If I Lie
Page 25
I know you’re angry, and I don’t blame you. I should’ve been a better man. I will be, if I get the chance to come home. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need another favor.
Keep my secret a little longer. I’m going to call home as soon as I can get my hands on a phone. I’m going to tell my parents the truth. I owe it to them and to you. Give everyone my love, and give my mom a hug for me. Please write back. I need to know you’re okay.
Love,
Me
I drop my forehead to my knees and try to smother the sobs so my father won’t hear them. I’ve been so pissed at Carey, punishing him with my silence. The Carey who wrote this letter? This is my Carey—not the one who kept quiet while I took the blame for something I didn’t do. It’s been so long since I’ve seen this Carey, the one who taught me what honor and friendship are about.
Missing Carey is boring a hole in me. What if I never see him again?
* * *
Last summer, after Carey told me he was gay, I felt like my entire world had splintered. And I hated him for doing that to me. After crying for two hours, I picked myself up, put on some makeup to cover the mess I’d made, and dressed in my sexiest tank top and jeans.
I’d come to the conclusion that something was wrong with me. It had never even occurred to me that Carey didn’t want me in that way. Who the hell dates a gay guy and doesn’t notice? A stupid girl, I’d guessed. Still . . . Why hadn’t I pushed him? Why had I accepted our passionless relationship? Because, if I was being honest with myself, I hadn’t wanted to push him. I liked how comfortable we were. What did that say about me? In trying not to be my mother, had I completely turned off my feelings and become my father? Become a prude instead of a whore?
I left my house that summer night with something to prove. I pretended I wasn’t sure where I was going or who I was going to. What a lie.
Blake and me, we’d always had a rocky friendship. Carey had brought us together whether we liked it or not, and we’d accepted each other for him. But Blake had an edge when he watched me with Carey. Something dark sparked in his eyes when we found ourselves alone. Over the summer, with Carey away at Camp Geiger, Blake and I were frequently alone together. Blake had never said a word—would never betray Carey that way—but some part of me suspected what it was that he was holding back.
That night, I wanted to hear those things Blake wouldn’t bring himself to say. I needed to hear them.
I didn’t feel nervous until I stood on his porch.
I took a deep breath to find the courage—or stupidity—that had brought me there.
Blake opened the door.
Chapter Thirteen
When I knocked on his door, I knew Blake was alone, that his brother worked Saturday nights and his mother was out of town visiting his aunt. Blake answered the door and leaned against the doorjamb lazily.
Clearly I’d woken him up. He wore only a pair of jeans, riding low on his hips, and no shirt. My heart beat a little faster.
He yawned. “Q? Whatdya doing here? Where’s Carey?” Blake looked around me as if he expected him to appear.
“We broke up,” I said. Three words I thought might change everything.
And they did.
Blake lost all appearance of sleepiness, letting go of the door to stand up straight. I will never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. A hint of danger. And hope.
“Can I come in?”
He started and stepped back in a hurry. “Of course.”
I’d been to Blake’s house a thousand times since we were kids building forts in the backyard. This time was different. I should have left right then. Instead, I walked past him and into the living room, where I’d once lounged with Carey on the couch, so sure he’d love me forever. Neither Blake nor I sat down now. We stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other awkwardly.
“What happened?” he asked finally.
I shifted, studying the pictures on his mantle so I wouldn’t stare at his chest. “He broke up with me.”
Blake looked shocked when I turned to face him. “He broke up with you?”
I gave a harsh laugh. “Yep. You sound surprised.”
He stuck his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I am. You guys are Marine Barbie and Ken.”
That last bit sounded bitter, echoing what Angel’d always called us. I took a step toward him.
“Did he say why?”
Because he’s gay.
I’d thought I was over crying, but the concern in Blake’s voice had my eyes filling. I examined the floor, trying to get my emotions under control.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”
His arms surrounded me, and I let myself lean into him, breathing him in. Blake had put his arm around me before, laughing while we walked with Carey, but it had never felt like that. I’d never felt like that.
“Did he cheat on you, Q? Because I’ll kick his ass if you want me to.”
His low voice vibrated next to my ear. Heat, I realized. The feeling I’d been missing with Carey was there with Blake. Nerves skittered under my skin wherever he touched me. He rocked me like a person rocks a crying child, but it felt like we danced.
I tilted my head back to look at him, and our eyes met for a long, silent moment.
Then I stood on my tiptoes and reached up, up, up to kiss him.
Blake didn’t bend to meet me halfway but leaned back, as if his mind couldn’t accept what I was doing. He didn’t turn his head, though, when I set my lips on his. The kiss didn’t feel comfortable at all. It felt terrifyingly good.
