Wicked Lies Boys Tell

She purses her lips at me and I frown.

“Sorry,” I mumble. For show, I cradle her face with my palms and kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Better,” she says, “but not at all convincing.”

I glance over at Cope and he’s talking to a kid named Jeff, but his eyes are on me. Amused at my little show for our school. Leah and I need to up our game.

“Hey, kids,” a familiar voice booms from behind me.

I turn and nearly cringe to see Dante standing there wearing a wide grin.

“Hey,” Leah and I both utter at once.

Dante clutches my shoulder, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Leah squeaks.

I shrug and look at the linoleum floor.

Dante sidles closer, his palm sliding underneath my backpack at the small of my back, as he whispers, “Wanna come over tonight? You look fine as fuck today.”

“I, uh,” I start, unsure what to say to him.

His palm slides lower, his fingertip threatening to go past the waistband of my jeans. “I’d suck you off right now if we didn’t have a million witnesses and you weren’t a closet gay.”

He pulls away slightly and then he’s jerked away from me completely. Cope’s icy glare has Dante nearly falling on his ass to get away from it.

“What?” Dante demands.

Cope steps forward, murder gleaming in his eyes. I press my palm to his front. Leah hooks her arm in his to keep him from kicking Dante’s ass.

“It’s fine,” I assure Cope. “I can take care of it. I’ll see you in class.”

Leah starts to drag him off, but Cope’s menacing glare remains on Dante until they round the corner. When they’re gone, I square my shoulders and look at Dante.

“You’re a nice guy and all…”

He winces. “We’re not even dating and this feels like a breakup. Is it him?”

Panic rises up inside of me. Are we really that obvious?

“It’s Leah,” I lie. “It was always Leah. I thought I could experiment with a guy, but turns out, I’m just so in love with her.”

His brows shoot up in surprise. “Leah? Leah Collins?”

I can’t meet his confused stare. “I asked her to marry me.”

Silence.

Then, he starts laughing. “You really got me, asshole.”

“I’m serious,” I tell him. “She’s my fiancée.” That’s sort of the truth.

He smirks. “Okay.”

“Dante…”

“Wait. You’re not shitting me.” His eyes widen in shock. “What the fuck, man? Engaged? You’re in high school. Who the hell gets engaged in high school?”

“Me and Leah, I guess.” I flick my eyes to the clock. “I’ll catch ya later.”

I leave him gaping as I make my way to class. Why do I feel like convincing everyone is going to be a lot harder than I ever thought?

The secret’s out.

Dante and his big mouth.

At least it’s the secret engagement and not my secret sexual preference. Mostly, everyone is amused by it. Eager to have something to gossip about. By lunch, though, I’m over it. I find Leah and Cope leaving the lunchroom just as I’m heading that way.

Cope hands me a sandwich and a Gatorade before the three of us make it outside. It’s chilly today, but it beats staying inside where everyone will stare and whisper at us. Leah sits between us on the bench and I’m annoyed that I’m not sitting in the middle instead. We all eat in silence, each of us trying to acclimate to this new setup between us.

“It’s cold,” Leah whines.

I playfully pat my lap. “Warm here, fiancée.”

She laughs but then to my surprise moves to my lap. Her body snuggles against my chest as she seeks out warmth. When I steal a glance at Cope, he’s thrumming with wild energy. The blues of his eyes are nearly glowing with intensity. He tears his gaze from mine to lean back against the table on his elbows. His head tilts up toward the sky and his jaw clenches in an angry way. I can’t help but imagine my tongue sliding down his throat, marking him more. Purple bruises stain his otherwise pale flesh. My mouth waters to lick his protruding Adam’s apple.

“Is that a pickle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Leah teases.

Cope’s head snaps my way and his grin spreads across his face in a villainous way he’s long perfected over the years. His dark eyebrow quirks up and his lips twitch with amusement. “Got a woody over there, Penn?”

“If someone would stop rubbing their ass on my dick, I’d be just fine,” I grumble out. And if someone else would stop looking hot as hell, that’d help too.

“Like this?” she asks, wiggling her hips.

Cope’s expression is no longer amused. He boldly grabs her hips and pulls her back to the bench between us. His arm wraps over her shoulders and he hugs her to him, pinning her arms.

“You’re so territorial,” she says, her pealing laughter echoing all around.