More Than Lies Page 2

  “Fiction. I write romantic stories.” I lean forward, grabbing the large wine glass next to the plate of food I polished off twenty minutes ago, downing the remains. When is our waiter going to bring the darn check so we can leave? Please, God, have mercy on me already.

  “Oh.” Shocker...not. Like everyone, he’s thinking smut. Not that that isn’t accurate. It’s just not the whole picture. I say romance book, people think sex book. Just because sex, however much there is, is in a book, doesn’t mean it’s a sex book. That’s just plain rude. It is romance people, in many different shapes and forms as the human body. About the same time as Princeton, oh I mean, Preston, here is trying to find something to say, my phone chimes telling me I have an incoming text message.

  I quickly retrieve it from the table, welcoming the distraction. When I see it’s my brother, Trent, my face lights up like Christmas. He always has that effect on me. Trent is the one and only person I’m related to that I actually like and get along with. He gets me, always has, when no one else did. And being the big brother he his, Trent always shows up when I need him the most, just like now, even if it is via text message.

  Trent: Hey you. What’s up?

  Me: Boredom, clad in a cheap suit from TJ Maxx thinking he’s a big shot. You?

  Trent: Judgmental for someone whose favorite store is Target.

  Me: Touché.

  Trent: Mom said you were on a date. Figured I’d see if you needed an excuse to leave. Ky’s on her way home and should be heading through Oxford in the next few minutes.

  Me: It’s practically over. Just waiting on the check. Is she stopping or heading straight to Tupelo?

  Trent: Tupelo, unless you need her.

  Me: I’m ok, just ready to get out of here.

  Trent: Still coming down in a few weeks?

  Me: Of course, I’m ready to party in Jack-town.

  Trent: You seem to think there’s shit to do down here. I assure you, there is not.

  Me: Whatever...it’s where you are. That’s all that matters.

  Trent: Awww...my little sister misses me. Shucks, I’m touched.

  Me: Shut it, butthead.

  Trent: Get home safe. TTYL Sis.

  Me: K, love you!!

  Trent: Love you more, brat.

  That isn’t possible.

  I place my cell phone back down on the black linen tablecloth before looking up to see a set of eyes masking a shade of irritation. When our eyes meet, he casts his to the side, looking out into the restaurant, briefly. What the fudge is his problem? I am not about to apologize for having a quick conversation with my brother. With Trent in his second year of residency at the medical center in Jackson, I don’t get much time with him. I’ll take what I can get when I can get it. My brother comes first to me and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Not for this bloke anyway. Bloke...ha, I love that word. I crack myself up. Why couldn’t I have been born British? They have the coolest slang words.

  He speaks, bringing me out of my inner thoughts.

  “I paid the check while you were on the phone.” Yep, that’s the source of his sour attitude. He tips his wine glass back, polishing off the rest of his drink. I don’t respond. I don’t care to. He stands so I stand too, then we make our exit from the restaurant.

  The ride home is quiet which is more than okay with me. I have zero in common with this guy except the status of our parents. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t go that far. I mean, it’s not like I know his parents. Maybe they’re not, ‘I’m so better than you, snobby douchebags’, but...they probably are.

  Within ten minutes we arrive at my house. I say my house, but in reality I just live there and have for the past three and half years. It’s Shawn’s house, well actually it’s his grandparents, but they retired and moved to Florida close to fifteen years ago. They kept the house because they are die-hard Ole Miss Rebel fans and hoped their only two grandchildren would attend the University. Shane did along with my brother. They both lived in the house about six years ago. Shawn only attended for the first semester then decided college wasn’t for him, but he still lives here along with me and our other two roommates, Mason and Matt. Matt and I have been best friends since ninth grade. Shawn and Mase, well they’ve been thicker than thieves since we were little kids. Mason’s family moved into our neighborhood about a year after my family did when I was five years old.