Keep my secret a little longer. I’m going to call home as soon as I can get my hands on a phone. I’m going to tell my parents the truth. I owe it to them and to you. Give everyone my love, and give my mom a hug for me. Please write back. I need to know you’re okay.
Love,
Me
I drop my forehead to my knees and try to smother the sobs so my father won’t hear them. I’ve been so pissed at Carey, punishing him with my silence. The Carey who wrote this letter? This is my Carey—not the one who kept quiet while I took the blame for something I didn’t do. It’s been so long since I’ve seen this Carey, the one who taught me what honor and friendship are about.
Missing Carey is boring a hole in me. What if I never see him again?
* * *
Last summer, after Carey told me he was gay, I felt like my entire world had splintered. And I hated him for doing that to me. After crying for two hours, I picked myself up, put on some makeup to cover the mess I’d made, and dressed in my sexiest tank top and jeans.
I’d come to the conclusion that something was wrong with me. It had never even occurred to me that Carey didn’t want me in that way. Who the hell dates a gay guy and doesn’t notice? A stupid girl, I’d guessed. Still . . . Why hadn’t I pushed him? Why had I accepted our passionless relationship? Because, if I was being honest with myself, I hadn’t wanted to push him. I liked how comfortable we were. What did that say about me? In trying not to be my mother, had I completely turned off my feelings and become my father? Become a prude instead of a whore?
I left my house that summer night with something to prove. I pretended I wasn’t sure where I was going or who I was going to. What a lie.
Blake and me, we’d always had a rocky friendship. Carey had brought us together whether we liked it or not, and we’d accepted each other for him. But Blake had an edge when he watched me with Carey. Something dark sparked in his eyes when we found ourselves alone. Over the summer, with Carey away at Camp Geiger, Blake and I were frequently alone together. Blake had never said a word—would never betray Carey that way—but some part of me suspected what it was that he was holding back.
That night, I wanted to hear those things Blake wouldn’t bring himself to say. I needed to hear them.
I didn’t feel nervous until I stood on his porch.
I took a deep breath to find the courage—or stupidity—that had brought me there.
Blake opened the door.
Chapter Thirteen
When I knocked on his door, I knew Blake was alone, that his brother worked Saturday nights and his mother was out of town visiting his aunt. Blake answered the door and leaned against the doorjamb lazily.
Clearly I’d woken him up. He wore only a pair of jeans, riding low on his hips, and no shirt. My heart beat a little faster.
He yawned. “Q? Whatdya doing here? Where’s Carey?” Blake looked around me as if he expected him to appear.
“We broke up,” I said. Three words I thought might change everything.
And they did.
Blake lost all appearance of sleepiness, letting go of the door to stand up straight. I will never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. A hint of danger. And hope.
“Can I come in?”
He started and stepped back in a hurry. “Of course.”
I’d been to Blake’s house a thousand times since we were kids building forts in the backyard. This time was different. I should have left right then. Instead, I walked past him and into the living room, where I’d once lounged with Carey on the couch, so sure he’d love me forever. Neither Blake nor I sat down now. We stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other awkwardly.
“What happened?” he asked finally.
I shifted, studying the pictures on his mantle so I wouldn’t stare at his chest. “He broke up with me.”
Blake looked shocked when I turned to face him. “He broke up with you?”
I gave a harsh laugh. “Yep. You sound surprised.”
He stuck his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I am. You guys are Marine Barbie and Ken.”
That last bit sounded bitter, echoing what Angel’d always called us. I took a step toward him.
“Did he say why?”
Because he’s gay.
I’d thought I was over crying, but the concern in Blake’s voice had my eyes filling. I examined the floor, trying to get my emotions under control.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”
His arms surrounded me, and I let myself lean into him, breathing him in. Blake had put his arm around me before, laughing while we walked with Carey, but it had never felt like that. I’d never felt like that.
“Did he cheat on you, Q? Because I’ll kick his ass if you want me to.”
His low voice vibrated next to my ear. Heat, I realized. The feeling I’d been missing with Carey was there with Blake. Nerves skittered under my skin wherever he touched me. He rocked me like a person rocks a crying child, but it felt like we danced.
I tilted my head back to look at him, and our eyes met for a long, silent moment.
Then I stood on my tiptoes and reached up, up, up to kiss him.
Blake didn’t bend to meet me halfway but leaned back, as if his mind couldn’t accept what I was doing. He didn’t turn his head, though, when I set my lips on his. The kiss didn’t feel comfortable at all. It felt terrifyingly good.
