Believing Lies Page 11

  “Ah.”

  We walked down the sidewalk and passed multiple parked vehicles until we came up to a black Volkswagen Jetta. If I had to guess, it was probably about five to ten years old. Adam pulled out a mesh bag with four discs from the trunk.

  “Do you just want to take my car, or should we go back for yours?”

  “Let’s just take yours.”

  He opened the passenger side door and gestured for me to get in. I was sure he didn’t mean anything by it, but I found it sweet. He got in and started the engine. The music that shot from the speakers was deafening. He immediately turned it down, but not before I recognized the song. As he cranked on the air-conditioning, I started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Lots of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “This car doesn’t seem like you. It’s a nice car and everything, but I didn’t really see you as a Jetta kind of guy.

  “What kind of car do you see me in, Princess?”

  “Stop putting me on the spot and just drive.”

  “I’m not in a hurry. Answer the question.”

  “Fine.” I thought about it for a moment before replying, “The color suits you. Definitely black. Maybe a Dodge Charger? Nah, a motorcycle.”

  His mouth curved up slightly. “If I had a motorcycle, would you take a ride with me?” I imagined him on a motorcycle, me sitting behind him. Being with him on the Jet Ski was very hot, but being on a motorcycle with him would be scorching.

  “Maybe.” I winked at him. I felt sexy when I did it. No wonder he winks all the time.

  He laughed. Of course! I try to act sexy, and it makes him laugh.

  He put the car in drive and pulled out onto the road. “The car was my mom’s.”

  “I see. What would you buy if you could pick out any car you wanted?”

  “Any car?” He pretended to be in deep thought, even going as far as to tap his chin. “I’d get a Ford Mustang.”

  “Copycat.”

  “Not quite; mine would be black.” He paused. “And I’d buy a Harley too, and I wouldn’t give you a choice about taking a ride with me—I’d make you,” he said, confidence lacing his last words.

  I laughed. “You’re very presumptuous if you think you can make me do anything. Not to mention, a Mustang and a Harley. You better keep buying those scratch off lotto tickets.”

  He smiled at my pathetic, little joke. “So, Princess, you said you were laughing at lots of things,” he prompted.

  “I was also laughing because I’m surprised you aren’t deaf with your music so loud.”

  “Maybe I’ll need a hearing aid in the future, but for now I’ll chance it. Any other reasons?”

  I blushed. “The song.”

  His eyes widened. “You recognized it, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” I could feel the heat under my cheeks. I actually knew the song very well. Courtney was a huge Nine Inch Nails fan, so I’d heard this song played in our dorm room many times.

  “What was the song? I know you know.”

  I huffed. “Fine. ‘Closer.’”

  He chuckled to himself. “Only a naughty girl would know that song from just a few seconds.” He glanced at me sideways. “Are you a naughty girl?” His tone was low and challenging.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said silkily.

  He kept his eyes on the road, but his lips turned up in a lopsided smirk. “Yes, I would.”

  I noticed he hadn’t turned back on any music. Daringly, I picked up his iPod. “Mind if I pick something?”

  “Go ahead. There’s a lot of girly music in Allie’s playlist that you might like.”

  “Allie?” Don’t be jealous. Don’t be jealous.

  “Conner’s sister,” he said, then added, “She’s kind of like my sister too.” He switched lanes. “I’m sure you can find something.”

  I wasn’t interested in Allie’s playlist. I wanted to see what Adam had. You could learn a lot about someone by what they listened to. As I scanned the songs, I noticed our taste in music was somewhat similar.

  “Any day now. I’m not getting any younger over here,” he taunted.

  “Smartass,” I retorted. I turned back on “Closer.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I knew you were a naughty girl.”

  I put my feet up on his dashboard and began to very quietly sing along to the very explicit lyrics. He was biting his lip to contain his laughter.

  When the song ended, Adam said, “Pick another song.”

