Wicked Lies Boys Tell

Max has Leah pulled to a corner and his arm is wrapped possessively around her waist. It irritates me because she doesn’t even like the guy. My irritation at him outweighs her awkward line of questioning and I stalk over to them.

I grab her hand and pull her close to me, ignoring Max’s rage-filled glare. “Want to show me your telescopes?”

She looks up and smiles. “How do you know I still have them?”

“You’re still a nerd,” I tease. “I figure nerds have things like telescopes.”

Her eyes roll, but she’s not mad. “Max, I’ll see you around,” she says over her shoulder as she guides me through the sea of people. When we make it to the landing of the stairs, someone catcalls out to us.

“McAlister’s gettin’ some tonight!”

I flip the bird to whichever idiot said that. Leah takes it in stride and doesn’t let his words bother her. We reach the top and she walks us to the end where her bedroom is. She pushes inside and it’s exactly as I remember. Slightly disorganized but cool. Leah always had the most interesting stuff piled away in her room. Still does, apparently.

Closing the door behind me, I follow her over to the window. She shows me where to look and then kills the lights. Her voice is soft and musical as she describes what I’m seeing. We take turns looking. For a moment, I wonder if maybe I’m not gay. What if I did see someone like Leah? Dad would be proud, that’s for sure. But would I be happy?

She’s not him.

The reminder is a cut to the heart, but one I attempt to ignore.

How I feel about Copeland goes beyond our sexual preference. It’s a connection. Something that after all this time, I can’t seem to fully sever. Some days, I think it’s the only thing giving me life. Like the moment I let him go in my heart, I’ll lose me too.

“Hey, Penn,” Leah mutters as she grabs the front of my shirt.

I lean down to hear what she has to say, but instead of speaking, her hand cups my face and her lips press self-consciously to mine. For a split second, I’m reminded of my awkward kiss with Cope. That tiny reminder sends a surge of heat flooding through me. I slide my hands into her hair and grip her gently, eager to deepen the kiss and chase the flame. Her small moan ignites something within me that has me kissing her harder. The urge to consume her and forget everything else is strong. Our kiss becomes overly heated until we’re both pawing at each other. I manage to get her on the bed and underneath me before my brain catches up with me.

Not him.

Leah Collins.

But when I close my eyes, with the alcohol running through my veins, I can almost pretend. I’m reminded of sleepovers when he and I were younger. How we’d crawl into bed and play Transformers under the sheets with just the light of a flashlight until Cope’s nanny would shut us down for the night. I can’t help but think of nights where we talked about everything in the dark. Nights where sometimes Cope would snuggle against me and whisper about how much he hated his dad. Those nights, my blood would run so hot for my best friend. I always wondered if he felt that way too.

A moan drags me from my thoughts and I register that my hand is inside Leah’s shirt. I stifle a groan as I pull away from her mouth.

“We should stop,” I utter, my voice husky from our kiss. The heat that had surged south has cooled now that I’m no longer in the past.

“W-Why?” she breathes.

I give her a half truth. “I haven’t dated anyone in a while, Leah. I don’t want to jump into anything.”

“Okay.”

I lean forward and give her a peck on her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she assures me. Even though she sounds hurt, she doesn’t seem angry with me.

The door swings open and the light blinds us. I yank my hand out of her shirt before turning to glower at our intruders. Max storms in alone, staggering slightly.

“What the hell, Leah?” he roars, his hands fisting. “I thought you were into me.”

I climb out of the bed and point at the door. “Leave.”

He sneers at me. “So you can screw the girl I want? Hell no.” When he starts to shove me, I swing at him, connecting with his jaw. The moment I hit him, all chaos ensues. He lands a punch to my ribs and shoves me into the bed.

“Stop!” Leah yells.

Ignoring her, we pummel on each other. He may be taller, but I’m packing more muscle. I get him with several hard punches before Leah scrambles out of the room altogether. I get slammed into the dresser, knocking some of her makeup into the floor. He turns his back to me, headed for the window, and I charge, ready to strike. I swing out just as he turns around. My fists connects with the telescope as he swings it at me. Pain explodes in my hand.