Lies We Tell (Thistle Cove 3)

“Like your dad says, it’s my job to do all this.”

“It is, and it’s my job to push the boundaries.”

She looks down at the cookie bag and reaches for it. I grab two more and let her have it.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” she says in her most authoritative voice.

I grab my backpack. As much as I’m ready to get the hell out of Thistle Cove, especially after that scene after school today, I’m definitely going to miss my mom.

I enter my room and the first thing I see is a flat, square box on my bed. My stomach twists, both nervous and excited. Finn, I presume. He’s in and out of this room like a thief.

As always, there’s a note written in thick black marker.

No pressure. When you’re ready. Just thought it would look good on you.

His name is smudged.

That boy spoils me.

I haven’t even had the chance to tell him or the others about the ending of my shit-tastic day. Sitting on the bed, I lay the box in my lap and open it. I push aside the pink tissue paper and stare at the contents.

My heart and stomach react as I touch the silky, pale blue lingerie.

Alice’s words echo in my brain.

“Promiscuous behavior.”

That’s part of what made me so angry. The slut-shaming. I haven’t even had sex with two of the boys. Other stuff? Yes, but we’ve been playing a slow game of cat and mouse. Yet even now, even leaving this for me, Finn’s not pushing me toward anything.

When you’re ready.

Finn’s been good about going slow—letting us get reacquainted. Taking it on my terms. This is the most forward move he’s made yet. I’m not a rash person. I’m a thinker and a planner. Which is what I do through dinner. Think about the lingerie hidden under my pillow. Plan how I want to move forward.

This is my story.

Not Rose’s. Not Alice’s. Not Jason Chandler's.

Am I ready?

By the time the dishes are cleaned, and my homework is done, I’ve decided.

I’m ready.

He likes to surprise me with little things—well, I can surprise him too.

I pick up the box and open it, running my fingers over the silky lace.

I know just how to do it.

11

Finn

I get home from my training session late. I look out the window, but Kenley’s light is off. She’s already in bed or studying downstairs. I hate being so busy—so physically tired—but I’ve worked hard for the opportunity to play college ball and I can’t throw that away. Even if it’s for the most beautiful girl in the world.

I shower and change, eating my dinner in my room while reading my class assignment. I hear college athletes can get fluff classes. I almost hope it’s true. There are just only so many hours in a day.

I fall asleep twice during homework, the second time letting my books slide off the bed and onto the floor. I reach for the light and turn it off, passing out as soon as my head hits the pillow.