The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot

 

THIRTEEN

 

Ispend my entire Sunday in bed, with the worst hangover of my life. Back in Idaho, I drank my fair share with William, but this is fucking hell on steroids. Whatever I had was poison wrapped in a bow. My entire body aches, and every time I move, the tendons quiver as if they’re about to tear. The headache pulsing in between my temples has been going non-stop, making sleep damn near impossible. And the amount of times I’ve thrown up now is pretty concerning.

Leaning over the bed, I take the aspirin my dad so graciously left on my side table with a heaping dose of a lecture. Afterward, he told me not to bother my mother and let her rest. And while I feel like shit, a hole expands in my chest at not being able to see the one person who can make me feel better. Mom makes the best fucking soup, and I know talking to her would ease some of this pain echoing in my sternum. She’d tell me that everyone does dumb shit when they’re fucked up and then make me wash my mouth out again for licking a boot.

I don’t remember it at all, but that didn’t stop the videos and pictures that found their way back to me. Remy has a social media presence to keep up with all the popular authors she likes to read, but on her feed this morning, there I was.

Half-naked, damn near on my knees, licking Lily’s boot like it was a fucking ice cream cone.

When I squeeze my eyes closed, I see it. When I look at my hands or my chest, I see it. She’s somehow ingrained herself into everything, and I begin to wonder if I’ll ever get rid of her.

If I’ll ever be able to forget her.

My head squeezes around the thought, and I groan, pulling a pillow over my face.

What the fuck am I going to do?

I could always expose her, embarrass her the way she’s hell-bent on doing to me. But I don’t want to start more shit or stoop that low. Whatever fucking tantrum she’s having will pass, and soon enough, she’ll find someone else to bother.

A vibration grabs my attention. It’s Remy, calling for the seventh time. I sigh and answer, tapping the speakerphone button and putting it a foot away from my face.

“What’s up, Remy?”

“I’m pretty sure this is what death is. This is what it feels like when he’s at your door, fiddling with your strings, wondering which one to cut.” Her voice is low, hoarse, and I can feel her sickness in my stomach.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “Yeah. I think that’s exactly what this is. At least you’re not the school’s new mascot.”

Emerald High’s bootlicking bulldog. That’s the hashtag circulating with the evidence I’m a dumbass.

She huffs. “I’m really sorry for asking you to go. I kinda feel like some of this is my fault. I lead you right to her.”

“No, don’t even worry about it. She was going to do something like this sooner or later. I’m sure of it. She’s the fucking worst.”

We sit on the phone quietly for a minute. And when I think she may have fallen asleep, she yawns. “Is this going to last all day?”

I smile. “Probably.”

She groans, and I can hear her shifting in her bed. The noise makes me suddenly nauseous, and I burp. It tastes like rancid fire.

Fucking hell.

“I have an idea about how to deal with Lily. I need to take a nap, though, and I’ll call you later tonight.”

A soft knock at my door causes me to jolt upright. My head spins, and the room follows suit, already blurry without my glasses. I clench the sheets, steadying my breath before I hear another knock and Remy’s faraway voice. “You there?”

“Yeah,” I huff out. “Call me later.”

She hangs up, and my gaze stays trained on the door. Dad’s at the office, so it must be Mom. I wanted to see her, but I also feel like shit. If she sees me like this, she may think I’ve reverted back to my ways in Idaho. I don’t think I can stomach her disappointment today. Still, I call her in.

“Come in,” I mutter, and it’s only after I say it that I realize how soft my words are.

Even so, the door opens slowly, and my mother stands in the frame. The hall light behind her illuminates her head in a beautiful glow, making her look like the angel she truly is. She’s dressed in a delicate cream sweater and green forest trousers. Her neck is decorated in a string of pearls, which is always a good sign—it means she had the energy to get dressed.

Relief courses through me, even in my hazy state. “Good morning, Mom.”

My mother smiles and moves inside, carefully sitting at the edge of my bed. She crosses her legs, and her hand finds my shin. Back and forth, she rubs, quietly waiting for me to lay back down.

The sensation makes my eyes heavy—something about a mother’s touch that soothes even the worst pain and lets you relax.

I fall back on my pillow and rest my head to the side so I can still see her.

“Rough night, honey?” Her voice is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, like in the movies where a princess sings to wild animals.

She’s taken care of William and me on more than one occasion, and each time never a hint of judgment in her actions. Only advice. Good as shit advice that I never want to listen to because it always circles back to her thinking I’m heartbroken.

“How are you feeling, Mom?”

My mother sighs, her soft eyes lighting up with her smile. “I didn’t feel so hot this morning, but after some medicine and a good breakfast, I feel much better.”

