I did. It made me feel bad. How could I possibly explain to him that my mind was preoccupied? How could I possibly be interested in someone else when I still felt remnants of the fire that sizzled between Decker and me?

  “Maximillian Hemsworth, stop looking at me with those loving eyes of yours.” I tsked. A slight blush kissed his cheeks and brushed along the tips of his ears. I didn’t mean to embarrass him, but the coy smile he was throwing as he looked at me made me pause.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Blakely Stewart. I look how I always do,” he argued. “Who’s got your heart so twisted up that you can’t even think straight?” His question shocked the hell out of me.

  “I-I don’t know what you mean. Why would you say that?” I asked. Suddenly the bakery seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and it was like four walls were caged around my heart.

  “I know when to quit when I’m ahead. Anytime I put my incredible moves on you, you get this sad look in your eyes. I don’t know if you know this, but I attend a school for geniuses. I can pick up on a girl that isn’t into me pretty well. There’s this thing called body language and social cues.”

  I frowned despite his harmless banter. I didn’t want things to change between us, but there would never really be anything there. It was like going into space and seeing how small the world really was first hand. You never looked at earth the same way again. “I want to like you. You’re much more agreeable and better looking.”

  “I bet my dick is bigger, too,” Maximillian joked.

  “Probably. Wanna strip down so I can compare?”

  Maximillian stood up and tugged at the button on his uniform slacks. “Don’t tempt me, Blakely Stewart.” I threw my hands up in mock surrender, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. His eyes peered into mine, that boyish smile hiding the questioning thoughts beneath. Max must have seen the terror on my face. Or maybe he realized I was too damaged, too distant to pursue anymore, because he pulled away.

  “So,” he began with a smile. “How about that drink?”

  19

  Decker

  I’d been pacing the floors for the past two hours. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, and I was acting like a caveman.

  When I’d called Lance to let him know that Blakely wasn’t in class today, he seemed unconcerned. “She texted me that she was taking the day off with Maximillian. It’s our mother’s birthday, so she needed a low-key day.”

  I didn’t like that I didn’t know today was her mother’s birthday. I also didn’t like that, instead of spending the day with me, she sought out Maximillian Fucking Hemsworth for comfort. If I were honest, I didn’t like a lot of things lately, especially the distance between a girl I shouldn’t be obsessing over and me.

  I’d called her three times, debating on a fourth. Lance was in Louisiana and kept assuring me that she was okay. I wasn’t convinced. Visions of Maximillian holding her close and capitalizing on her vulnerability made me sick to my stomach, and then I wanted to punch myself because I wasn’t any better. The night at Huck-a-poos still haunted me. I wanted to hold her again.

  I knew that if I bugged Lance about it any more, he’d start asking questions. I was in a precarious position, straddling concern with distance so we could keep our attraction to one another a secret.

  But was there any attraction left? She avoided me like the plague now. The pull was one-sided, and it fucked me up to know I couldn’t just forget how soft her skin felt or how she moaned at my touch. I had to wade through my restraint like it was a bowl of molasses.

  The front door to our loft opened and in stumbled a staggering Blakely in the arms of Maximillian. Her laughter was like clumsy bells falling to the floor. The moment Max saw me, his eyes widened with fear.

  Good.

  “Mr. Harris,” he greeted as Blakely pulled a nimble finger up and pressed it against her lips with a giggle. She was shushing me.

  She was drunk off her ass.

  “You skipped my class today and now show up drunk?” I gritted out with a sneer. Max had the decency to flinch. “You better not have driven her home if you drank, Max. So help me God.” I clenched my fist in anger, reminding myself that I’d go to jail if I kicked his ass right here and now. Max let go of Blakely to throw his hands up in surrender.

  “Oh, no, no. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. Promise,” he said just as Blakely’s heel slipped and she went crashing down to the ground. I jumped into action just as Max grabbed her elbow. She was like dead weight though, because he couldn’t haul her up.

  Weak ass punk.

  “Move,” I ordered before bending over and picking Blakely up. Once she was cradled in my arms, I turned to look at Maximillian. “You have detention for the next month. Get the fuck out of my house,” I yelled, not caring that it was inappropriate to be holding Blakely against my chest or that I was abusing my power as his teacher to inflict punishment when I didn’t have the right. “And if I hear that you took advantage of her vulnerable state, I will make it my personal mission to punish you to the full extent of the law,” I growled.

  Maximillian blinked. “Careful, Mr. H., I can’t tell if you sound like a jealous boyfriend or her father.”

  I lifted Blakely to steady her in my shaking arms. I wasn’t even shaking because she was heavy—because she was way too light. Was she eating enough? Fuck, why was I worried about her eating habits?

  I was shaking because I was so angry at this asshole for calling me out. “Is there something you’d like to say, kid?” I sneered. Blakely moaned in my lap, and I figured we had about twenty seconds before she was vomiting all over the front of my shirt.

