Perfect Lie
Page 18I listened to it close, and the lock clicked. Then I heard his heavy footsteps up the steps and down the hallway. I held my breath as the door opened; I was in no condition to fight, but I would give it all I had. I glanced at the silhouette of Abel in the doorway. He didn’t move for a long moment, giving me time to fully regret every decision I’d made that night.
“What are you trying to prove?” he asked. The anger in his voice was gone, replaced with concern, and it somehow made me more uncomfortable.
I tried to respond, but a sob escaped my chest, and he crossed the room quickly and knelt beside the bed. His fingers ran over my forehead and through my hair as his eyes searched my face.
“I didn’t think you’d be here, and I wanted one night of not having to listen to Trish getting laid. How did you know where to find me?”
“Lucky guess. If you wanted to avoid me, you shouldn’t have come to my place,” he said, as his fingers continued to soothe me.
“You live here?”
“Off and on. I bought it when my grandpa got sick. I knew I couldn’t stay in his place after he died…so I wanted a place of my own, and I found this.” He looked around the room. “It needed someone to take care of it, and I figured I could do the job.”
“You have your hands full.” I looked around the room and back at Abel, whose eyes never left mine.
“Don’t I know it,” he said with a sigh, and pushed himself to his feet as he shook his head. “Trish is pissed.”
“Great.” I put my hand over my eyes. “I can’t deal with her right now.”
“You don’t have to.” He pulled open a dresser drawer and tossed a T‐shirt at me. “Put that on. I’m going to go get you a snack and some water.” He walked toward the door but turned back to add, “Don’t go fucking disappearing, Kettle. If I have to hunt you down again, I won’t be so nice.” He left, and I pulled off my shirt and skirt and slipped the T‐shirt over my head. I reached my hands behind my back and unhooked my bra and pulled it off.
Chapter Eleven
Comfort Food
A few minutes later, Abel came back with a sandwich and a bottle of water. I ate the food with no complaint and guzzled half the water before coming up for air.
His eyes traveled down my bare legs and back to my face. “I’ll sleep down on the couch. Yell if you need anything.” He moved to get up from the edge of the bed, and I grabbed his wrist. He looked down at my fingers and back to me.
“Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”
“That’s a bad idea.” He shook his head, but I tightened my fingers as I silently pleaded with him not to leave me alone.
“Just talk to me,” I said.
“We don’t have anything to talk about.” He shook his head. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Kettle?”
He stood, and I let my grip slip, but he didn’t leave. I watched as he pulled his shirt over his head, and I saw every dip and rise of his muscles in the moonlight. He stared down at me as he let his shirt fall to the floor and crawled into bed next to me. I slid over the tiny twin bed, and he turned me so my back was facing his chest. His arm slid under my waist and the other over my hip as he pulled my body back against him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, as he breathed over the back of my neck, sending a chill through my body.
I closed my eyes, knowing damn well sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon. We lay in comfortable silence, and for once my heart raced due to something other than anxiety. It thumped as his heart drummed.
“Can I ask you something?” I held my breath as I waited for a response. I felt him nod, his head moving against my neck. “Why don’t you just go back?”
“Nothing to go back to.”
I nodded and curved my body into him more as his arms tightened a fraction. “Same here.” I breathed deeply, and his arms clasped me more tightly before he relaxed his hold.
His lips moved against the side of my neck, causing my head to swim. “We both know that isn’t true,” he said.
If I had breathed, I wouldn’t have heard him speak, but his words echoed in my chest, and guilt washed over me in heavy, drowning waves. I closed my eyes and hoped Brock didn’t show his face in my dreams tonight. I couldn’t look him in the eye. But I was never that lucky.
“Are you scared about leaving?” Brock’s lips pressed against my temple, and I froze, wanting this moment to last forever.
“I don’t know what to do without you.” I grabbed my shirts from my drawer and shoved them into a plastic bag on my bed. With his fingers he brushed the hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. His hot lips pressed against my skin, and I sighed, loving how sweet he was to me.
“It’s not forever,” he told me. “I promise. My mom said I’ll be out of here in a few weeks if I stay out of trouble.”
I glanced at him, knowing it would take a miracle for him to stay out of trouble.
“I’ll be good, Bird. I promise. I won’t screw this up for us. You just have to get through a few weeks of school without me.”
“I know. I’ll be fine. I just can’t imagine not having you wake me up every morning.” I tried to sound optimistic, but it was hard when everything in my life had gone wrong. Brock’s hand went to my cheek, and he turned my head to face him.
“One day I’ll be there to wake you up again, Bird. I promise. We’ll have our forever.”
Strong hands held me tightly as I woke up to the first light of morning. I smiled as I stretched my aching muscles.