  “Nice house,” Preston comments as he shuts off the engine. I’d have to agree with him. This place is pretty stellar, especially for a group of college kids living here rent-free. It’s a four-bedroom, three-bath house and being the only female, I somehow lucked into getting the master bedroom. I’m still not sure why Shawn let me have it, but I’m not complaining and certainly not going to rock the boat to inquire.

  There’s a nice size backyard with a pool and an amazing kitchen on the backside of the house. I love to cook, and next to reading it’s one of my favorite things to do. It’s relaxing and a way for me to unwind. In all honesty, it’s probably the reason Shawn allowed me to live here. His mom taught me everything I know about cooking. I’m not a jealous person, at least I don’t think I am, but when it comes to Shawn and Shane’s parents, I’m a little envious. They are nothing short of amazing.

  Lucky bastards.

  “It is.” I finally agree after unbuckling my seat belt. He does the same and I’m guessing he’s expecting me to invite him in. There is after all a party going on inside. There’s always a party happening on the weekends at the house. It’s a Friday night and at just past ten this place is just getting started. I’d be rude not to invite him in. Hell, maybe he might find a girl better suited for him than me. There is someone for everyone, or so Mrs. Braden is always telling me. I’m just not convinced that person exists for me. Well, at least not the one I want.

  If you can’t have the one you want, then what’s the point?

  “Wanna come inside?” I’m surprised to find myself actually not annoyed by this idea. I’m sure this guy isn’t as bad as I have imagined. So what if his parents are friends with mine. Does that mean he’s self-centered like they are? No, of course not, and I’m being unfair to the guy. I should at least give him a chance, right?

  But this isn’t the first time my mother has swindled me into going out with a guy.

  As I’m thinking this I hear him respond with a, “Sure.” I look him over once more before opening the car door and climbing out of his yellow corvette. Reality is, I’m simply not attracted to him. No amount of spending additional time with this guy is going to change that. Now, I’m regretting the invite. Oh well, too late. As I round the car, he’s waiting for me to the lead the way, so I do just that. The moment he places his palm on the small of my back, my body stiffens. I speed up slightly, trying to give him the hint that I don’t like him touching me. To my dismay, he does the same then places his hand back in the same spot.

  Take a hint, dude.

  Once we reach the front door, I open it and we’re greeted with a blast of loud music. A smile graces my face as we walk over the threshold. I love music, loud screaming obnoxious melodies. I’m a lot rock-n-roll and metal with a side of country and a dash of Harry Connick Jr. My mood is already tipping up for the better as I step out of the way to allow Preston to enter. After I close the door, I kick off my purple heels that match my dress, leaving them by the entranceway.

  “Remove your shoes.” I order. Preston gives me a questioning glance, but complies.

  “There are always a ton of people coming and going around here,” I start to explain. “The house belongs to one of my roommate’s grandparents. The first time a party was thrown here the floors had to be redone the following week. Do you know how much it costs to have someone sand and re-polish a house that’s all wood?” I don’t give him a chance for a response. “A lot.” And it was. That was almost a decade ago when Shane and my brother lived here, but still. I don’t even want to imagine what it would cost today.

  I head down the hallway, bypassing th
e living room to my right, and head straight toward the kitchen. The smell of grease and cheese infiltrate my nose before my eyes land on the mass array of pizza boxes everywhere.

  This is going to be a fun clean up for me tomorrow.

  “Want something to drink,” I toss over my shoulder as I enter the kitchen, walking to the junk desk and hooking up my iPhone to the charger. As I pivot, heads look our way. Mason has his arm thrown over a petite redhead I’ve never seen before. It’s not unusual. He’s got a different bedmate every week. I halfheartedly smile as my man-whore of a roommate gives me a knowing shrug. Matt has his girlfriend, Amanda, tucked in front of him. He nods my way while Amanda scrunches up her nose. It’s a failed battle on Matt’s part. His girlfriend and I will never be friends, but being as he’s my BFF, I’ll make nice with her even when she’s a catty bitch. Which is often.

