Lies and Other Drugs (Lies Trilogy Book 1)

by Coralee June

  "No wonder she keeps you around," I said, hoping to regain the upper hand. It worked, because he froze in place. "You're good at acting, Young."

  Within a moment, he lifted up. Grabbing my hips, he flipped me over and started kissing my back. I was confused at first, that is until he spoke. Then I realized that he just didn't want me to see his expression. "Of course it's not like this with her. ’Cause I don't have to pretend to enjoy it with you, Tav. I could hold you down and fuck you dry and hard. You don't matter. Right now, I want to fuck you; tomorrow, I might want to strangle you. You'll never be William. You're a means to an end."

  So this was what it felt like to be used?

  It felt good.

  I flipped back over, daring him to look me in the eye. Grabbing a condom from his nightstand, he slipped it on before sliding into me. "Fuck. So tight," he growled before pulling out then slamming back into me.

  I pulled him as close to me as possible, the muscles in his torso rubbing against my smooth skin as he pumped. I whined and squirmed, feeling how wet I was as the liquid heat pooled between my thighs. "Don't stop," I pleaded, the needy tone foreign to my ears. It felt too wrong to stop now.

  Young ignored my whimpers and stopped to nibble my neck. My eyes screwed shut, ignoring the sensual way his lips moved against me. After a moment, he started again. Punishing me with his thrusts like it was my fault we were attracted to one another. Like it was my fault I reminded him of all he'd lost. Like it was my fault we were connected by anything in the first place.

  He slid. In and out. In and out. Grabbing my waist with one hand while holding himself up with the other, he braced us against the mattress. I looked him in the eye, something I knew I'd regret but did anyways. It was quick, nothing more than a lapse in judgment. There was love in his gaze. There was hope. And I knew he was thinking of him, the faint tears welling up in the corner of his eyes said as much. He wasn't expecting me to follow through with this. I called his bluff, and I was breaking him.

  I was no better than her.

  And then, I don't know what came over me. I could have continued, could have let him fuck me to completion and hate himself in the morning. "Stop," I choked out. Though I didn't want him to.

  "What?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and staring at me like I was crazy. I didn't miss the relief on his face, though. I didn't miss the way he was putting distance between us.

  "Can we watch Breakfast Club?" I asked while sitting up and sliding off the bed. I found one of his discarded shirts on the ground and used it to wipe the wetness from between my legs before throwing it on the floor and leaving his bedroom. I couldn't tell you the color of his walls. What his comforter felt like. I was in and out of it too quickly to care.

  Finding my dress, I squeezed it on and settled on the couch. Young came out of his room fully dressed, still hard as a rock, an incredulous expression on his face. But thankfully, he didn't mention what had just happened. Instead, he sat down and pulled up the movie on his DVR. "William's favorite," he mumbled under his breath.

  Yeah. I couldn't let him off that easily.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning when I woke up on the couch, I didn't tell Young goodbye. I didn't see the point. It's not like we were cuddling in his bed, dreaming about a future where whatever attraction was bubbling between us made sense. The bottom line was, he loved my brother and always would. And I'd always resent him for his part in William's death.

  So I got up, gathered my belongings, and ignored the curious stares from a flustered Samuel as he sat at his kitchen table eating breakfast. I exited through the front door without so much as saying goodbye. Instead of calling a cab, I walked back to the hotel. It was a good distance, granting me time to think about the shit storm that had become my life. I thought about William most. There was no use in feeling guilty. Death had no bro code. There was no protocol for fucking your dead brother's ex-boyfriend. Maybe it was my way of paying him back for not telling me everything that was going on in his life.

  Young and I were bonded by nothing more than attraction and sadness. William was our only connecting piece. So why did it feel like my soul was ripping in half every step I took away from his apartment?