  I searched for the next song to play. My stomach flipped, in a good way, when I came across “Everlong” by Foo Fighters. Once the song got going, I was tapping my feet on his dashboard, playing pretend drums on my legs, and loudly singing along. His eyes kept flicking over to me, but I surprisingly didn’t feel self-conscious or embarrassed.

  The moment the song ended, Adam turned off the radio completely. “Why did you pick that song?” It was a straight forward question.

  I tilted my head and gave him a straight forward answer. “Because it’s my favorite song.”

  “You never cease to surprise me.”

  “Maybe I like that I surprise you.”

  “Oh, I know you do,” he jibed. “It’s an amazing song, but why is it your favorite song? Favorite song is a huge honor.”

  “The original version isn’t technically my favorite. The acoustic version is,” I clarified.

  “I didn’t know there was an acoustic version.”

  “Heck yeah,” I said a little too excitedly. “I understand that essentially it’s the same as the original, but I feel that acoustically the overall feeling of the song comes across completely different—beautiful in a way that I can’t fully describe. I knew the first time I heard it that this would forever be my favorite song.”

  “Interesting girl,” he said under his breath.

  “You keep saying that. You’re really starting to sound like a broken record. Is being an interesting girl a good or bad thing?” I asked, leery of how he would respond.

  He looked conflicted. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “Well, let me know when you do.”

  “Trust me. You’ll be the first to know.”

  “Good. Anyway, you should listen to the acoustic version. I bet you’d love it.”

  He kept his eyes on the road. “I don’t doubt that.”

  “So you’ll find it and listen to it?” I hoped he’d say yes.

  He glanced at me. “I promise.” The way he said it, I believed him.

  ***

  Frisbee Golf was NOT my sort of game. If the object of the game was to throw your disc into the woods, instead of the basket, then I would have been great. Adam was very patient with me and retrieved my wayward disc most of the time. He was really good at this game, so I could see why he liked to play.

  “You absolutely sucked,” Adam said as we walked up the path back to his car. He said it jokingly, even though the statement was one hundred percent true.

  “I told you I’d never played before.”

  “But you said you knew how to toss a Frisbee. A two-year-old could toss a Frisbee better than you.” I knew he was baiting me, as he always did. Where I used to find it frustrating, now I was beginning to enjoy our back-and-forth.

  I playfully smacked him on his chest. “I said I knew how to, but I never said that I was good at it.”

  “Getting a little feisty.” He rubbed his chest. “That actually stung a little.”

  I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Big baby.”

  “Keep it up, Princess. Keep. It. Up.”

  I smacked his chest again. Before I knew what was happening, his arms were scooping me up, and I was thrown over his shoulder. We were both laughing, and I was using my fists to pound his back. I kicked my legs and tried to squirm out of his grasp.

  “Let me down!” I screamed through my laughs. The result of my efforts was a slap on my ass. I froze. “Did you just spank me?” I asked
incredulously.

  “Yep.” He slapped my ass again.

  I started to laugh so hard I almost wet myself. Thank God I didn’t. I would never be able to face him again if that happened. He was laughing almost as hard as I was as he continued down the path. I gave up resisting, instead enjoying the view of his delicious backside.

  “Korbell!” I heard a male voice call out.

  I looked to the right and saw a guy jogging toward us. He had no shirt on and was fairly built. He was shorter than Adam and had blond hair. All-in-all he was fairly attractive. Had I not been comparing him to the Adonis holding me, I would’ve probably found him more attractive. Adam looked at the guy, stopped walking, and set me down. The guy caught up to us. He gave me a once over before looking at Adam.

  “Didn’t know you were coming down here,” the new guy said to him. “You should have called me. A few of us just got here.”

  “I thought you had to work today,” Adam said.

  “Called in sick. Too nice of a day to be stuck inside.” He smiled at me. “Who’s this?” He was looking at me but asking Adam.

  “Zach Winters, meet Sienna Trudeau.”

  “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.

  “You too,” he said, shaking it once. “I didn’t know Adam was seeing someone.”

