Tell Me Pretty Lies

The sounds of them tussling on the other side of the door tells me that he took her phone.

Thayer narrows his eyes. “Fine. I’ll answer your questions.”

I smile, victorious. “I’m fine!”

“Not good enough. I want to see that you’re okay,” Valen’s muffled voice calls out.

My heart swells and my chest fills with pride. I’ve subjected her to enough horror stories for her to walk away without seeing for herself. Not that Thayer’s capable of any of those things. But rule number one? You never truly know anyone. Rule number two? Never, under any circumstance, leave your friend alone in a potentially dangerous situation.

I move past Thayer and pull the door open. Valen’s eyes are full of suspicion as she glances between us, then pushes the door open to scan the room.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“You’re soaking wet,” she points out.

“Don’t look at me like that. Ryan Matthews doused her with beer, then tried to stick his tongue down her throat,” Thayer explains.

Valen raises her eyebrows, looking at me for confirmation. I roll my eyes, then nod. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow, okay?”

She crosses her arms, seeming to mull it over. “Better be one hell of an explanation,” she relents.

“Where’s Christian?” Thayer asks Holden.

“He and Baker are getting rid of Ryan.”

“Kick everyone out, then take her home.”

“Gladly.” He grins, handing Valen’s phone back to her. She jerks it from his hand, giving him a scathing look.

“No thanks. I’d rather crawl home.”

Holden’s eyes flash with a wicked gleam. “That could be arranged.”

“Valen, please let him take you.” Holden isn’t a threat. Conniving and manipulative, sure, but not dangerous. She knows that, too. She’s just being stubborn—not that I blame her.

“Fine.” Sh

e turns for the stairs, making it halfway down before she turns back around. “Well? Are you coming?”

“With any luck,” Holden mumbles under his breath.

“Tell Christian to stick around. Meet back here when you’re done with her?”

Holden nods before following Valen down.

Thayer reaches an arm around me to slam the door shut and I flinch, turning to face him with a glare. “Start talking.”

“Not yet.”

I shake my head, irritated with these games. “Fine. I need to get cleaned up,” I say, gesturing to my wet dress that sticks to me like a second skin. I smell like beer and I feel like a drowned rat. If we’re going to have some sort of powwow, I’m not going to sit through it like this.

Thayer jerks his chin toward the hall bathroom. “You know where the shower is. I’ll leave some clothes on the sink.”

“Great,” I clip out, turning for the door. I pull it open and step into the hall, hesitating at my old bedroom door directly across from Thayer’s. Curiosity has my hand reaching out, hovering over the lever, but I drop it at the last second. That’s not my room anymore. This isn’t my house, and this isn’t my family.

“It’s empty,” Thayer answers my unspoken question, his voice much closer than I thought he was. A pile of clothes appears in front of me on top of his outstretched palm.

I swallow hard. Of course it’s empty. What did I expect, that they’d keep it for me, just in case? Without a word, I take the clothes and turn for the door to the left of my old one, then shut it behind me. I flip the lock, then toss the clothes onto the marble countertop. I brace my hands on the edge of it, taking in the white vessel sink, the ceiling showerheads that pour onto you like rain, and the separate oversized bathtub off to the side, separated by only a glass partition. My grandmother’s house is no shack, but it doesn’t compare to the luxury of the Ames’ estate.