  At the hotel, Noah was sitting on the perfectly made bed, cradling his head in his hands. He perked up when I walked through the door. "I didn't think you'd stay the night there," he rushed out before standing and greeting me with a kiss. “I was worried, I’ve never once questioned whether or not to call you, but I was worried I was overstepping…” His words brought on a strange emotion that was clawing at my stomach. I hadn't felt guilt over breaking my brother’s dead heart. And I didn't feel guilt for stirring up memories within Young. But I did, however, feel something similar to the emotion as a result of the sadness in Noah's eyes. I felt uncertain about the way he was looking at me. I didn’t fear much, but I feared that Noah might actually finally give up on me.

  "Sorry," I said, my voice sounding uncharacteristically shy. I kind of hated myself for a little bit. And then I hated Noah for making me feel shit that didn’t matter. Wasn't that the point of this entire journey, to combat all these stupid emotions that did nothing but make me hate myself?

  I made my way to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, knowing that the entire time, Noah was probably overanalyzing the situation and practicing what he wanted to say to me. I stood there washing and rewashing my skin of Young until I was so desensitized to the hot water that it felt dizzyingly cool. After drying off, I wrapped myself in a towel and went back in the main room.

  "I ended up spending the night with Young," I explained, not waiting for Noah’s practiced explanation. I shook out my wet hair before sauntering towards the bed and lying down. I didn’t bother explaining to Noah that I stopped mid-sex because I miraculously grew a conscious. I’d always prioritized myself and William. It had always been us against the world, but now that he was gone, was there room in my heart for someone—or someones—else? Bracing my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling, I tried to compartmentalize my emotions. Noah stood there in silence for a good five minutes before joining me. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, willing him to lash out. It was so much easier when he was disappointed or too busy battling his own issues to deal with mine. We had a damn good system, and he had to go and ruin it by coming here.

  "When do you think you fell for me, Noah?" I asked. Noah settled on the bed, turning his body to fully stare at me. But I didn't look up at him. My skin felt hot. I kept my gaze firmly fixed upon the tiles of the hotel ceiling, counting each one until they were all accounted for.

  "You know I'm a psychologist, right? I spent a ridiculous amount of money studying the brain. I could tell you about all the chemicals your body releases whenever you’re infatuated with someone sexually compatible." Noah still stared at me, I could feel his hot eyes running along my skin, practically scraping up my soul as he spoke. "There's instant lust, and of course I felt that with you, even though you looked tired as hell when I woke up that morning after my bender. You were wearing a little black dress that had me gasping for air." Was I? I couldn’t remember. I just remembered crying that night as I spilled my guts about William to a sleeping man.

  Closing my eyes, I imagined that morning. I felt foolish for staying the night but didn't want to feel alone. Even though William lived across the country, the moment I learned of his death, loneliness slammed into me like a truck. I could’ve been surrounded by all my friends, my peers, my professors, or even my enemies, but still felt like I was standing in a void and screaming at the top of my lungs for people who couldn't hear me.

  Noah was hung over as all hell. A nicer woman would've made sure he had water and ibuprofen when he woke up. But no, not me. I turned the radio up so he could really feel the consequences of his actions. I was the only one allowed to be reckless.

  "There have been scientists that tried to explain the moment a human falls in love,” he continued. “They have
diagrams and steps. They label each stage like they know what the fuck they're talking about. But the truth is I don’t know when I first started to love you. I guess it was about the time I decided to start loving myself."

  Biting my lip, I finally turned to face him. Blue eyes, deep as pools of ice, stared back at me. I had plans for the evening that would completely ruin his faith in us. In order to do what I must, Noah couldn’t be a part of it. He was already fucked up over what happened to his daughter, and his chronic need to save me would inevitably kill us both. Tonight, Youngblood’s dirty little secret would be attending the scholarship event. And tonight, I was going to kill her, then possibly kill myself. A better person would feel tentative about those plans. But I intended to make it as public and gruesome as possible.