  Maximillian gave me a sly smile. It was one of those knowing grins that made me want to punch his teeth in. “After a few shots, she talked about you a lot. I’m not one to judge, but I suggest you take a hard look at yourself before accusing me of preying on a vulnerable girl.” Max then reached up to brush a blonde strand out of Blakely’s eyes. “See you in class, Mr. H,” he said before spinning around and leaving the loft. Maximillian Hemsworth was going to be a problem.

  I didn’t even have time to think about the shit storm that was brewing, because Blakely groaned against my chest once more. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whimpered. My feet moved lightning fast to our bathroom, and I set her down on the cold tile before flipping up the toilet lid.

  Her body folded over as she emptied the liquid contents of her stomach into the bowl. I gathered her hair up in my fist, keeping it out of the projectile vomit. Although it was disgusting, it was a strangely intimate move that had my body growing stiff with protectiveness and care. I tried to convince myself that it was second nature to me. I’d held my own mother’s hair up plenty of times when I was a teen. But I knew deep down that wasn’t it. I wanted to help Blakely. I wanted to be the one that comforted her and took care of her.

  She heaved until her stomach was empty, then sat down on the floor, those crayon-green eyes squeezed shut. Grabbing a washcloth from th
e cabinet, I wet it with cold water before handing it to her.

  “Would you like another truth, Mr. Harris?” she slurred. Her voice was gravelly, and I wondered if she was going to puke again.

  “I want you to brush your teeth,” I said before grabbing her toothbrush and squirting the mint toothpaste onto the bristles. After handing it to her, I leaned against the bathroom vanity with my arms crossed over my chest and watched in rapt attention as she scrubbed her mouth clean of the vomit and alcohol.

  When she was done, she stood up and leaned over the basin, spitting foamy toothpaste into it as her arm brushed against mine. I stiffened at the contact and told my dick to calm the fuck down. She was covered in sweat and vomit, and yet here I was getting hard at the thought of her—sick bastard. I was a fucking sick bastard. She touched me again, and based on the alcohol seeping through her pores, I briefly entertained the question of whether one could get a contact drunk.

  Once she was done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The charcoal makeup that lined her eyes was now smeared. The blood vessels around her lips were prominent, and boozy sweat dripped down her forehead.

  “I kind of look like her,” Blakely said in astonishment. She lifted her nimble fingers to pinch her cheek as if the movement could wake her up. The alcohol probably made her entire face numb.

  “Like who?” I asked, although I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

  “Like Mama. Isn’t it funny how we all become our parents? You took care of me like I used to take care of her. I can’t remember a birthday that didn’t end like this. Seems fitting that I would celebrate in typical Sharron fashion.” She let out a disgusted huff.

  “I’ll agree that tonight was a poor decision,” I deadpanned. “But one night does not make you like her. I wish you would’ve talked to me, though, instead of letting Maximillian Hemsworth get you drunk.”

  She spun around to face me, then poked at my chest with her index finger. “Talk to you? We are so busy avoiding one another that I almost forget you exist.”

  Her words were like a hammer to the chest. Blow after blow; she crunched the bones and tendons until she was beating my heart. “I’m sorry, Blakely,” I replied, mostly because I didn’t know what else I could say. There was no easy solution for this. I couldn’t allow myself to be close, but it also killed me to not be there for her. Somewhere along the way, I had grown to care about Blakely’s happiness genuinely. This didn’t look happy to me.

  Her finger was still poised at my chest, though it wasn’t jabbing me anymore. I looked down as her hand flattened against my muscles. I let out a sigh of content as her warm palm circled my pecs.

  “Let’s get you to bed,” I rasped. She wasn’t in the proper state to make good decisions, and I wasn’t strong enough to tell her no. We were just a collection of wilted weaknesses.

  I guided her across the hall and into her bedroom. The moment I opened her door and stepped inside, the smell of her orange shampoo invaded my senses. It was bright with inviting hints of vanilla. I wanted to roll around in it.

  On her desk was a stack of books and homework. Her work uniform was tossed on the floor. It looked so incredibly lived in, and yet we have been avoiding each other so much that I forgot we were even roommates. I wanted to examine every inch, take in her life. But instead, I guided her to her bed and sat her down.

  Kneeling at her feet, I helped her out of the high heels that she was determined to wear every day to torture me. I wanted to rub the arch of her feet, which would likely be throbbing tomorrow. I was at war with myself and ultimately decided that a simple massage was necessary. Cupping her foot in my hand, I ran my thumb down her arch, letting out a hiss of need when her body shivered at my touch.

  “I wish I weren’t drunk so I could fully enjoy this,” Blakely said with a slight giggle. Her reckless decision was a stark reminder of the age difference between us. I had long ago given up wild nights. I liked to toss a couple of beers back with Lance, but my college party days were over. Hers were just about to begin.

  “You’re lucky Lance isn’t here,” I growled before grabbing her other foot and massaging the heel for just a moment. I wasn’t actually sure Lance would care. He was always the free spirited one, and he was so focused on gaining her approval that he probably wouldn’t say a damn thing.

  “You’re right,” she said before leaning all the way back and plopping her back against the mattress. I was eye level with her panties, which were on full display thanks to the schoolgirl skirt she still wore. I swallowed, daring myself to look while admonishing myself. I had always considered myself to be a gentleman, and I wouldn’t stop now.

