The Lies That Define Us (Us 2)

I watched the last of the soap drain away before stepping out and drying my body, so I could pull on a pair of boxers. Dropping the towel in the sink, I flicked off the bathroom light before stepping into my room.

“Hey.”

I lifted my head at the sound of Ari’s tentative voice.

She sat in the middle of my bed with her legs crossed and her fingers busily tracing the pattern on my bed covers. Her dark hair tumbled over one shoulder shielding her face slightly from me. She was dressed in a loose gray shirt and a pair of shorts that showed off the endless expanse of her smooth, tan legs.

“You told me to come find you,” she whispered, still not looking at me.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, and my added weight jostled her. She laid her palm flat on the bed to steady herself.

“I did,” I agreed. “I wanted to share my truth with you.”

She raised her eyes to mine. “I forgot we hadn’t done that.”

“Come on,” I held a hand out to her, “I want to show you something.”

She pressed her lips together in thought, probably wondering what the hell I could possibly want to show her, and placed her hand in mine. I stood and helped her off the bed, and together we quietly made our way downstairs past the family room and down the hall.

I stopped outside the room I’d forbidden her from.

My darkroom was deeply personal; it was the one place in the world I had that was entirely my own. Until that moment no one but myself had ever set foot inside. Not my friends. Not my family. But I trusted Ari enough to let her into that part of my life.

I grabbed the key from the top of the door—not the best hiding place, but sometimes hiding things right under people’s noses is the best way for them not to notice it—and unlocked the door.

It swung open, and Ari stepped inside. I closed the door behind us, leaving us in complete darkness.

“Liam?” Her voice grew high-pitched with worry.

“It’s okay.” I squeezed her hand and turned on the only small lamp in the corner. It only provided a minimal amount of light, but since I didn’t have anything currently developing, I didn’t have to worry about it.

Photos hung from clothespin lines I’d strung from the ceiling. I had quite a few hanging since I didn’t know what to do with them. I kept a lot of my photos, but some I gave to a local art store to sell. I didn’t need the money, so I never kept the profits. Instead, I donated what I made off of them to various charities.

Ari stared wide-eyed at the photos with a look of astonishment. She glanced from photo to photo, her awe growing with each one. Her reaction pleased me, and I felt a strange sort of pleasurable warmth invade my chest—something akin to pride.

“You…You…These are yours?” She reached up like she was going to touch one of the photos but let her fingers fall before they made contact.

“Yes.” My eyes flitted over her face, making a mental note of the small smile on her lips and the wonder in her eyes. I crossed my hands behind my back, and said, “This is my truth, the one where you can see the world through my eyes.”

“They’re beautiful.” She swallowed thickly. “Spectacular, really.” Her eyes lingered on a close-up photo of a homeless man.

“His name is Joe,” I told her, “and he lost his family, his home, everything, really, in a flood and has been living on the streets ever since. He let me take his picture and we chatted for a while. I think he was happy to have someone to talk to. I bought him dinner, and you would’ve thought he’d won the lottery or something.”

She smiled coyly. “So Talia and Ollie aren’t the only ones that have a penchant for helping the homeless?”

I chuckled. “No, I guess not.”

“What about this one?” She pointed to a photo of an abandoned building, the exterior crumbling, with a broken bike propped against it.

“It’s just an old building a few miles from here,” I explained. “I don’t know why, but I’ve always found it to be rather beautiful even if it is falling apart.”

“You find beauty in broken things,” she whispered, walking around the room and taking in more photos.

“Maybe so,” I agreed. “Or maybe I’m attracted to things that remind me of myself.”

She stopped and narrowed her eyes on me. “You’re not broken, Liam. You’ve been hurt, certainly, but you’re not broken. Trust me.”

I heard something in her tone that made me pause. “Have you been broken?”