I close my eyes, embracing the lightness in my chest. I know her condition can’t be reversed, but when she’s able to turn her day around before an episode, it gives me hope. Hope that maybe she’ll hold on. Remember me a little longer.

Love me… a little longer.

“Honey, your heart. I can feel it from here. It’s aching. I thought moving back here might help, but I have this dreadful feeling it’s only made it worse.”

I can hear the sadness in her voice, and it drives me fucking crazy. My already pulsing head quivers when I shake it, desperate for her to know that nothing that’s happening is her fault.

“Don’t move.” She squeezes my leg briefly before standing, rounding the bed, and sitting behind me. Her soft hand connects with my back, and she begins rubbing in circles. “I just wanted to tell you that no matter what is going on, I need you to remember to hold fast and hold steady. You are all that is good in this world, and no matter what tries to deter you from that, don’t forget you’re mom’s sweet boy. Always, always, stay true to who you are.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat and don’t try to blink away the burn radiating behind my eyes. Instead, I close them completely, leaning into her touch.

Within minutes my consciousness ebbs, giving way to a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

THE BELL RINGS, and there’s still no sign of Lily. Part of me feels light, hopeful she’s switched classes, and Saturday night was the end of my misery. But then a familiar tingle descends my spine, and the she-devil herself swings the door open.

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling—she dressed the exact opposite of how I see her like she’s pure. Her oversized white sweater drapes over one shoulder and hangs over incredibly tight bleached skinny jeans. Her nude heels are too fucking high for class, but nothing surprises me with her anymore.

When she sits down, I have to temper a gag from the overbearing rose perfume encroaching on my lungs. It feels like thick poison, flowing down my esophagus, tainting my airways so I’ll never be able to breathe anything but her.

“Well, I’m glad you decided to show up today.” She slams a notebook on the lab table and shifts her body to face me. In my peripheral, she curls a long blonde strand around a finger as she waits.

It’s hard to ignore the heat of her body—it’s mixing with the rage that runs through mine, leaving the air stifling.

Instead of responding right away, I clench my teeth, knowing we still need to get the project done. I hope I can strike the deal Remy came up with. I may not know this new Lily, but I know what used to get my Liliana’s interest. Maybe some of her is under the mask, deep inside, but somewhere that I can still reach.

Peering at her from the corner of my eyes, I shoot my shot. “Can I offer you something?”

“Oh, he speaks?”

My face snaps to look at her fully. Her makeup is thick today—it flakes a little at the corner of her eyes, which seem impossibly darker under the contacts. For a moment, I forget my train of thought, how angry I am, and an unhealthy dose of curiosity takes control.

What made you this way?

“Are you picturing me naked?” It’s only a whisper, but it snaps the thin thread, releasing the anger to flush back through my veins—eradicating the rare moment.

I tilt my head, letting a lopsided grin bring out my right dimple. Her breath catches, and my smile widens, noting the tiniest increase in her breathing. “No, but are you picturing me licking that little cunt of yours the way I did your boot?”

Her lips twitch, and a beautiful sneer takes over. “You can’t lie to me, Spence. You ate up every helping I gave you.” She dips lower, her mouth a few inches from mine. Her eyes linger on my lips, and I hold my breath, scared if I breathe too deep, we’ll touch. “Do you want to lick it like you did my boot?”

My body stiffens, and my dick swells in my sweatpants, allowing her to see that she can still fucking affect me.

She tips her head back, a hideous cackle erupting from her lips. Ignoring all the stares around her, she invades my space again, swallowing the air I breathe out. “I’m only kidding. I would let you die of thirst before I let you drink from this pussy, dog.”

A heat coats my face, and my nose flares. I’m tired of her smart-ass mouth, and for a second, I picture myself wrapping my hand around her throat so she can’t talk anymore.

Fuck. Her.

She sucks her teeth and leans back, twirling her hair as if this was just some ordinary conversation. Like she didn’t just fucking rip my gonads out and squish them under her heel. “Now, what’s the offer?”

I spit the words out quickly, rage coating each one with spikes. “Don’t come back to class. Make up something about your cheer schedule, or whatever the fuck you want, but don’t come back. You do that, and you’ll only have to help me with the experiment part. We meet once a week for six weeks, read a simple script, and go our separate ways. Back to our lives where everything was great, and we didn’t remember the other was even alive.”

Her eyes narrow, but it’s the only change to her cocky demeanor. She examines her cuticles as if she can’t be bothered anymore. “Fine.”

My head jerks back, and a weird combo of relief and trepidation coil around my nerve endings, making my voice an octave higher. “Fine?”

Lily shifts, her gaze flashing to Remy before returning to her long-ass white nails. “Yeah. I have better things to do than waste it here, doing nothing. Just text me a time and location.”

“Great,” I respond, nodding to Remy, who’s been looking back occasionally.

“Great.”