The First Lie

But maybe this is perfect timing.

I look back at Thayer, who still hasn’t acknowledged my presence. Two can play at this game, I think. There’s one way to discover exactly what Thayer thinks of me: to feign interest in someone else. It’s usually at the bottom of my bag of tricks, but I’m seriously running out of options here.

I turn to Aidan. “Thank you soo much,” I croon, taking the proffered beer from him and clinking my bottle against his. “Cheers.”

As I take a deep swig, I can almost feel the moment when Thayer turns and locks eyes on me. I peek over, and yes, he’s staring. Good. But then he catches me looking and arches a questioning eyebrow in my direction. Not a jealous eyebrow. Not an envious, love struck expression. It’s almost like he’s challenging me: C’mon, Sutton. I know you’re just doing this to make me jealous. You’re such a silly girl.

I turn stiffly back to Aidan and thrust my beer at him. “Can you hold this for a second? I need to adjust my top.”

“Sure,” Aidan says, and watches me as I reach up to my neck, untie the thin straps of the halter, and allow the fabric to pool ever so slightly so that just a bit more of my collarbone is exposed. “Can you get my hair?” I murmur to Aidan.

“Uh …” Aidan fumbles for a moment, then places both bottles awkwardly on an iron patio table. He steps forward and lifts my hair so that I can retie my top. His hands shake slightly. I hope I’m having the same effect on Thayer, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of looking over at him to check it out.

“Is that good?” Aidan asks.

“That’s perfect,” I purr, turning back to Aidan and running a finger through my loose curls. Aidan laughs. He grabs his beer and takes another sip. I take a sip of mine, too. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I turn and look at Thayer. He’s standing in the same spot with the soccer guys, but his gaze is still on me. When he sees me glancing his way, he raises a hand in a casual wave.

I whip my head back to Aidan. Thayer is going to have to work much, much harder than that.

“So,” I say to Aidan, sidling closer to him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing calf muscles?”

Aidan turns pink. “Oh, well, we run a lot in practice, I guess.”

After Thayer’s magnetic confidence, Aidan’s nervousness feels like a letdown. I wonder what I ever saw in him. But I smile and purr, “Oh, I can tell.”

Encouraged by my response, Aidan launches into a lecture about the various weight exercises he does to enhance his calves. I sneak another glance at Thayer, and my heart picks up speed. He’s pushing through the crowd, heading right to me. Laurel has been left behind at the fence, and she looks bereft and slightly lost. I feel a slight regretful twinge—even though Laurel drives me crazy, she’s still my sister. But what I feel for Thayer is totally different than what I’ve felt for anyone else. All’s fair in love and war, right?

I step closer to Aidan, touching his forearm lightly. “Want to dance?”

He grins broadly. “Sure.” He takes my hand and leads me back into the house. He steps through the threshold toward the humid, crowded air of the kitchen, and I turn, offering one last look over my shoulder at Thayer. His mouth is set in a thin, tight line, and his forehead is creased in frustration.

That’s how I know my plan is working.

11

YOU CAN DANCE IF YOU WANT TO

The basement-level rec room of the Banerjee house has been transformed into a makeshift dance floor. The space is huge and finished in smooth, cream-colored stucco and adobe tiling, with moody, striking desert-scape photography adorning the walls. The plush sectional sofas have been pushed aside to make room for the crush of bodies. Tea lights flicker down here, too, casting wavering shadows along the walls.

Someone has queued an eighties dance playlist, and the room is frenzied, smelling of a sweaty mix of summery, floral perfumes. It’s actually slightly suffocating, and I’d rather be outside again in the cool, fresh night air, but dancing with Aidan is the best way to fast-track my plan. I glance around me as I lead Aidan onto the dance floor. Thayer hasn’t come inside. Once again, I’m tense. Did he decide I wasn’t worth it?

Aidan and I sway to some classic Madonna—Aidan doing more of a dorky knee-dip/head-bob thing—and I try to lose myself in the music, closing my eyes and feeling the rhythm. But my mind is scattered in a million different directions. What is Thayer doing right now? Has he gone back to Laurel? I move closer to Aidan, resting a hand on his hip flirtatiously and drawing his face in toward mine. Aidan grins and wraps his arms around my shoulders in response, resting his clasped hands lightly on the back of my neck. We turn and twirl, navigating the crowded floor as people actually step aside for us. Until there’s a tap at Aidan’s shoulder and we pause, mid-step.

I look up, and my heart soars. Two searing beautiful hazel eyes search mine.

“Mind if I cut in?” Thayer asks, his look implying that no is not an option. The question is for me, not for Aidan, and I can’t bring myself to decline.

Aidan puffs out his chest just like a male bird during mating season. But something in Thayer’s face makes him back down. “Okay,” he says reluctantly. He looks at me. “Another beer?”

“Thanks, Aidan.” I offer him a sweet smile to smooth the moment over.