  But first, I had to ruin the one good thing in my life. "Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?" I asked. My plan was to take him somewhere where the temptation of alcohol was too much, get him drunk, then get him the hell away from me. He’d hate himself in the morning, and he’d definitely hate me. But hate was just another one of those pesky things meant for the living.

  "When do you think you fell for me?" he asked. I could've told him that it was the time he told me about his daughter. When he drunkenly cried on the floor of his apartment, grasping my legs and wiping his snot on the denim of my jeans. I could've told him it was that time we ran into his ex-wife at one of his favorite restaurants. And he looked at her like she was the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

  I could've told him it was the night I told him I was leaving. I could've told him it was when he called me the first night I arrived in New York, I was sleeping in a shady motel with what I'm sure were cum stains on the ceiling. But I didn't say any of those things. Because admitting that I loved Noah wasn't going to help either of us. He needed to let go. "I'm still waiting for that moment, Noah," I whispered.

  Noah’s laugh didn't surprise me. He could always sniff out a lie. "You're a shitty liar, Octavia Wilson," he joked.

  "You're a shitty martyr, Noah Scott."

  I picked a subtle bar to eat down the street. The music played softly, and old men sat at the bar, drinking whiskey on the rocks as we settled into a booth. I picked a quieter place because I knew that the silence made Noah's thoughts scream at him. Whenever he was struggling to cope with his daughter's death, he would go to loud dance clubs to drink. Not particularly because he liked the venue, but because he liked getting so overstimulated that there was no room in his brain for the pain he felt.

  He grabbed my hand from across the table, brushing his thumb over my skin with a tentative smile. I knew he was wondering why I brought him here, but he didn't want to bring up his problem. Mentioning his addiction would require him to admit that he was tempted by alcohol. And Noah was so wrapped up in my issues that admitting his own would've been too much.

  The waitress that took our order was wearing a crop top and had braces on her teeth. The deep set wrinkles in her face caused by many years in the sun made her look beautiful but durable. I didn't want to age gracefully. Hell, I didn't want to age at all. I wanted to wear the evidence of my life on my face, like her. "Two whiskey and Cokes please?" I asked. I was daring Noah to contradict me and order water. Instead, he just looked down at the table.

  "What are you doing, Octavia?" Noah asked in a whisper as she walked away.

  I gave him my best smile before answering, "Oh come on, I was just ordering your favorite drink." I'm sure he was cataloging my face, trying to look for signs of lying. With any luck, he would think that I was testing him, and I guess in some ways I was. But like my mother, and like everyone else I knew, Noah would fail. Temptation was always just a little too much. Or was it? Was telling myself that Noah couldn’t handle it just another form of sabotaging myself? I was starting to lose count of the ways my brain was ruining me and my relationships.

  When the drinks arrived, I took a gulp, shocking us both. It burned going down, igniting a fire in my stomach. I licked my lips before looking at Noah over the rim of my glass, quirking up a brow as he stared back at me. “I’m not going to be like your mother, Octavia,” he said in a low voice before taking the glass in my hand and pushing it over. “I’m not going to fail you. If I say I’m done, I’m done.” Damn Noah, knowing what I needed to hear.

  “When it’s just us, I don’t think you’re like her,” I whispered. I knew that he loved me enough to quit. But there were stipulations involved. It was easy to look at me from across the table and say he was a new man. It was when Noah was alone that he destroyed himself. And that’s why the temptation would eventually consume him, because he’d be alone here very soon.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I said before picking up my purse. Mrs. Mulberry’s gun sat heavy in it. Standing, I adjusted my short, black dress before walking towards the back of the bar where the restrooms were located. I took a moment to look over my shoulder and stare at Noah. He looked so beautiful there, oblivious to my plans. It was crazy to think that the last time he’d ever see me was in a bar. Maybe he wouldn’t regress. Maybe he’d start to associate alcohol with losing me. He traced his finger along the condensation on the glass. It was only a matter of time.