  I turn my attention back to my guest, awaiting his reply. “Drink?” I ask again with a touch of annoyance at having to repeat myself. His head is slow to turn. I glance around him, noting that he’s caught the attention of one of Amanda’s friends that she brought for the weekend from Mississippi State.

  “Yes, please. A glass of white wine would be good.” Is it appropriate to roll your eyes in front of your date? Nope, I don’t think it is. I go for a sympathetic smile.

  “We don’t have win—” Amanda interrupts my response.

  “I have Sauvignon Blanc.” She states as she presses off Matt’s chest. “You want?”

  “Absolutely, thank you.”

  Well, isn’t he just so well freakin’ mannered.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce all of us to your new friend, Taralynn?” Amanda pins me with a stare as she pulls the door on the refrigerator open, grabbing the bottle with one hand and then closing it back with the other. She plays the nice card too, when she wants to impress someone.

  “Everyone, this is Preston.” I reply with an even tone. “Preston, everyone.” Am I being rude? Probably, but it’s not like he’s going to be around after tonight. I did the one date thing to make my mother happy. He and I aren’t going anywhere and I don’t feel the need to tell him everyone’s name. Heck, I’m not even sure who everyone is. Sure these people are over most weekends, but they aren’t my friends. I socialize with them a little, but I don’t know them as well as Matt and Mason do. I know the ones that live in our neighborhood or frequent the local pub I work at, but the others? No clue. I’m sure most go to Ole Miss like Matt, Mason, and me, but it’s a big campus and I’m too busy for much of a social life beyond my roommates.

  “Taralynn.” Amanda’s voice is a scold and I want to roll my eyes. “That just won’t do.” So she precedes to hand Preston a glass of golden liquid then starts rattling off the names of everyone hanging in the kitchen. When she is done there, she grasps his elbow and hauls him off toward the living room where I’m sure she is introducing him to more people. It’s no surprise when Cassie, her friend tags along. She is another snobby bitch that I don’t like.

  “Good date?” I swing my head in Matt’s direction. His question doesn’t require a response. He knows full well I didn’t want to go, nor is Preston my type. “That’s not going to go over well with the evil queen, you know.” By evil queen, he’s referring to my mother. I coined the name for her after watching Snow White when I was ten because really, that’s how I see my mother. She hates me and nothing I ever do will please her. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. And believe me, I’ve tried. It’s just taken a lot of years to finally come to this realization. I wish I knew why my own mother dislikes me so much. If I knew what I did maybe I could fix it.

  “I don’t care. I went, it’s done, and there is no need to do it again.” I pull open the refrigerator, grabbing a Corona for myself. After slamming the door closed, I pop the cap off with a bottle opener then toss it on the counter before taking a swig. Now this is what I’ve needed all night. It’s so much better than that wine junk I had to endure at dinner. It needs a lime though, but after glancing around the counter and not seeing any lying out, I turn my attention back to my friend.

  “Lie to someone else, why dontcha.” He’s right. As much as I hate it and hate myself for caring, I do. I care way too much what my parent’s think of me. I know full well I’ll never measure up to the daughter they want me to be. I’m just tired of trying so hard. I see no point anymore. They don’t give a crap about what I want or what makes me happy. They never have.

  Walking over to stand next to Matt, I bump his hip with mine, confirming he’s right, but not acknowledging it. The way his light ash brown hair is sticking up in all different directions makes him look like he just crawled out of bed. It does that when he’s in dyer need of a trim.

  “So,” I tip my beer up to my lips before continuing. “Trent wants us to come down in a couple of weeks. Kylie is throwing a Halloween pool party at their house in Jackson. Y’all game?”

  “Yeah, but how does that make sense.” Mase chimes in. “Costumes, makeup and water don’t go hand-in-hand.”

  “I don’t think it’s so much about the Halloween part. That’s just her excuse to throw a pool party. I think she misses this.” I gesture around the room indicating the house that’s starting to get in full swing. Kylie, my brother’s girlfriend, and the love of his life, is a social butterfly. She loves people. All people. She will strike up a conversation with anyone and by the time she’s done with you she knows everything about you, your family and friends. I love her, but we are complete opposites.

