Текст книги "Things Liars Say "
Автор книги: Sara Ney
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
Greyson
“I don’t understand. You tweeted that he was a sexy beast, and then he goes radio silence on you? That’s so messed up.”
I drum a number 2 pencil on the wooden table, and blow a puff of air at my bangs to move them out of my eyes. “I guess I don’t get it. I thought that maybe, when he kissed me, we were… I don’t know.”
“Becoming more than pen pals?”
“Yes. Because I felt that kiss everywhere, Mel. Everywhere. That wasn’t a kiss between two friends.”
Melody speaks slowly then, choosing her words carefully. “I mean, I know it’s a weird thing to ask, but do you think you scared him away?”
I give her a hard look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing! I just wonder if he thought maybe you were… making fun of him? Lying?”
I ignore that she just called me a liar, but my mouth still gapes in indignation. “Making fun of him? Why would you even say that?”
“Well, jeez, Grey. Look at him. He isn’t winning any beauty contests.”
My mouth falls open even wider, and the rash on my chest shoots up my neck at a breakneck pace, coloring my cheeks, nose, and forehead. My face is flaming hot, which I bet it looks spectacular against my light blonde hair. “Melody! What the hell. I think he’s gorgeous!”
“Well, yeah—you do. But you didn’t think he was so hot when he showed up at the house. You think he’s hot because you’re finally getting to know him. That’s why you think he’s attractive; he’s grown on you. Everyone else, erm, not so much.”
“You—that’s so mean.” I stand abruptly, knocking a cup of pens over with a curse. Tears threaten to spill out of the corners of my eyes. I wipe them away angrily. “Not all of us want just want to date pretty frat boys.”
Melody sighs, her eyes pleading with me. “I’m sorry. That’s not… this is coming out all wrong.”
My bottom lip trembles.
“Grey.” Melody stands. “You’re beautiful. And sweet. And funny. Of course everyone expects you to hook up with some GQ model. Not some… Not a busted-up rugby player from SMU. I’m just trying to be honest.”
“I do not like you right now.”
“Grey, you don’t even know this guy.”
“Yes I do.” I cross my arms and stare out the window into the yard, tuning her out. Softly, I whisper, “I know enough.”
From: [email protected]
Subject: Please talk to me.
Calvin,
It’s been two days. Why are you shutting me out? I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you over reacted to the tweet, but I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends. I called you sexy and I meant it. I wasn’t making fun of you—how could you THINK that??? I thought we were becoming friends. I miss you. I miss my friend. Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: I’m an ass.
You’re right. I overreacted. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a complete douchenozzle, so can we just forget about it? I feel like a tool. And since we’re friends and I’m being honest, this is exactly how I would treat you if you were a dude. I’d give you the silent treatment until I got over myself. So you should feel pretty good about that. – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: Best Friends 4Eva
Cal,
Yes, I’ll forget about it, but… You know what, never mind—I’m just so relieved you emailed me back. I’ll keep this light hearted. After all, we hardly know each other. As for you treating me like one of your guy friends, well—I’m flattered. Kind of? Have you ever had a girl that’s a friend before? The distance between us certainly makes it easier to have that kind of relationship, yeah? I doubt I could manage to be friends friends if we were at the same school—if we were in the same town. Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: Huh?
Greyson, I’m not even sure what that’s supposed to mean.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Seriously?
Read between the lines, Calvin. And why are you emailing me this? Wouldn’t it be easier to text? Grey.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Still don’t have a clue. Sorry.
Grey. I’m not texting because I had already composed the email. And last time I checked, I was a guy—and one that gets concussions on a regular basis. You need to spell it out for me. – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: Forget I said anything.
Cal,
I’m not in the mood to explain myself. Maybe some other time.
Cal: This is going to get ridiculous if we don’t talk.
Grey: What’s going to get ridiculous?
Cal: You know what? Never mind. I’m not playing games with you.
Grey: Time. Out. Why are you being so stubborn about this? I don’t know what flipped your switch, but you need to explain it. Answer me, Calvin.
Cal: You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re my friend, and it was an asshole thing to do, and I’m sorry.
Grey: I like you, Calvin. I think you’re sexy and handsome and funny. Accept it and move on. And stop being an ass.
Cal: Have you always been this bossy?
Grey: Yes.
Cal: I like it.
Grey: I know you do. Why do you think I’m acting so bossy?
