I’m more terrified if she finally decides to tell the truth.
One of us might end up dead tonight.
Or worse—I’ll lose control and fuck her. Although, from the way her body responded to me last night, she just might enjoy that.
I’m not surprised to find Liesel already sitting on the beach as the sun begins to set.
She’s wearing a red bikini top and jean shorts. Her skin is more tanned than it was this morning. She must have spent the day in the sun.
Meanwhile, I spent the day in torment.
I readjust the bag on my shoulder as I walk down to the beach to meet her. I’m glad she’s wearing clothes; I just wish she was wearing more clothes.
The waves crash against the shore as I take a seat next to her. I don’t bother with a towel this time. We sit directly on the sand tonight.
Once again, I pull out two lowball glasses and pour them with Liesel’s favorite scotch. Luckily, it’s my favorite scotch too.
She takes her glass, and we drink, watching the waves and the setting sun.
Clouds are covering most of the sun. Instead of the vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds that usually paint the sky, tonight’s sunset is muted. It’s gray and pale yellow. It’s fitting for the conversation we are about to have.
“Care to skip ahead to the part about what your half of the letter says? Or just skip the next couple of years of our past? Maybe tell a happy story. I’m in a foul mood.”
She smirks. “Why? Didn’t get good sleep last night?”
I lift my glass to my lips. I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight. “Something like that.”
“Try sleeping on the hard floor of a closet. Then you can complain.”
“You are welcome in my bed anytime.”
She bites her lip but doesn’t take me up on my offer.
“That’s what I thought.” We both finish our drinks. I take the bottle and pour more scotch into our glasses.
“You’re terrified of what I’m going to say, aren’t you?”
I roll my shoulders back. “No.”
“We can always tell when we are lying to each other. You’re grumpy, sleep-deprived, and antsy. And you’re a shot away from being drunk. You only get like this when I get under your skin.”
“Start talking before I decide to take away a month of your life.”
Her eyes narrow at me.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” she says.
That makes one of us.
“I had three protectors. Three men who cared about me in very different ways. One claimed I drove him mad. That I was a spoiled little princess even though I didn’t have a penny to my name. That I took more than I gave,” she starts her story.
Zeke—she’s talking about our friend Zeke who always found Liesel annoying. But he never took the time to get to know her like Enzo and I did.
“One claimed to love me. He stole kisses, fucked me senseless, gave me everything—money, clothes, college tuition.”
Enzo. Her words burn through me like a raging fire. She’s trying to get me irritated before she gets to the hard part. But it’s all difficult. Hearing that she fucked him, even though I already knew it, hurts.
“And one claimed to be my best friend. He claimed to protect me, to kill for me. He couldn’t offer me money, or love, or kindness, but he could offer me his protection.”