  “So we don’t have to dress up, then?” Matt asks sounding relieved. He isn’t into Halloween. He won’t admit it to anyone, but I know it freaks him out. He can’t watch the movie, IT. Clowns are the devil in his mind. That thought makes me snicker causing him to bump my hip except his had a punch behind it. He knows I know, but neither of us verbalize it.

  “Don’t think so.” I take another sip as I see Amanda and Preston re-entering the kitchen with Cassie trotting behind. Amanda scowls at me telling me she doesn’t like that I’m way too close to her boyfriend. I down the remains of my beer, push off the counter, and I walk over to stand against countertop next to the refrigerator where all the liquor is lined up. If I’m going to deal with her crap tonight and have Preston here, too, I need something stronger. I pour a shot of Tequila and down it. Most people do tequila with salt and lime; not me. I like the awful burn it leaves and without the lime it lingers longer. Yes, I’m an odd one.

  I turn around catching site of Shawn, my third roommate, as he enters the room. It’s unusual for him to be home so early on a Friday night. He usually stumbling in after the house starts to winds down and when he’s three sheets to the wind. He surveys the room, eying me and then giving Preston a once over. In that short span of time, he’s already sized my date up and doesn’t like him. It’s no surprise. Preston is nothing like my sexy brooding roommate in any way, shape or size.

  He heads my way. I turn around, facing the bottle of tequila and shot glass as Shawn pulls the refrigerator door open, and if I had to guess, he’s retrieving a Corona of his own. I pour myself another, and then down the shot. If he’s going to be in my presence for the night I need all the mellowing I can muster. Shawn makes me nervous. He always has. He probably always will. And the bastard freakin’ knows it.

  When I turn back around I see I was right. Shawn does in fact have a Corona in his hand. I look away, because well, I have to. It’s hard to look at him and not ogle. Shawn’s six foot two stature towers just above my five foot eight inches. I’m not tiny in any means, but neither is Shawn. Where I’m a little fluffy, he’s cut and ripped with tattoos down the entire length of his left arm and the majority of his back is covered in ink. At the moment he’s clad in a black t-shirt with the logo of the tattoo studio he works at, Southern Ink, displayed on the front and loose fitting blue jeans that don’t look that loose on him. I’ve seen Shawn plenty of times in next to nothing. His thighs are massive and drool worthy.

  I migh
t be making an attempt not to ogle, but every female in this room except the redhead attached to Mason’s hip, isn’t making the same attempts. I roll me eyes. Shawn gets this type of attention often, too often.

  “Who are you?” Shawn demands looking at Preston, eyeing him from head to toe. Shawn’s not much of a social person; well he is, to a degree. He was always one of the popular kids in high school, but he doesn’t seek people out or shoot the shit. He does however make a point to know who everyone is that enters the house. Shawn is in charge of making sure it stays intact and no one gets hurt while they are here. Ultimately, what he says goes. He’ll kick someone out without a thought if he thinks they’re being stupid or might be untrustworthy.

  “Oh, that’s Preston.” Amanda pipes up even though she wasn’t the one being spoken to. “He’s Taralynn’s date.” The bitch sounds smug and I have no idea why. When is Matt going to wake up and see the hideous behind the facade? Probably never. Why? Because men think with their cocks and Matt is no different. He’s been dating Amanda since high school. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now.

  Shawn comes to perch against the section of the counter I’m leaning against. His hip presses against mine. He wraps his inked covered arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I have no choice but to wrap my arm around his lower back while the palm on my other hand rests over the material covering his abdomen, in order to steady myself. I’m not foreign to Shawn’s body. I’ve known him practically my whole life, so there have been plenty of times I’ve touched him or he’s touched me. All innocent, of course. He’s the only person that knows where to tickle me and loves to remind me of that fact as often as possible.