From: [email protected]
Subject: Not that kind of trim work
Greyson. Going home this weekend to help my dad do some landscaping. My mom gets all weird about having all the shrubs and flower beds weeded and cut down before it gets cold out, so… just wanted to let you know. My folks get pissed when I’m constantly checking my phone. Disrespectful and all that shit. – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: TWO WHOLE DAYS?
Calvin,
So what you’re saying is, you don’t want me to feel bad when you’re MIA for a few days? Aww, that’s sweet. Very considerate to let me know. I will admit that I have gotten used to talking with you during the day. Well, not “talking,” but you get my point. Does your sister have to partake in this landscaping torture, too?
Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: Evil Mastermind
Grey. Yes, everyone will be there. My parents are Equal Opportunity Sadists. But Tabby (aka: the smart one in this case) will throw a fit at some point and pick a fight so my mom yells and kicks her out of the yard. IT’S SO UNFAIR. She’s a genius. – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: Why should Tabitha have all the fun?
Calvin,
Maybe you should beat her to it. Where are you from originally, anyway? I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it. My parents moved this summer from Lake Walton to another little lake community just south called Six Rivers. It’s also a resort town, but there’s tons to do there, which is a nice change. Lake Walton was pretty small—the closest Target was a day trip. Grey
Cal: You did NOT say Six Rivers.
Grey: Yes, why?
Cal: Take a wild guess.
Grey: SHUT UP. No way.
Cal: Yes way. Well, next town over. 20 minutes on a bad day.
Grey: There is NO WAY you live near where I live.
Grey: You know what this means, don’t you?!
Cal: That we can be best friends and do karate in the garage?
Grey: *crickets* That made absolutely no sense.
Cal: Never mind. It’s from a movie. LOL. Tell me what you were going to say before when you said, “You know what this means, don’t you?” and I so rudely made a movie reference.
Grey: Well, besides you being hopelessly clueless, this means we can be buddies during summer and the holidays and hang out! We can have drinks at that bar near the lake.
Cal: Sully’s on the Lake? It’s not near the lake, it’s ON the lake. LOL
Grey: See. This is why we need to hang out when we’re home.
Cal: What are the odds?
Grey: It’s fate.
Cal: Oh…. boy.
Grey: You can show me the sights. We can float on the lake.
Cal: Did you say FLOAT on the lake?
Grey: Yeah, you know, on rafts?
Cal: Ah, okay. So, literally floating. Will this floating require bathing suits?
Grey: Not necessarily.
Cal: Are you flirting with me?
Grey: I think it’s really sad you can’t tell when a girl is flirting with you. But since you asked, I wouldn’t dare. Remember the last time I tried that? #epicfail #sexybeast #angrycalvin
Cal: Fine. But in my defense, no one has ever called me sexy. I thought you were being a bitch.
Grey: You are LYING. How is that possible?
Cal: Which part? The sexy part or the bitch part?
Grey: You are getting sexier and sexier by the day. Sorry, but it’s true. Time to accept the facts.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Warning! Warning!
Grey. As I suspected, my mom drove us nuts over the weekend with her demands. The woman is obsessed with mulching. And, as I predicted, Tabby picked a fight and Mom kicked her out of the yard. The brat winked at me as she fake stormed off. I can’t freaking believe my mom still falls for that bullshit. The good news is, all I had to do was drive the bobcat while my dad raked leaves into the shovel. What can I say about Sunday? For starters, my damn sister tricked me into telling her about you. I don’t know how she figured it out, but I must have been checking my phone about a hundred times—just in case you decided to send a message—and she caught me. When she tried stealing my phone and I pitched a bitch fit instead of letting her take it, she knew there was shit on here I didn’t want her to see. Boy, was she a pain in my ass. The entire day she tried to steal my phone. Wanting to see pictures of you. Asking a shit ton of annoying questions. If you get a friend request from Tabitha Thompson, would you do me a huge favor and DELETE IT?
What did you do this weekend? – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: I consider creeping research.
Calvin,
In fact, I DID get a friend request from a Tabitha Thompson! LOL. No worries, I haven’t decided what to do about it yet. I did sneak onto her page, though. She looks awesome. Very beautiful. My objective, of course, was to find pictures of you. Très stalkerish of me, wouldn’t you say? Whatever. I got all giddy and girly over a few—the one of you in a tux for your senior prom? OMG. So handsome. And the one of you with your childhood dog? Must say, Calvin, I have something of a crush on you. I can admit that, right, now that we’re pen pals? Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: Creeping, lurking = Same thing
Grey. Not surprised that you were lurking on my sister’s pics. That picture of me with the dog? Brownie, his name was—he was the shit. Cried like a baby when my parents put him to sleep. I don’t even want to know if you saw the picture of me snuggling Sparkles, the kitty cat I had when I was 3. Tabby posted that one last year for my birthday, that rude bitch. Shit. That was a joke. I would never call her that to her face; she’d scratch my eyes out. My sister, not the cat. – Cal
Cal: By the way, I’ve decided I will allow you to have a crush on me.
