Wicked Lies Boys Tell

I know, though.

I see the heavy looks directed my way.

I was the one with his tongue down my throat.

I’m the one who felt how aroused he was through his swim trunks in the pool that night.

And yet…I never said a word. Part of me, no matter how betrayed I felt, didn’t want to do that to him. I know his dad almost as well as he does. His dad is a prick. If he found out through the grapevine his son was gay, there’s no telling what he’d do. Jason McAlister is vindictive and nasty. A cruel bastard when he wants to be. Sure, I was infuriated with Penn, but I still couldn’t out him.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs and he sees Max, he attempts to charge at him, but I’m quicker. I yank him to me and rush us out the door. His body pulses with anger.

“I don’t know why you’re so pissed,” I grumble as we walk across the field through the cars.

“She doesn’t like him. She likes me.”

“But you don’t like her,” I tell him.

He stops and I nearly trip over my feet. When he turns his face to look at me, his eyes flicker with sadness. “It was the first thing I’d felt in years,” he rasps out. “I wanted to chase that feeling.”

Uncomfortable with his words and the unguarded way with which he’s staring, I grunt and get us walking again. When we reach my car, he lets out an appreciative whistle.

“I always wanted to ride in this car. You got it…” he trails off, sighing.

After.

I got this car after our blowout and he never got a chance to ride in it. Just like I’ve never been in his Jeep.

I open the passenger side door and help him in. With his hand cradled to his chest, he looks pitiful. I’d bet my entire trust fund that he’s broken it. But, if Penn is anything like he used to be, his stubborn ass won’t believe it until he sees the X-ray himself. I grab the seat belt and hook him in before closing the door. Once I’m settled in my seat, I try not to focus on the fact I have my ex best friend in the car beside me.

“Where’s Ivy?” he asks, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes.

“We broke up.” I let the engine roar, killing off any reply he might have had. The Camaro fishtails as I peel out of my spot on the grass. Once we’re on the main road, he speaks again.

“You broke up with her, huh?”

“How’d you guess?”

He shrugs. “Intuition. You weren’t into her. You never were.”

“We had fun,” I mutter out.

“But you didn’t love her. Not like she probably loved you.”

Ignoring him, I turn on the radio. With Radiohead blasting some soulful lyrics, I haul ass down the dark road toward town. Ivy will be okay. Especially now that I’m gone. She’ll probably bounce back by the beginning of next week. Most likely with Jett Michaels. I’ve seen the way he stares at her as though she’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. I hope he’s ready to get burned. Ivy doesn’t play fair and someone like Jett will learn real quick that she’s difficult to handle. The mayor’s son, no matter how much he cusses, smokes, and listens to Manson, will never be fully equipped to manage a girl like Ivy.

We drive through McDonald’s and I park in the middle of the empty bank parking lot next door. I steal a glance at Penn. His brows are furled together as though he’s in pain, but he sips the hot coffee, powering through it.

“If it’s broken, what do you think your dad will say?” I ask, my voice soft. I’m not sure why I care. But right now, with him drunk and not hiding behind his walls, I feel like I want answers. When our friendship got destroyed, I expected him to find another friend or even a boyfriend. I didn’t expect my best friend to disappear before my eyes over the years. He’s changed. I know I’m partly responsible for that change. Guilt and anger are at war most days, especially when I see the struggle flickering behind his smiles he gives to everyone.

“I don’t know,” he utters finally. “If I’d hurt it on the field, that’s one thing. But fighting?” He swallows audibly. “If it’s broken, I’m screwed.”

I sip my coffee and ponder his words. He’s right. If Jason learns it was from fighting, he’ll lose his mind. I hate his dad.

“Cope?”

The pained way with which he says my name makes my chest ache. “What?”

“Why are we here right now? Why are you helping me?”

Clenching my jaw, I look over at him. His brows are furled as he sips his coffee.

“I just am,” I grunt.