“I could wake up like this every day,” Abel grumbled against my shoulder, and I squeezed my eyes closed as he awoke fully and his fingers slowly loosened their hold on me. “Delilah…” He said my name as if he were just realizing who he had spent the night with, ruining the perfect dream from the night before. I wondered how many different women had awoken in the same position as me and wished I’d spared myself the humiliation.
“Hoping for someone else?” I knew it was rude, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t woken up expecting Brock.
“Definitely not.” He rolled onto his back behind me, and I turned over onto my other side to face him. He reached down to the front of his jeans and readjusted himself. He certainly wasn’t shy—not that he had any reason to be. His head turned toward me, and our noses nearly touched.
“Sleep well?” he asked with a devilish smirk, and I shrugged, completely drowning in the ocean of his eyes. “Sorry. It has a mind of its own.”
I giggled and buried my face in the pillow between us, my hand covering my eyes. His fingers wrapped around mine, and he pulled my hand from my face, lacing our fingers.
“Are you embarrassed, Kettle?” He was making fun of me, and I scowled as I tried to free my hand from his.
He glanced his toward his crotch and back to me. “I haven’t had any complaints.”
“Doesn’t count if they’re too wasted to speak.” I rolled onto my back and draped my arm across my forehead.
Abel propped himself on his side, and his eyes traveled the length of my body. “Got you in my bed, didn’t I?”
“Dream on.” I sat up and slid off the end of the bed, my sober mind catching up with how stupid I’d acted the night before.
Abel fell onto his back and watched me as I moved around the bedroom, collecting my clothing. “Thank you for taking care of me last night. I know I screwed up your plans.”
“It’s no big deal. There’s always tonight.”
“Shit! I’m late for class. What time is it?” I ignored his comment about Trish; it was easier to block out things than dwell on them.
Abel lifted his arm and looked at his watch. “It’s time for an omelet.”
I stood up and glared at him, my hands full of slut gear. “I have to go to class. We aren’t all pissing in the wind and hoping life works out.”
“Have you ever tried to piss in the wind, Kettle? People would pay good money—”
I put up my hands and shook my head. “What time is it?”
“Noon.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grabbed a pair of his basketball shorts off his dresser and pulled them on. I hurried out of the bedroom with Abel laughing as he followed a few steps behind.
“You might as well take the day off,” he called after me, as I took off across the lawn to his car.
I jumped into the passenger seat and watched him as he strolled casually to the car, a shirt over his shoulder. He slid in and started the engine then flipped through the radio stations. He rolled down his window and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the dash, popping one into his mouth and holding the pack out to me. I shook my head and watched as he patted his pockets for a lighter. “I think I left it in the house. Do you mind if I—”
“Ugh.” I leaned forward and pushed in the built‐in lighter.
“Very smart, Kettle. You don’t need college after all.” Abel put the car in drive and headed toward my place as I silently cursed him the entire trip.
The apartment was empty, because unlike me, Trish had made it to where she needed to be this morning. I took her clothes into my room and dropped them onto the dirty‐laundry pile to wash later. Abel stood in my bedroom, leaning against the doorframe.
“I’ll wash your clothes and get them back to you,” I told him.
“Don’t worry about it. If I ever need some, it’ll be nice to have them here.”
His eyebrow lifted as he looked me over, and I realized how stupid my statement was.
“Well, at least if I hurry, I can still make my last class.” I moved to walk out of the bedroom, but Abel didn’t step out of the way.
“I clothe you and give you shelter, and you refuse to feed me. What would Jesus do, Kettle?”
“You’re a bad influence.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Fine. I’ll make you something to eat.”
He stepped out of my way, and I went to the kitchen to get started. I pulled open the fridge and dug around for the eggs but found an empty carton. “The eggs are gone. What else do you like?” I called out, as I looked over my shoulder.
Abel stood just outside my room with a small black dress dangling from his finger. “I like this.”
I walked over to him and snatched it from his hand. “Seriously. You need to learn boundaries.” I tossed it onto the pile of clean clothes I’d ripped out of my closet the night before when trying to find something suitable for clubbing.
“Says the girl who slept in my bed last night.”
“Do you want me to feed you or not?”
He nodded, and I walked back to the kitchen and resumed my place in front of the fridge as I searched for something that would take minimal effort to prepare. Abel groaned as he slid into the chair behind me. I pulled out the little bit of leftover spaghetti and held it up for his approval.
“Absolutely.” He smiled, carefree, as he laced his hands behind his head. I uncovered the bowl and popped it into the microwave, pressing my back against the counter and drumming my fingers at my sides as I waited.
“Why Trish?” he asked, and my fingers stilled.
“I should ask you the same,” I replied, but his gaze never wavered.
“She is who she is. No hidden agenda.”
The microwave dinged, and I turned to grab our food and a couple of forks. I took the seat next to Abel and held out a fork. He took it with a smile, and we both ate in silence.