One Tiny Lie
Page 24
I wake with a gasp, the textbook lying across my stomach sliding off and making a loud noise as it hits the ground. Ohmigod. What the hell was that? That was a dream. I just had an afternoon nap with a dirty dream about Ashton. Ohmigod. I sit up in bed and look around. I’m alone. Thank God I’m alone! A strange discomfort stirs between my thighs. It feels . . . frustrating? Is this what Storm and Kacey are always talking about?
I wish I had time to sort this out. But someone is knocking on my door. That must be what woke me up in the first place. If the dream hadn’t been interrupted, would I have had dream sex with Ashton? No . . . my brain doesn’t even know how to conjure that up.
Maybe if I weren’t so frazzled, I would have looked in the mirror. That would have been smart. But Ashton and apparently anything to do with Ashton turns me into a primate.
And so I simply throw open the door.
“Connor!” I exclaim with way too much enthusiasm, my eyes widening in surprise.
I see his eyes shift down and I follow them to appraise my pair of ratty Lululemons and my dad’s old Princeton sweatshirt—three sizes too big for me. “What are you doing here?” I stealthily drag my fingers through my hair. I don’t need a mirror to tell me that it’s a wild mess.
He steps in with an easy smile, one hand coming from around his back to reveal a large pot of green leaves. “Here.”
I tilt my head and frown as I examine it. “Clover?”
“To remind you of me while you’re in here, being a good student.”
“Wow.” I swallow as my cheeks burn. Yes, that’s what I was doing in here. Being a good student. “Thank you.” I try to slow my breathing and act normally.
“How are classes so far?”
“Busy. I’m already swamped with English lit.”
“Are you liking it?”
“It’s . . . interesting.” A hand unconsciously brushes against the folded note in my pocket. The one permanently creased from all the times I’ve folded and unfolded it, running my fingers along the edges, trying to puzzle it out. Trying to make sense of my reaction to it and why it’s made me so giddy when it should make me angry. It’s as though Ashton telling me that he doesn’t regret what happened has now given my brain license to flash inappropriate memories from that one night at an alarmingly more frequent rate, leaving me flushed and scattered and unable to focus. Even Reagan has noticed.
“I won’t keep you, then.” I squeal as, grabbing my waist, Connor lifts me up onto the top bunk. Considering I’m about 125 pounds, that’s not easy. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, I realize, noting the definition of his arms in that gray-striped shirt he’s wearing today. He’s not quite as tall or broad as Ashton, but he’s built almost as well as him.
Ashton . . . my thoughts always veer back to Ashton.
Sliding his hands from my waist, Connor rests them on my knees. “We’re going out tomorrow to Shawshanks. It’s a local bar. Do you want to come?”
“Sure.” I smile and nod.
“Are you really sure? I mean, Ty’s going to be there.”
“In his kilt?”
“Nah, they won’t let him through the door in that,” Connor chuckles, shaking his head as if remembering something. “Well, not again, anyway.”
“Well, I can handle Ty.”
“Yeah? And what about Ashton?”
My stomach does a flip. What does he mean? What does Connor know? What—
“I know you don’t think too highly of him after last Saturday night. I saw the look on your face. You know, after he dropped Dana off . . .” His words drift off like he doesn’t want to come right out and say it.
“You mean when he was being a philandering pig?” I don’t know why I said it. Maybe saying something so mean out loud will remind me of why Ashton is all wrong and I should burn up that damn piece of paper and threaten my subconscious with a lobotomy. I bite the inside of my lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Exactly.”
Connor gives my knee an affectionate squeeze. “Well, I’m happy that you don’t find him as appealing as every other female on this planet seems to find him. But he’s not that bad. He just doesn’t think with his brain most of the time.” Stepping up onto the ladder rungs until he’s level with my face, he leans in to kiss me. This time I feel his tongue slide over my bottom lip, gently finding its way in to curl around mine. Never forceful, never insistent. Just . . . nice. “See you tomorrow, Livie,” he murmurs. Then, hopping off and shooting me a broad smile and a wink, he leaves my dorm room.
I flop back on my bed, holding my clover, closing my eyes as I think about Connor. Yeah, I know my parents would love him, Dr. Stayner. I’m not oblivious. I know they’d pick him out of a hundred-man lineup just because of his smile. That’s okay. He’s the guy they’d want. He’s the kind of guy every girl wants.