Thayer moves toward me, and when he touches my hip, anticipation ripples down my spine. The music switches from upbeat to a slow, languid ballad. We exchange a glance, barely hesitating before melting into each other.

Suddenly, everything feels utterly right. He does like me. I can feel it in his fast heartbeat, his shallow breathing, his sigh. I inhale deeply, taking in Thayer’s clean scent. He places one hand on the small of my back, and my skin tingles. I rest my fingers on his shoulders, tracing patterns against the strong, firm muscles of his back. We pull away for a moment and stare at each other, both with small smiles on our faces. We don’t speak. There is no need to speak.

Thayer leans in to whisper in my ear. “Let’s get out of here,” he says softly. His lips against my cheek make me shiver.

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

He takes my hand and winds me through the crush of people again, upstairs and out the front door.

There isn’t anyone else in the front yard, and we crunch through the gravel until we’re out of the porch lights. A slight breeze blows the spiny branches of a mesquite tree, and stars glitter a psychedelic pattern against an obsidian backdrop. Halfway across the yard, Thayer turns to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. There’s a heartbreakingly gorgeous smile on his face, and suddenly, I feel silly for the games I’ve played.

“Thayer, I’m sorry,” I start.

“Shh,” he says. He puts his finger to his lips, then moves forward to kiss me. Softly, at first, and then with more urgency. I fold into him, wrapping my hands around his waist and pulling him toward me tightly. His hands slide down my back as I rake my fingers through his messy waves.

His lips trace my earlobe, my jaw, my neck. I moan, arching back and clutching him tighter. I’ve kissed other guys before, but nothing compares to this.

We don’t speak, just kiss and touch and breathe each other in. We’re completely intertwined, like we’re the only two people who exist in the universe. In fact, it’s almost like we’re one person, we’re so completely and utterly in tune with each other. I never want to separate.

Until I hear a rustle from the hedges. And then a wicked cackle. I shoot away. That’s Madeline’s laugh.

But before I can say anything, before I can stop them, Charlotte and Madeline are jumping out of the bushes, camera phones in hands, triumphant looks on their faces. “Gotcha, Thayer!” they scream as the flashes go off.

12

SURPRISE, SURPRISE

Thayer and I blink in the flashes of light. “Gotcha!” Char crows again.

“You are so busted, Thayer!” Madeline squeals.

Thayer makes an annoyed face. “What the hell, guys?”

“Say cheese!” Madeline trills, taking another picture. Then she turns to Charlotte and slaps her high five. “Another Lying Game success!”

Thayer squints. “Lying Game?” He says it like he’s never heard of it before. But I know he has. I’m sure Laurel’s told him about it, if he didn’t already know from school. I feel paralyzed. I want to somehow put on the brakes, make this all stop, but the words won’t come out of my mouth. Everything is happening too fast.

Madeline straightens and whirls toward me, her blue eyes shining like gemstones. “Sorry we interrupted before you had a chance to invite him to the picnic, Sutton,” she says. “But when we saw you guys dancing, we knew you were going to seal the deal tonight. We just couldn’t hold back.”

Thayer looks at me. “Seal the deal? What are they talking about?”

Madeline puts her hand on her hip. “What do you think we’re talking about, Thayer?”

Charlotte guffaws. “You don’t think Sutton would actually go for you, do you?”

Dark realization dawns on Thayer’s chiseled features. He stares at me, his eyes wide. “Sutton?” he asks. “What the hell is going on?”

“I …” It comes out of me like a burp. Just say it, I tell myself. Just tell your friends that you really wanted to kiss him. But my mouth can’t form the words. The moment I say it, my friends will lose all respect for me. What was I thinking, dancing with Thayer for real, for keeps, in front of everyone? How could I have thought they’d just accept this? And it’s all my fault. If I’d have fought harder to stop the prank, this wouldn’t have happened. Even if I’d had to pull back from Thayer, pretend I didn’t like him, at least it would be better than this.

Charlotte gasps. “Oh my God. He really fell for it! He actually thought she liked him!”

“This is better than we imagined,” Madeline says. “You really thought you were so hot that the most popular girl in school would want to go out with you?”

Thayer steps back as though we’ve punched him. “Sutton, is this true?”

A wave of nausea ripples through me. No, I want to say. Of course not. But then my stomach lurches. I know what I have to do. I have no choice.

I thrust my hands into my pockets and work to keep my voice steady. “It was a prank, Thayer,” I hiss, mustering up every bit of scorn I possibly can. “You needed to be knocked down a few pegs. You can thank us later.”

Thayer’s brows knit together. He balls his hands into fists. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“Nope!” Charlotte crows gleefully.

He staggers backward, almost barreling into a cactus. “So, everything we talked about? That moment we had at your house? Those texts? None of it was true?”

I can’t even look at him. “No.”

Thayer shakes his head slowly. “God, Sutton. You’re an even bigger bitch than everyone says.”

I feel dizzy, the air rushing from my lungs. I know what people say about me, of course. I know what they think. It’s just, I don’t care about their opinions.