  Before I could reply, Adam answered, “I’m not. She’s just a friend.” I wasn’t sure why that hurt my feelings, but it did.

  Zach chuckled. “Yeah man, sure. It didn’t look that way. Are you two up for a game?”

  “No, we were just leaving,” Adam told him with a tone of finality. “Thanks anyway. I’ll see you at your house tonight, okay?”

  “Sounds good. Later then.” He looked at me and smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Sienna?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I answered.

  “Why don’t you come to my party tonight?” The way he asked it seemed as if he honestly wanted me to come, not as if he was just being polite.

  “Thanks for the invite, but I’m going to a late movie with my cousin tonight.”

  “Next time?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Goodbye, Zach,” Adam gritted out through clenched teeth.

  Zach chuckled. “Loud and clear, Korbell. Loud and clear.”

  Zach rejoined his friends, and Adam and I walked the rest of the way to the car without a word exchanged. This time, he didn’t open the door for me. He turned on the engine and the air-conditioning, but not the radio, and put the car in reverse.

  As soon as we got on the road, he asked in a clipped tone, “Do you really have plans to go to a movie with Sophie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you have gone to his party if you didn’t have plans?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Why? Isn’t that where you’re going tonight? Are you ashamed of having me around your friends?” I was only half serious.

  “No,” he replied defensively but didn’t elaborate further.

  He turned on the radio to a random station and focused on driving, not glancing my way once. There was a major change in him, and I didn’t like it. He had totally shut me out. By the time we were halfway back to my apartment, I’d had enough of the silent treatment.

  I turned off the radio. “Zach seemed like a nice person,” I probed, testing the water.

  “He’s fine,” Adam said blandly.

  Strike one. “Thanks for taking me Frisbee golfing. I had a good time, even though I did suck.” I gave him a small smile, which he didn’t see because his eyes never left the road.

  “Yeah, it was fun.” His tone said otherwise.

  Strike two. “Are you getting hungry? I’m getting a bit hungry. We haven’t eaten since breakfast. Do you want to stop and get something to eat with me?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Strike three! “What’s your fucking problem!?”

  His head snapped toward me before looking back out the windshield. “I don’t have one. Let it go.” Let it go? He obviously didn’t know me very well if he thought I would just let it go. I didn’t let stuff go easily. It wasn’t one of my strong points.

  “Screw you, Adam. One minute we’re having a great time, and the next minute you’re a huge sour puss!”

  Adam started to shake with silent laughter. “Sour puss? Who talks like that?”

  “Oh sure, now you’re laughing. My mother says it, okay? Damn it. You’re so frustrating that you’re causing me to talk like my mother!”

  “There could be worse things,” he said as his laughter subsided.

  My face was deadly serious. “You’ve never met my mother.”

  “Why do you keep calling her Mother? Most people just say Mom.”

  “She prefers to be called Mother, so that’s what I call her,” I replied sharply.

  “Okay. Okay. Now who’s being the sour puss?” He burst out laughing.

  “It’s not that funny.” I slid off my flip flops, brought my feet onto the seat, and wrapped my arms around my legs.

  I couldn’t see his eyes behind his aviators, but he was grinning, and I could tell he was out of whatever funk he’d been in.

  “Call Sophie and Conner and see if they’re hungry.”

  “You could phrase it as a question or at least say please,” I complained as I dug my cell out of my purse.

  “Please.”

  I gave him a smug look, satisfied with my tiny triumph. “Was that so hard?”

  “Yes.”

  I dialed Sophie. Right when I was sure I was going to be sent to voicemail, she picked up. “Hey, crotch-bottle.”

  I laughed. “That’s a new one. I don’t really get it, but I like it.”

  “I’m nothing if not original. What’s up?”

  “Did you and Conner eat yet?”

  “We had a pretty early lunch with Dad, so we could be up for eating. What did you have in mind?”

  I turned to Adam. “She wants to know what we want to eat.”