  Standing up, I eased her legs onto the mattress and helped her guide her head toward the pillow. Lifting the soft comforter, I tucked her in. “Are you going to tell me a bedtime story?” she joked. Those green eyes of hers were heavy with exhaustion. I saw all the weight beneath them. Today was difficult for her, even though she wasn’t willing to admit it.

  And maybe it was because I knew she needed a brief reprieve from the guilt harbored in her soul regarding her mother’s death, I obliged. “There once was a little boy,” I began before sitting on the edge of her mattress. She reached out to grab my hand, lightly squeezing it in encouragement to continue.

  “He had it all. Two parents he thought he could look up to and a great big house. Everyone adored him.” She snuggled deeper into the mattress, and I bet if she had a bowl of popcorn, she’d be happily munching on it as she stared at me. “But then that little boy grew up. He realized that parents were just regular people. With regular problems. He realized that big house was actually pretty lonely.”

  Blakely interrupted. “This is a somber bedtime story, Mr. Harris.”

  I shushed her before continuing. “But then he made a friend. And that big, lonely house didn’t feel so lonely anymore. And those disappointing parents didn’t feel as disappointing anymore. And his friend made him see the world differently. His friend became family, and he made a promise that he would protect that friend with everything he had. They lived happily ever after.”

  When I looked up at Blakely, mist had gathered in her drunken eyes. She was fighting to stay awake, as well is fighting the emotions bubbling up in her chest. It was important to me that she knew who Lance was in my life. She needed to understand why I had to keep things separate. Lance was my person, and fuck if that didn’t make me feel like a pussy for saying it. But he was. I got up, not willing to continue this story anymore.

  “Hey, Mr. Harris?” she asked. Sleep was heavy, and so was her tone.

  I was walking toward her bedroom door when I finally answered. “Yeah?”

  “Do you think I’ll ever find a friend like that?”

  I wanted to tell her that I could be that person for her. I wanted to take the loneliness in her cavernous heart and make it warm and inviting. I opened my mouth, determined to tell her all the ways I would fix the pain of her past. But light snores interrupted me. She was fast asleep.

  Yeah, Blakely. I think you will.

  20

  Blakely

  The shrill ringing of my cell phone woke me up. My head was slightly throbbing, and it smelled like I went for a swim in a bottle of Jack. Reaching for my phone, I frowned when I realized it was four in the afternoon. Had I seriously slept that long?

  “Hello?” My voice was raspy like I’d smoked a pack of cigarettes, then grated my vocal cords down with sandpaper.

  “Bumble Bee? Why do you sound hungover as hell?” Dad asked with a chuckle. I warmed at the familiar nickname he had for me as a kid. It had been a while since anyone had called me that.

  “Because I am.” I didn’t bother lying to the old man, and he wouldn’t judge me. He’d had his fair share of benders in his time.

  “Well, take some Advil and drink a Gatorade; I wanna take my best girl out to dinner,” Dad boomed into the speaker of the phone, and I winced at the loud sound. He was taking full advantage of my pounding head,
likely trying to highlight the consequences of hitting the bottle too hard so that I didn’t go down the same path as him.

  “Okay,” I choked out. My body wanted to hide under the covers, but I was excited to see Dad again. I could stomach feeling miserable for a dinner date with him.

  “Pick you up in two hours. I got a car!” he exclaimed excitedly.

  “Can’t wait to see it and hound you for running stoplights,” I replied in good humor. “See you soon! Love you.”

  “Love you too, kid.” We hung up, and I clutched my phone to my chest. Despite feeling like hell, I was excited to see Dad again. It felt nice to find some normalcy in our relationship.

  I stretched my hands high above my head, releasing the built-up tension in my spine. I then rolled my neck, listening to the greedy pops as my bones settled. My stomach sloshed from the alcohol still moving around in it. What day was it? Thursday? I was undoubtedly going to get in trouble for cutting class two days in a row. I didn’t even want to think about all the homework I needed to catch up on.

  I turned to look at my nightstand and smiled when I saw a sheet of paper there. Grabbing it, I read the impatiently scrawled words in a reckless script.

  Told the school you have the flu. You owe me a truth. Drink some damn water. Lance comes home tonight. Decker

  My heart swelled as I tried to run through everything that had happened last night. Aside from the tender moment at the bakery, Maximillian slipped into strictly platonic territory. Only occasionally did his hand linger on my arm for too long, or I caught him staring at me with hope. Maximillian seemed to sense that I needed a friend more than a flirtatious love interest last night and made sure to make things easy and fun. I quickly wrote him a text, thanking him for the booze and for taking me home, before tossing my phone on the bed and walking into my bathroom.

  The moment my eyes hit the toilet, embarrassment hit me like the vomit I spewed last night. I purged shame through my pores. I couldn’t even look at the porcelain throne without blushing. Decker had held my hair up. He was attentive and kind. The part of me that refused to hope said he did it out of a sense of duty, but I knew better. Decker still cared, so what was I going to do with that information?