Grey: How magnanimous of you.
Cal: You’re welcome.
Grey: You ass.
Cal: Speaking of asses, yours is incredible.
Grey: Well, aren’t you just full of compliments today! I’ve got one for you: I could stare at your firm, tight ass in those rugby spandex all day long.
Cal: Holy shit, that is NOT what I was expecting you to say.
Grey: Why?
Cal: Because you’re classy.
Grey: Maybe, but I also have eyes. And hormones. I can’t say you have a firm, tight ass? Okay, fine. Can we at least talk about your buff arms? DROOL.
Cal: NO! Maybe. Okay, fine.
Grey: *pouting* I want to talk about your tattoos.
Cal: Thank god you’re an hour away, because I can’t spend the whole night jerking off—
Cal: Shit, I did NOT mean to send that.
Cal: Ugh. It didn’t even make any sense.
Cal: Greyson, fucking say something!
Grey: Shush. Shhhh. Shhh. I’m not done visualizing you doing naughty, naughty things to yourself *closes eyes* Also, why did you TYPE it if you didn’t mean to send it? WHAT THE HELL?? LOLOLOL
Grey: The WHOLE night jerking off? Wow. That’s some stamina you must have…
Cal: Oh my god. This is my worst nightmare
Grey: ^^^ you sound like such a girl.
Cal: Wait. Did you just screenshot that shit????
Grey: No. Maybe. Okay, fine. Yes.
Cal: What are you up to right now?
Grey: I’m about to walk into work. But instead I’m sitting here in a chair by the door like a creeper, texting you.
Cal: Sorry.
Grey: Don’t APOLOGIZE. Sheesh, Calvin. How could you have known I was at work? Besides, it’s my choice. I’d rather sit and talk to you any day of the week. I work until 10 tonight, which—yuck.
Cal: That’s a long shift.
Grey: Yeah, but it’s the only day I work this week. I’m really grateful they’re so flexible. Confession? I think the manager has a crush on me or something. It’s kind of embarrassing, but it also works in my favor.
Cal: I don’t blame the guy. Wait. It is a GUY, right?
Grey: *rolling my eyes*giggle* Yeah, it’s a guy. Not nearly as sexy as you ;)
Cal: You did NOT just say that.
Grey: Oh boy, here we go again…
Greyson
The espresso machine hisses, and I pour cold, clear water into the top of the machine's water chamber, checking quickly to make sure the boiler cap is secured. My co-worker Rebecca tosses me the filter holder that I’d forgotten to grab when I started to fill the machine with grounds, and I call out a hasty “Thanks” as I lightly brush the coffee debris off the counter that escaped when I changed it earlier.
I remove the glass carafe under the spout and flip the switch on the machine, humming to myself as the steam heats the water to an extra hot temperature—like the customer ordered—and almost don’t notice when the coffee starts to overflow into the small carafe. Crap, how on earth did that happen?
“Shoot,” I murmur as the brown liquid skims the top of the glass container, the foam now becoming white. I push back the lever and remove the cup, careful not to spill any of the precious nectar.
Nectar? Oh, brother, listen to me.
I add a shot of sugar-free vanilla, pour the espresso into the tiny to-go cup, pop the plastic lid on, and slide the beverage across the counter at my waiting customer with a smile.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Nope!” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and a few pennies into the tip jar, giving me a backwards wave, and pushes her way out the front door.
I reach behind me and pull back on the ribbon securing my green apron, tighten it so it’s not quite so loose, and begin wiping down the hard granite counter where we keep the flavor syrups.
As I’m adjusting the nozzle on the sanitizer spray bottle so it comes out in a steady stream, Rebecca scoots by me, giving me a sharp shove in the hip.
“What the hell, Becca?”
“Meathead, twelve o’clock,” she mutters, rushing to the cash register. I hear her brightly call out, “Hi there! What can we make for you today!”
Wow, she sounds uncharacteristically cheerful.
Shaking my head with a chuckle, I begin spraying the sanitizer around the basin of the steel prep sink, but a deep baritone response from the other side of the cash counter has me stopping in my tracks.
“Grey working?”