  I then slipped out the back door and walked down the street, my heels on the dirty concrete and my beating heart were the only sounds I could hear.

  Chapter 18

  I was underdressed. The scholarship event was being held at a networking event space in the School of Business building. It was wildly inconvenient. The slinky black dress I was wearing was too dressy for me to sneak in through the service entrance, but not dressy enough to go through the front door. Since being banned from campus, I wouldn’t put it past President Robinson to hand my photo to the security guards stationed at the entrance. Probably a bad photo, too. So instead, I texted Samuel.

  “Come get me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Outside.” I could practically feel his sigh of discontent via his text.

  Within minutes, he was walking outside, wearing a surprised and forced smile. After crossing the street and ignoring the curious stares of others passing by, he stopped in front of me and whistled. “Ms. Wilson, you look underdressed in the best of ways,” he joked. I looked up at him in amusement. He was wearing a navy suit that highlighted the cool tones in his green eyes. His golden hair reflected in the setting sunlight. “Listen, about last night…” he scratched the back of his neck while looking around.

  “Oh, I know you were trying to help. That was the drug dealer, right? The one supposedly supplying William. I won’t lie, I’m surprised that you know him.” Secrets, secrets, were no fun. Not unless you tell everyone.

  Samuel scratched the back of his neck before looking behind him at the banquet hall. He then grabbed my elbow and guided me to the shadows of a nearby brick building that smelled like cheeseburgers. “I’m not proud of it, but there’s a reason I was failing my first semester here, Octavia.” Everyone had their vices, I supposed.

  “Such a shame. I find you considerably less attractive now,” I pouted, keeping a teasing edge to my voice.

  “That was the old me,” Samuel assured while squeezing me tighter.

  I leaned forward, smelling the wine on his breath and checking his pupils. “If that was the old you, then why is Renon chasing you down now?”

  Samuel went pale then quickly recovered. “Did you need something?”

  I decided to ignore how he changed the subject. “Get me inside this swanky event?” I asked.

  “She’s not here,” Samuel rushed out. Something was...off about his behavior again. It reminded me of all the times my mother tried to hide her stash.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Nathaniel just told me she couldn’t make it. Guess he’s off the hook for tonight,” he said with a shrug. Samuel had no idea how truthful that statement was.

  “I wouldn't be so sure about that. Escort me past the security guards inside?” I asked.

>   Samuel’s eyes darkened as he pressed me against the brick wall.

  “Why? I can think of something much more fun to do,” he offered before bracing his hand against the brick beside my head and kissing my lips. It was a forced gesture I didn’t quite understand.

  Twisting away, I spoke. “No, I’d really like to go inside.”

  Samuel let out a sigh. “Okay. How about we go in for thirty minutes so you can get off on whatever fucked up hatred you have for Youngblood, then we can go back to my place and work out your frustrations doing something more fun?”

  I looked at Samuel, I mean really looked at him, trying to come up with what felt off. Maybe he was embarrassed about last night? Maybe he was jealous? Maybe he just was a flustered cluster-fuck, always looking for the next fun thing to do. I was okay with being used up. I was okay with meaningless sex. I could dish it out as much as they could. But I didn’t like people that weren’t upfront with their intentions. “Okay,” I finally said, but only because it was easier than vocalizing my reservations. I wasn’t quite ready to reveal that I didn’t trust him yet. I wanted to see where this led.

  Samuel did his usual—charming the pants off the guards and distracting the entire damn world with his blinding, buoyant personality so that I could slip by in the shadows. As if on instinct, my eyes immediately searched for Young, and I felt Samuel stiffen beside me, as if he knew who had my attention and he didn’t like it. I ignored his quickly souring mood and found Young in the corner talking to an older, formally dressed gentleman and looking like he might actually be enjoying himself. He was joking with him, a bright smile barely hitting his eyes as he patted the man on the shoulder and turned to look at me.