Love or Lust (LOL): Part 3

Day 32

Sleep didn’t come.

I tried to convince myself it was because I wasn’t used to sleeping alone anymore. That without Jace in my bed I wasn’t as comfortable. That his warm embrace is what lulled me to sleep.

The truth was that I was angry.

My mind wouldn’t turn off knowing that Jace was with Teegan. That if or when he finally did show up, he’d smell like her.

How far was he willing to take his lie? Was he going to sleep with her? Lead her on until the very end?

Was he really leading me on?

Was what he said to her the truth and I was the one being lied to all along?

My heart cracked as the thought crossed my mind. He wouldn’t do that to me. Neither would Lennon. Unless they were the best actors on the planet, there was no way they were both using me.

I wanted to text him, but I had his phone. He’d left it sitting on the bar in the game room, so I snagged it and brought it back with me thinking he would be here minutes after I arrived.

It was close to five o’clock in the morning when he crawled in next to me, kissed me on the cheek, and rolled away. He didn’t try to pull me into his arms. He smelled like he was fresh out of the shower, his woodsy scent surrounding me as he got comfortable.

My mouth opened and closed a few times, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him anything. I was too afraid of the answers he would give me. They would either be another lie or the truth.

Both have the ability to destroy me right now.

So I did what I swore I would never do again.

I ignored the sinking feeling in my gut and closed my eyes.

“It’s not what you think,”Jace pleads with me again.

I didn’t ask. I didn’t accuse.

I didn’t say anything at all.

Nope. I’ve been sitting quietly sipping a cup of coffee since we woke up an hour ago. He’s the only one who’s been talking. More like begging me to say something, but I haven’t.

“I swear to God, nothing happened. You have to believe me.” The panic in his voice rises with every word.

The thing is, I want to believe him. I just can’t bring myself to ask where the hell he was if he wasn’t with her and he wasn’t here with me.

Pacing the length of the kitchen again, he stops to refill his coffee mug, the sound of the single-cup machine the only noise filling the tense space between us, and then lets out a sigh.

“I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. I should have come right back here. I told you I would be right behind you, but she wouldn’t let me leave, and then after she finally passed out”—

She wasn’t even drunk I want to yell. She had two drinks and was acting!

—“I went back to find my phone. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it, so I went to my place to see if it was there. I still couldn’t find it, so I woke up Lennon, and he helped me check the pool and game room again. It never occurred to me that you would have it. That you picked it up and brought it back here.”

Then why did you shower?

He doesn’t offer an explanation, and I still don’t say a word.

My stare says it all. I won’t meet his eyes even though I’m looking in his direction. There’s this cute little scar above his left eyebrow I never noticed before. It’s perfectly circular and barely visible except for the fact that I’ve been staring at it the entire time he’s been talking. Now it’s all I can see.

Which is fine.

Because if I look him in the eyes, I’ll be able to tell whether he’s lying to me or not, and I’d rather not see the lies. I want to believe that his words are true. That I didn’t spend the last four, almost five, weeks falling in love with someone only to leave here heartbroken.