Wicked Lies Boys Tell

Me: I have money put away.

Penn: For?

Me: To get my own place while I apprentice. I don’t want to do fucking finance shit. I want to draw for a living. Preferably on people.

Penn: You’re really serious about this tattoo stuff?

My skin heats with embarrassment, which is dumb. It’s just Penn.

Me: Yeah. Just have to find a place to take me in and not have my dad find out until I’m ready. Wanna be my first victim when they actually give me a gun?

Penn grins at me, and fuck all if my heart doesn’t stop in my chest.

Penn: Hell yeah.

My own smile grows into a wicked one.

Me: What if I tattoo a dick on you?

Penn: I’ll kick your ass.

Me: It’d be worth it.

His smile falls and his brows furrow together as he types.

Penn: You can do whatever you want. You know what I like.

All jokes have fizzled away and he gives me a look that sears itself into my soul. Of course I know what he likes. I know him. We may have lost two years, but the same Penn I’ve known since we were old enough to remember lives in this overgrown man’s body.

Me: You’ll love it. Whatever it is. I need to sketch some things and think it over.

He flashes me a broad smile and winks at me before turning back to his notes. A flush washes over me—one I don’t know how to interpret. Penn’s arrival back in my life has my mind a fucking mess. My knee starts bouncing and the urge to bolt is strong.

A hand slides over my thigh, stopping my movement. I jerk my gaze to Penn. He pats me in a comforting way that has illicit thoughts making my dick jolt to life in my jeans.

“No pressure,” he murmurs and then pulls away.

He’s talking about the tattoo, but my mind is thinking about more.

Penn

“We need to talk about your future.”

Dad’s words stop me in my tracks. He and Mom are sitting side by side in the living room. Mom looks higher than a kite. Dad’s tight expression and slightly curled lip have him looking more disgusted than usual at me.

I drop my backpack to the floor with a loud thunk and cross my arms over my chest. “What of it?”

“Come sit, son,” Mom says, absently waving at the furniture in front of them.

With a groan, I stalk into the room and plop down in an armchair. “I have studying to do. Can you make it quick?”

Dad sits up straighter. “I’m sorry for losing my cool and striking you.”

He’s not. I nod anyway.

“I have a proposition for you,” he continues.

Oh, God. I know I’m going to hate whatever he has to say.

“I will pay for your college since your grades are subpar and won’t get you any scholarships. After that stupid fight, you lost your chance at a football scholarship.” He lifts a brow as if waiting for me to challenge him so far. I remain silent, so he continues. “I want you to get your degree in business. Specifically, real estate law.”

“I was thinking finance,” I utter. “I’m better with numbers.”

He waves me off as though my words are stupid. “I’m not finished.”

Gritting my teeth, I wait for more.

“Your success is very important to me,” he drawls out.

No, my success reflects upon him.

Dad loves being the shiny star of our town.

I’m tarnished under the glow of my father, barely hidden from all to see.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your mother and I got together?” he asks, voice businesslike and not at all nostalgic like one should be when referencing the beginning of dating.

“No,” I grumble.

Mom lets out a tittering giggle. Dad ignores her, his eyes sharp and focused on me.

“Your grandfather owns all those restaurants across the country as you know. And my father was a Wall Street man.”

I’m bored already.

“But,” Dad continues, “they were from the same town and settled there. Two influential men with a lot of opportunities at their fingertips. My father had your uncle Stephen and me, whereas your mother’s father had her.”

I tense, unsure where this is leading.

“It made business sense to blend our two families.” Dad smiles and Mom shudders. “I was eighteen when my father and your mother’s father sat us down. They promised to set us up on our own path of success. A marriage that was an integral piece for future success.”

My blood runs cold.

“I met with Gil Collins for drinks today at lunch. We’ve decided since your career path will be changing due to the broken hand that happened in his home, that your best chance for success is to marry Leah.”

I jolt to my feet, panic rising up inside of me. “W-What?”

Dad also stands, his lips pursing together in a firm way that always had me standing straighter as a kid. Today is no different. My spine stiffens.