I spin on my heel, tossing the rag in my hand to the backsplash. “Cal!” I take a few surprised steps forward. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been doing a shit ton of studying today and needed a break. Grab some caffeine,” he says, causally stuffing his hands in the pockets of low-slung sweat pants, then looking up at the menu board on the wall. “Anything good here?”
Delighted, I cannot contain my enthusiasm. “You’re an hour away! Are you crazy?”
I’m positively giddy.
Cal looks embarrassed, his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue.
“Didn’t we already establish we both have a touch of the crazy?”
A bubble of laughter escapes my lips. “Good point.”
Beside me, Rebecca clears her throat loudly. “Uh hem.”
“Oh! Sorry, Becca. Cal, this is my co-worker Rebecca. She is required to put up with my atrocious barista skills. Becca, this is Cal, my friend. He goes to SMU.”
“Cal? The Cal? Boyfriend Cal?”
Oh, crap, that’s right. I give Becca an amused look. “You follow me on Twitter?”
“Uh, everyone follows you on Twitter,” she snickers.
This is news to me. “Well, Becca, this is Cal.”
“In the flesh,” Cal adds gamely, giving her a cocky grin.
“Phew, is it hot in here?” Rebecca blushes down into her black collared shirt. “Okay, well. Since we have no other customers, why don’t you go take a break? If it gets swamped—” she rolls her eyes “—I’ll shout for you.”
Have I mentioned lately how much I freaking love, love, love Rebecca?
“Do you want to go sit for a bit?” I ask Cal. He gives a jerky nod. "Can I make something for you quick?"
“Um… how about a trenta green tea lemonade.”
“Coming right—”
“—Actually, Grey, I got it,” Becca says, cutting me off with a wink. “Go. Sit. The lull isn’t going to last forever.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
Calvin
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t either,” I deadpan. “I got in my truck to grab a coffee and kept driving until I ended up here.”
“Just like that, huh?” Greyson is beaming at me, a megawatt smile so blinding it’s like gazing at the sun, and I can hardly stand to look at her.
“Um, don’t read too much into it,” I force myself to say.
“Mmm hmm, okay.” She’s leaning back now in the stiff wooden chair, her shoe dangling from the foot crossed over her leg. She tilts her head to one side as she studies me, and her long, blonde ponytail—a stark contrast against her black shirt—cascades over her shoulder. “I won’t. You just got in your car and drove. For an hour.” Grey bats her eyelashes at me.
I blink then look away.
“Stop it,” I finally say as Becca walks over, setting a large green tea lemonade on the table in front of me. She doesn’t say anything, but I see her mouth Oh my God to Greyson before turning and hustling back to the counter.
“I must say, Calvin, if you’re trying to dispel the rumors that I have a boyfriend, you’re doing a terrible job by showing up here.”
“I think you fueled the rumors yourself after that match last week.”
“Alright, fair enough. But I wouldn’t do anything differently because that kiss was… phew!” She props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “My toes are still tingling.”
I ignore her blissful sigh and clear my throat.
“I told you, I came here for a coffee.”
Her hazel eyes zero in on my green tea lemonade, and she arches a perfect eyebrow.
“Fine, sexy barista, if you really must know, I don’t drink coffee.”
Greyson’s eyes soften around the edges as she watches me fiddle with my straw. “Your bruises are fading,” she remarks.
“Yeah, I know. It sucks, too. No one messes with me when I have double shiners.”
Grey sits up and reaches across the table, wiggling her fingers in my direction. “Let me have your arm.”
I lay a tan arm on the table. She rolls her eyes.
“Not that one. Your other arm.”
Biting back a grin, I rest my tatted arm on the tabletop and sit back, watching as she leans forward, intently studying the sleeve on my right arm.
A dozen intricate, bright designs are interwoven on my skin, and she memorizes every single one. I can see the interest in her eyes, the questions. But unlike other girls, she doesn’t ask. Her fingers curiously roam over the American eagle tattooed in honor of my grandfather’s many years of military service that eventually took his life, the lotus flower tattooed in honor of my mother’s winning battle with cancer, and the Celtic cross in honor of my Scottish heritage.
I sit, ramrod straight, learning every expression as it crosses her face.
She glances up at me then, her finger continuing to trail along the sensitive skin on my arm, and there’s a fire in her eyes that damn near takes my breath away.
No way is she looking at me like that.
Greyson
We sit for twenty minutes before Becca comes to get me, talking and teasing and flirting. Well, I flirted; he complained about it.
“Let me walk you out,” I say, stalling for more time with him.
I start untying the green apron strings around my waist, but Cal stops me.
“Leave the apron. It’s cute.”
