Wicked Lies Boys Tell

Cope may be straight and my best friend, but I will never forget the way his eyes seared into mine as I looked up at him from my knees. Maybe, even for only a few moments, he was right there with me.

There was no gay or straight.

No right or wrong.

Just us.

Penn and Cope.

Always tethered to each other by some invisible force. Even two years spent apart, that connection I’d thought was severed continued to exist, linking us even when I thought we’d long been cut apart. Because the moment he spoke to me this past weekend, I felt the pull. The yank on our cord grew taut, and he’s been reeling me closer ever since.

“Helloooo,” Leah whines.

Cope’s eyes linger on mine for a moment before he gives her his attention. “What?”

“Ugh,” she grumbles. “This is why I hate you guys. I was always the third wheel in our friendship.”

“Awww,” Cope teases, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his lap. “Are you jealous?”

With her, tiny and cute, sitting in his lap, I can’t help but be jealous. He holds her with ease, a half-grin on his lips. No matter how much I want to pretend I could ever be with Cope, I’m a realist. He belongs with a girl—a good girl like Leah—who makes him smile and laugh. Giving in to his affections that I’d give my soul for, she leans back against him. His palm settles on her hip. I have the urge to pry his hand off her.

“I just want a solution. Dad says we’re eating dinner at the McAlisters’ tonight. To make things official.” She huffs. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

When she absently starts stroking his hand with her fingertip, I’ve had enough. I scoot over as I pull her to the bench between us. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I lean in and bring my mouth to her ear.

“We pretend, babe,” I say, a teasing lilt to my voice. “Give our parents what they want to hear. Tell them we want a long engagement. We use them like they want to use us. Then, when we’re done, we break up. Simple as that.”

Cope pats her thigh and his hand remains there. “Simple as that.”

“It’s going to be so embarrassing when people find out I’m engaged to you, Penn,” she grumbles. “We’ve barely talked up until this past weekend. No one will believe it.”

Cope squeezes her thigh. “So make them believe it.”

Leah looks up at me in confusion. “Really?”

From behind her, Cope nods, urging me on. I cradle her small, soft face with both of my hands. “Really.”

Cope’s hot gaze is on mine, making my stomach clench. “Penn likes to practice, Leah. So practice. It’ll be better for when you’re around your parents if you’ve given it a few trial runs.”

Finally, getting on board, she nods. “It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”

Some voices titter from nearby as more people exit the building. Knowing this is my chance, I press my lips to hers and kiss her. Sweet and gentle at first. Then, her fingers slide into my messy hair and she kisses me back. As I kiss her, I can’t help but look at Cope for his reaction.

My little liar who lies is smiling.

But his eyes flare bright blue.

Cope gets jealous, too.

I’m ransacking my room when the door flies open. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Cope.

“She fucking took my pills,” I snap, my blood nearly boiling over with fury at my mother. “My hand is throbbing like hell and my own goddamn mother took my pills. Unbelievable.”

Cope throws himself down on my bed. “You didn’t really think she’d leave them alone, did you?”

No.

Not really.

I honestly don’t need them for my hand.

The numbing was what I was after.

Kicking off my shoes, I join him in the bed. I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling, my mind running a hundred miles per hour.

“Tonight is going to be awkward as hell,” I admit.

“Need backup?”

I turn my head to lock eyes with him. His expression is unreadable. He reaches forward and toys with my hair.

“You really should do something about this hair,” he tells me, his lips quirking up in a deviant smile.

“Some asshole fucked it up,” I complain with a matching grin of my own.

His features soften. “Did you make him pay?”

“I sucked on him until he cried ‘Uncle.’”

Blue eyes glimmer with barely hidden lust.

The eyes don’t lie, Cope.

“He sounds like a pussy,” he says, his fingers tugging at another strand of my hair.

“Maybe,” I tease, earning a raised brow from him. “But his dick is really nice.”

He snorts with laughter. “Just really nice? You’ve got to be kidding me. I bet it was the best damn dick you’ve ever seen.”

All jokes fizzle into the air when his gaze breaks mine to travel to where my own dick strains in my jeans. His eyes—slightly panicked—flicker to mine. He licks his lips and of course I can’t help but look at the perfect shape of his pink, pouty lips.