  “Who the hell are you talking to?” Sophie screeched in my ear.

  “Adam. Geez.”

  “Why are you with Adam?”

  Adam put his hand out, and I put my phone in it.

  “Sophie, it’s Adam . . . Yes . . . No . . . Pizza. See you at your place after we pick it up . . . Bye.” He handed back my phone. “Will you please call and order us some pizza, Princess?”

  I tried to hide my grin. “Since you asked so nicely, I’d love to.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Over the next two weeks, Sophie and I spent a lot of time with Adam and Conner—both at our place and at theirs. They rented the lower half of a typical college house, and although it was surprisingly tidy, the inside screamed “Boy.” Their living room contained a large, brown couch against one wall, a futon along the other, and a coffee table in the middle. Of course, a super-huge flat screen was on the wall because what guy can live without the largest TV possible?

  Conner’s bedroom was larger than Adam’s. Conner had a king sized bed with an army green bedspread. He had a couple of posters of half-naked models on his walls, which Sophie didn’t seem to mind. Family pictures covered his dresser. Conner’s teenage sister, Allie, was very pretty, as was his mom. His dad was an older version of Conner. His dresser also held a picture of him and Adam at their high school graduation. Adam was giving the rock out hand gesture, and they were both sticking out their tongues. It made me laugh.

  Adam’s bedroom was almost bare. His walls didn’t have anything on them, nor were there any photos to be found. There was a tall dresser, which was painted black. On top of it were a few of his leather wrist cuffs and two belts; nothing else. His queen sized bed had a dark gray feather blanket. I noticed neither of the boys ever kept his bed made. There was a bedside table with a single lamp on it. Adam’s room made me feel sad and lonely. I wondered if it made him feel that way too.

  Their house had a large eat-in kitchen, which had worn cupboards and countertops that looked as if they were from the seventi
es. The main attraction of the kitchen was their table, which was actually a ping pong table with four folding chairs placed around it. Adam said it made it convenient for playing beer pong. Sophie and I were the queens of beer pong and had instantly challenged them to a game. There had been several games since—each time boys against girls. Adam and Conner had yet to win a single game against us. Sophie loved to use her boobs as a way to distract Conner and make him miss the cup. It was an unfair advantage, but we would have won each time regardless. I might not be able to toss a Frisbee well, but I was damn good at tossing a tiny ball into a plastic cup.

  During this time together, Adam and I had moved beyond the initial sexual attraction and had fallen into an effortless friendship. Although we were no longer looking at each other as if we wanted to devour the other person, the lines of a traditional just friends relationship had blurred. One night, I had fallen asleep while watching a movie with him and woke up lying on his lap. I’d been embarrassed, but he’d said that he didn’t mind. After that, I found myself cuddling up to him on the couch whenever we watched a movie. Another day, when we’d been walking around town, I’d grabbed his hand to pull him into a shop with me. But I hadn’t let go once we entered and neither had he.

  It hadn’t taken long before I started to look forward to seeing him and spending time with him much more than I should have. Even an incoming text from him brought a smile to my face. At first, it had been only a text here or there. But it had quickly escalated until we both were texting each other several times a day. The texts ranged from stuff like “How was your day?” to “What color bra are you wearing?” (Obviously, he’d sent the bra one).

  Now I understood what he had meant the day we went to breakfast. I needed to be around him the same way he needed to be around me. He made me happy, made me laugh, and made me feel special.

  For those same reasons, I didn’t go with them to the bars. They’d tried to get me to go on multiple occasions, but I declined each time. If I was being completely honest, I was scared of how I’d feel if I saw him flirting with some girl, or worse, kissing someone. I especially didn’t want to see him leave with someone. Sophie and I were the only girls who entered his life during the daytime hours. Since Sophie was his best friend’s girlfriend, it was only natural she would be around him. I, however, was the anomaly, being the only single girl he spent time with outside of a bed . . . or against a wall . . . or in the backseat of a car . . . You get the drift.