I preen with pleasure as he pushes through the glass door of the coffee shop and holds it open for me, giving me an opportunity to train my eyes on that gloriously tattooed bicep beneath his shirtsleeve as I pass in front of him.
His red truck is parked out front, but instead of walking to it, I lead him to a partition under the overhang, conveniently located in the shadows of the strip mall.
I lean against the brick wall, facing him, and cut to the chase. “Tell me the real reason you’re here.”
He moves into the dark recesses of the building, propping a hand against the partition next to my face, the dim lighting hardening the angles of his face, slashing it in half by shadows. A band of light cuts across his eyes, and they burn bright blue. “I told you. I wanted a study break.”
“Okay…”
His face might be cloaked in darkness, but even so, I can tell his eyes are dancing. “Okay what?”
I wish he’d cut the crap. “So, you’re here because you were thirsty. And what else?”
He’s quiet, watchful, when a dark SUV pulls up with tinted windows. For a few seconds, as it idles, his stance hardens and he moves to stand in front of me protectively. He relaxes when the engine cuts off and a young couple steps down, heading towards the coffee shop.
Finally, in a low murmur, his voice resonates close to my ear in a husky drawl. “You know why I’m here.”
“Yes,” I agree quietly with a shiver. “But I want to hear you say it.”
Cal groans miserably.
“Why won’t you just admit you drove all the way here to see me?” I ask gently.
“If you already know the answer, why are you trying to make me say it?”
“Because I’m a girl, and that’s what we do.” My head tips back against the brick wall, and I watch him from under my long lashes. “Hurry up and spit it out. I have coffee to brew.”
Minutes on the clock tick by.
“You’re a brat.”
I push off the building and straighten to my full height as I start towards the door, throwing in a theatrical eye roll to illustrate just how over this conversation I am. “I’m going inside. Thanks for stopping by.”
I know he’s not going to let me go, and two seconds later I’m proven right when my back is pressed flat up against the cold, brick wall.
Greyson 1: Cal 0
Smugly, I let him struggle for the words I crave from him, but this time I don’t goad him into talking, even though I know Becca is going to be pissed when I walk back inside after leaving her alone behind the counter for so long.
“You’re right.” His deep voice whispers next to my ear, and I get chills when he braces those sexy, muscular arms on either side of my face, his breath caressing my cheek. “I drove an hour to see you, and I would have driven three.”
God, that is so sexy and romantic.
“Say that again.”
He pauses before his palms slide down my shoulders, and his large hands span my waist. “I drove an hour to see you,” he repeats, his full lips grazing the soft spot behind my ear. “And I would have driven three.”
Oh yeah.
My head tilts to the side, my eyes flutter shut, and I almost forget to breath. “Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Cal’s lips drag slowly across my jaw, his abrasive beard stubble sending shocks of pleasure up my spine.
God, I love his facial hair. “Say that again.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My lips curve up into a sly smile. “Good.”
World around us forgotten, I exaggerate my pucker, inviting him in. I ache with need for him.
We ache with need for each other.
Our lips press together, and for a moment we do nothing but breathe in and out, the same air. The same breath. Cal’s full mouth covers mine, deep and…
Tentatively, our tongues touch. Deliberately. So agonizingly unhurried.
I’m breathless now, my knees shaking.
Painful. Arousing. Exciting.
It’s wet, and delicious, and incredible.
Grey: I still can’t believe you just showed up tonight. I hate to be the one to say it, but… it was really romantic.
Cal: You’re not mad, are you?
Grey: NO! Why on earth would I be?
Cal: Just checking.
Grey: That kiss was… indescribable.
Cal: Yeah, it was pretty incredible.
Grey: I don’t know how I made it back into work, my legs were all wobbly. I could hardly walk straight.
Grey: You showing up was off the charts sexy and romantic—albeit a tad stalker-ish. Totally something I would do if I were one. Which I’m not. But YOU are.
Cal: Stop.
Grey: IF I did have a stalker, I would want it to be you.
Cal: Ditto.
Grey: Soooo… Becca thought you were cute… *avoids eye contact and checks nails*
Cal: What? Cute? Ugh, nooo! Anything but cute! A wise woman once said that CUTE was the “kiss of death” and for grandmas and kittens.
Grey: LOL. I did say that, didn’t I? But it’s true. Because when she said you were cute, I wanted to tackle her to the ground. Haha, kidding.
Cal: Are you trying to tell me it made you jealous?
Grey: What? Me jealous? Pfft.
Grey: Okay, yes. I was jealous.
