All The Lies (Lies & Truths Duet #1) by Rina Kent

She’s a pacifier. Mom used to tell me those types usually have a soft, breakable core.

Wait…

Mom?

How can I remember what Mom told me? I thought I didn’t have a mom.

I mean, of course I was birthed by one, but she died during childbirth. From what I’ve gathered about my life—through Google—my dad has been a single parent all his life, so there isn’t a possibility of a stepmom either.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Captain.” Lucy wipes the moisture underneath her eyes. “I won’t do it again.”

“Do what?” I sound as confused as I feel.

“You told us not to cry in public or you’d have us clean the toilet.”

Holy shit. I was a dictator.

“Forget about that.” I offer her my handkerchief, and she takes it like it’s the Holy Grail. “You don’t have to defend me, Lucy. I can stand up for myself just fine.”

“I just didn’t want it to get out of hand between you two. Nao can be really vindictive.”

“Nao?” I raise a brow. “She lets you call her that?”

“Ugh. Old habits. We used to be friends. Best friends, actually.”

“What happened?”

“She hates me since the whole Seb thing. She thinks I knew and didn’t tell her and that I betrayed her.” She lifts a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter.”

God, I feel as evil as Hitler. Wait, maybe I was Hitler in a previous life. After all, we’re both dictators with a tendency for craziness.

“I’m so sorry, Luce.” I squeeze her arm lightly.

She stares with wide eyes, her jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“Lucy?” I wave a hand in front of her face. Shit, I think I broke the poor girl.

“Uh…yeah…sorry. It’s just…we studied together since high school and that’s the first time I’ve heard you apologize.”

“Don’t be silly. Everyone apologizes.”

“Not you, Reina. You don’t do apologies, you don’t offer me your handkerchief, and you sure don’t stay back to make sure any of us are fine.”

Bile rises to my throat as her words strike me like a whip. I was fake. Vain. Selfish.

A shell.

The worst type of person to ever exist.

The thought hurts more than I’d like to admit. It’s like perching over a snow globe and watching myself. From the outside looking in, I had the perfect face and body. I had the grades and the cheerleading squad. I had Dad’s fortune and Alex’s endless support.

But if I look closer, I see a trapped girl. A hollow life.

A nothingness.

Maybe Asher was right to call me a monster.

That gloomy cloud creeps over me and crawls over my skin.

Disgusting.

You’re disgusting.

You should die.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks.

I force myself out of my head and fake a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t let what Bree said get to you. She’s thinking about the team. Without you, our spirits were pretty low, you know.”

No, I don’t know. Why the hell is someone like me popular amongst these girls? I’m not an example they should look up to.

I’m everything they need to avoid.

“I’ll go with you,” I tell Lucy.

Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “You will?”

I interlink my arm with hers and she freezes, her body going tense. I pull back just as fast. Apparently, I didn’t use to do that, and if I keep giving her too many surprises, she might break for real this time.

On our way to the gym, my skin prickles with unwanted attention. At first I think it’s the usual students gawking at me.

It never stops—the attention, the waves, the fake greetings. Today, I contemplated covering my head and remaining in bed.

The only reason I didn’t is because my head scares me. If I stay alone with it, I’ll be doomed. I’ll take the fake flattery over that gloomy cloud any day.

Lucy nudges me, giggling under her breath. When I follow her field of vision, my ears heat.

Asher.

My eyes find him of their own volition. I don’t even need to search for him anymore. It’s crazy how much his presence draws me in.

Sometimes, I think I’m still that lifeless form in the hospital and he’s the one who breathed life into me.

Sure, it’s a toxic life, sinister and dark, but it’s life all the same.

The weird awareness of his presence must be because he’s the reason behind my return to life.

Delusional much, Reina?

He seems to be out on a run since he’s wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts. Lucy tells me he’s been practicing with the track team since he returned, but it’s not official.

I’m not listening to her.

My focus is on the tattoo lines snaking over the top of his bicep, rippling with every step he takes.

The T-shirt is glued to his six-pack like a second skin. His damp hair sticks to his forehead. The dark strands are begging to be pushed back, gripped, combed.

A few guys walk on either side of him, but he doesn’t seem focused on them. Since his aviators are gone, I can finally see his expression.

His eyes are lost in an indifferent zone, like nothing really matters to him. It’s so similar to my gloomy cloud, which tells me to just let go.