I hear a beep and a click and, a second later, Reagan walking in, out of breath from her jog. “I just passed Connor. He was looking happy. Was that one of your rampant sex sessions?” she jokes between pants, gripping her side like she’s in pain.
“He’s really sweet, Reagan.” I roll onto my stomach, resting my chin on my arms. “Did you know how sweet he is?”
“I did. I’ve heard he treats his girlfriends really well.”
Huh . . . I don’t know why but, for some stupid reason, I haven’t even pictured Connor with anyone else. I’ve pictured Ashton with everyone else and it’s made me nauseous. But Connor’s a gorgeous, smart senior. He’s obviously had girlfriends. And, let’s be smart about this, Connor has also had sex. Probably a lot. I wonder how slow he’s willing to go with me. “How many girlfriends do you think he’s had?”
“Two or three since being here.” Reagan kicks off her shoes. “He was single all of first year. God, did I ever have a massive crush on him back then!” She makes a face. “I also had braces and a fat ass. That’s what you get for being short and curvy. If I don’t keep jogging . . . look out!” She pulls her T-shirt over her head and throws it onto the heap on the floor with her other clothes. Reagan isn’t the neatest person in the world. I don’t mind, though. It suits her wild demeanor. “You know, you should start jogging with me!”
“I’m not the most coordinated person,” I warn with a grimace. “I’m liable to take you out.”
She shrugs. “That’s okay, I know how to tuck and roll.”
“Maybe. One day.” Maybe I’ll like jogging. I won’t know unless I try.
Until then, I can work on calming the butterflies that are swarming inside my stomach, now that I know I’m seeing Ashton tomorrow night.
No, Connor, I don’t find your best friend appealing. Not at all.
CHAPTER TEN
Jealousy
Everyone knows Connor. At least it seems that way as we follow the server through the pub. To my left, a guy waves. To my right, another guy fist-pumps. We pass by a table with four young women. “Hey, Connor!” one calls out. He flashes them a smile and a polite nod and continues on. That’s when all four sets of eyes settle on me and I morph into that frog in my tenth-grade science class. The unfortunate one beneath my scalpel. I shift discreetly to avoid their gazes and end up bumping into Connor. “Sorry,” I murmur. But he just displays those perfect white teeth to me. He doesn’t seem bothered that I’m on his heels. He’s never bothered.
I wish I had time to sort this out. But someone is knocking on my door. That must be what woke me up in the first place. If the dream hadn’t been interrupted, would I have had dream sex with Ashton? No . . . my brain doesn’t even know how to conjure that up.
Maybe if I weren’t so frazzled, I would have looked in the mirror. That would have been smart. But Ashton and apparently anything to do with Ashton turns me into a primate.
And so I simply throw open the door.
“Connor!” I exclaim with way too much enthusiasm, my eyes widening in surprise.
I see his eyes shift down and I follow them to appraise my pair of ratty Lululemons and my dad’s old Princeton sweatshirt—three sizes too big for me. “What are you doing here?” I stealthily drag my fingers through my hair. I don’t need a mirror to tell me that it’s a wild mess.
He steps in with an easy smile, one hand coming from around his back to reveal a large pot of green leaves. “Here.”
I tilt my head and frown as I examine it. “Clover?”
“To remind you of me while you’re in here, being a good student.”
“Wow.” I swallow as my cheeks burn. Yes, that’s what I was doing in here. Being a good student. “Thank you.” I try to slow my breathing and act normally.
“How are classes so far?”
“Busy. I’m already swamped with English lit.”
“Are you liking it?”
“It’s . . . interesting.” A hand unconsciously brushes against the folded note in my pocket. The one permanently creased from all the times I’ve folded and unfolded it, running my fingers along the edges, trying to puzzle it out. Trying to make sense of my reaction to it and why it’s made me so giddy when it should make me angry. It’s as though Ashton telling me that he doesn’t regret what happened has now given my brain license to flash inappropriate memories from that one night at an alarmingly more frequent rate, leaving me flushed and scattered and unable to focus. Even Reagan has noticed.
“I won’t keep you, then.” I squeal as, grabbing my waist, Connor lifts me up onto the top bunk. Considering I’m about 125 pounds, that’s not easy. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, I realize, noting the definition of his arms in that gray-striped shirt he’s wearing today. He’s not quite as tall or broad as Ashton, but he’s built almost as well as him.
Ashton . . . my thoughts always veer back to Ashton.
Sliding his hands from my waist, Connor rests them on my knees. “We’re going out tomorrow to Shawshanks. It’s a local bar. Do you want to come?”
“Sure.” I smile and nod.
“Are you really sure? I mean, Ty’s going to be there.”
“In his kilt?”
“Nah, they won’t let him through the door in that,” Connor chuckles, shaking his head as if remembering something. “Well, not again, anyway.”
“Well, I can handle Ty.”
“Yeah? And what about Ashton?”
My stomach does a flip. What does he mean? What does Connor know? What—
“I know you don’t think too highly of him after last Saturday night. I saw the look on your face. You know, after he dropped Dana off . . .” His words drift off like he doesn’t want to come right out and say it.
“You mean when he was being a philandering pig?” I don’t know why I said it. Maybe saying something so mean out loud will remind me of why Ashton is all wrong and I should burn up that damn piece of paper and threaten my subconscious with a lobotomy. I bite the inside of my lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Exactly.”
Connor gives my knee an affectionate squeeze. “Well, I’m happy that you don’t find him as appealing as every other female on this planet seems to find him. But he’s not that bad. He just doesn’t think with his brain most of the time.” Stepping up onto the ladder rungs until he’s level with my face, he leans in to kiss me. This time I feel his tongue slide over my bottom lip, gently finding its way in to curl around mine. Never forceful, never insistent. Just . . . nice. “See you tomorrow, Livie,” he murmurs. Then, hopping off and shooting me a broad smile and a wink, he leaves my dorm room.
I flop back on my bed, holding my clover, closing my eyes as I think about Connor. Yeah, I know my parents would love him, Dr. Stayner. I’m not oblivious. I know they’d pick him out of a hundred-man lineup just because of his smile. That’s okay. He’s the guy they’d want. He’s the kind of guy every girl wants.
I hear a beep and a click and, a second later, Reagan walking in, out of breath from her jog. “I just passed Connor. He was looking happy. Was that one of your rampant sex sessions?” she jokes between pants, gripping her side like she’s in pain.
“He’s really sweet, Reagan.” I roll onto my stomach, resting my chin on my arms. “Did you know how sweet he is?”
“I did. I’ve heard he treats his girlfriends really well.”
Huh . . . I don’t know why but, for some stupid reason, I haven’t even pictured Connor with anyone else. I’ve pictured Ashton with everyone else and it’s made me nauseous. But Connor’s a gorgeous, smart senior. He’s obviously had girlfriends. And, let’s be smart about this, Connor has also had sex. Probably a lot. I wonder how slow he’s willing to go with me. “How many girlfriends do you think he’s had?”
“Two or three since being here.” Reagan kicks off her shoes. “He was single all of first year. God, did I ever have a massive crush on him back then!” She makes a face. “I also had braces and a fat ass. That’s what you get for being short and curvy. If I don’t keep jogging . . . look out!” She pulls her T-shirt over her head and throws it onto the heap on the floor with her other clothes. Reagan isn’t the neatest person in the world. I don’t mind, though. It suits her wild demeanor. “You know, you should start jogging with me!”
“I’m not the most coordinated person,” I warn with a grimace. “I’m liable to take you out.”
She shrugs. “That’s okay, I know how to tuck and roll.”
“Maybe. One day.” Maybe I’ll like jogging. I won’t know unless I try.
Until then, I can work on calming the butterflies that are swarming inside my stomach, now that I know I’m seeing Ashton tomorrow night.
No, Connor, I don’t find your best friend appealing. Not at all.
CHAPTER TEN
Jealousy
Everyone knows Connor. At least it seems that way as we follow the server through the pub. To my left, a guy waves. To my right, another guy fist-pumps. We pass by a table with four young women. “Hey, Connor!” one calls out. He flashes them a smile and a polite nod and continues on. That’s when all four sets of eyes settle on me and I morph into that frog in my tenth-grade science class. The unfortunate one beneath my scalpel. I shift discreetly to avoid their gazes and end up bumping into Connor. “Sorry,” I murmur. But he just displays those perfect white teeth to me. He doesn’t seem bothered that I’m on his heels. He’s never bothered.
