Twisted Lies by Nora Cobb
Chapter 4
Astrid
All day Saturday, I avoid knocking on Charlotte’s door and continue to make excuses for not seeing her sooner. Track has an away meet, and then afterward, I’m in my room studying to keep my grade up. Especially if there’s a slim chance that I might go to college. Fight club is on tonight, but again, I’m not on the roster. So, I might as well skip it and see her. Staring out the dorm window at the growing darkness, I let out a long sigh.
I didn’t expect Charlotte to return the same day as her mom’s funeral. No one did, but she came back last night and spent it alone in her dorm room.
Terri taps on the open door to our room. He doesn’t seem bothered that he’s breaking the propriety rules. But Roni is eager to see him as she grabs her keys off her desk. I just keep my nose in my book until Terri speaks to me.
“Are you coming, Astrid?”
“No, that’s okay.” I look away as they both study my face.
“We could wait,” suggests Terri to Roni, and she scowls slightly. He wouldn’t hang out with her to have an excuse to come to our room. No, I’m not that vain. Maybe he’s concerned about leaving me behind. Terri is one of the few decent people in this place. It’s strange how he’s managed to stay that way. Besides, I rarely eat dinner without them.
“It’s okay,” I reply. “I want to go talk to Charlotte anyway.”
Terri nods in understanding while Roni grabs his arm and pulls him away. “If you change your mind,” he says as she tugs him into the hallway, “We’ll be there.” He waves as the door shuts.
The sympathy basket is putting a dent in the middle of my mattress. It is impressively packed over the brim with handmade chocolates, a ripe pineapple, samples of cheese, and a small bottle of wine. They grieve differently here. At Monarch, we’d pass around a clean mayonnaise jar, fill it with bills, and then walk the kid from the school to his or her front door, so he or she wouldn’t get jumped.
Sighing, I hoist the basket onto my hip. I check myself for acting like it’s a burden. I’m just stuck on what to say to her. I’m so sorry that your mom is gone should be enough, but then what? What if she cries? Then what am I going to say? I practice in my head as I walk down the hall to Charlotte’s room. I have to knock twice, and there’s rustling from inside as the music is lowered. The door opens, and a rosy-cheeked Charlotte smiles, waving me inside.
“We got you a basket.” I hold it out toward her, and Charlotte squeals with delight. Bizarre. She just buried her mother, and she’s happy to get a condolence basket.
And then I look behind her. Bryce is lying on her bed with a pillow behind his head. His cotton shirt is untucked and wrinkled, and his hair is sticking up in the back.
I avert my eyes quickly and pretend I don’t care because I don’t care. Not anymore.
“I would have gone to the funeral,” I explain without being asked. “But I didn’t know about it until after it happened.”
“Don’t worry, Astrid.” Charlotte beams as she places the basket on her desk next to another one twice the size with twice the stuff. “Bryce was there to support me.” She flutters her long lashes at him. “He is so thoughtful.”
Not the word I would’ve thought of first. I glance at Bryce, whose face is stiff as stone, while he stares back at me. I have no comment to make to him or about him.
I shrug. “In my neighborhood…I mean my old neighborhood, I’d have gone. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Charlotte looks at me, and I mean really looks at me, for the first time since I entered her room. A soft smile plays on her lips as she reaches her hand out to touch mine. I didn’t realize how tense I am until she touches me, and exhaling, my breath leaves me dizzy. My lip trembles, and I pull her into an enclosing hug. She’s my half sister, but somehow our display of affection feels strangely awkward and fake. Our connection is so fragile that I’m afraid one wrong move, and pop, it’ll be gone. We’ll be strangers again who just share DNA.
I let Charlotte go and start to back away toward the door. My intention is to give them plenty of space. She obviously doesn’t need me with Bryce lying across her bed. I can tell by the sheets that he wasn’t lying there alone. Of course, she’s smiling on the worst day of her life. Bryce went back to Charlotte.
Stop chasing Bryce Shelton. I might as well start now, and frankly, after the shit he pulled, I’d rather kick him in his junk so hard that his voice gets stuck on soprano.
“I better go.” I motion toward Bryce without looking. “I didn’t mean to intrude. You know where to find me, Charlotte.” My voice cracks, but I hide the emotion with a casual shrug. “If you want to talk. Okay?”
Charlotte smiles graciously like a porcelain doll in a display window, and I start to wonder about her. If it had been my mom…Nope, not my place to judge the only person who’s tried to help me since the day I arrived. Rawlins is right—the best way for me to help her is to avoid Bryce.
“Thank you for being sweet, Astrid.” Charlotte opens the door and hangs onto it, waiting for me to step through it.
I step quickly toward the door. And then hesitate to stare into her glassy eyes. Charlotte has been crying, but she doesn’t want me to see. What the fuck do I do now? Christ, this is awkward shit. I should do something, so I peck her on the cheek and practically run from the room.
I scoff at my weirdness as I hurry back to my room. That boy bitch didn’t waste any time chasing after my sister. I wonder if Rawlins said something to make him. Bryce, Rawlins would’ve said with her fancy airs, Charlotte needs you to stop acting like a man ho. Tuck it in, my boy, and make her happy.
I grab my purse out of my closet and slip on my jacket, not sure if I should go to the dining hall or the gym. I check my phone. Not quite curfew, but I could kill time and then head over to the Pit. I could relax at the Pit in the one place I know I belong. I change quickly into my new fight gear. With the money Howland gave me, I invested in some slim-fitting bike shorts and a matching racerback tank, all in black. I toss my school blazer over it and head out, walking off toward the trail. I’ll hang out on a boulder until it’s time to leave.
No sooner than I’m heading up the trail, I hear footsteps rushing behind me. I turn around, and Bryce is running after me. And I chase him, she says. He’s wearing his blazer against the chilly air, and his hair is still tousled like he just left Charlotte’s bed. We both know he did.
“Hey,” he says, catching up to me under a lamppost, “we both had the same thought.”
“No, we didn’t,” I reply coldly, stopping in my tracks, “I wasn’t planning on hooking up with my grieving girlfriend.”
His eyes stay on mine a little too long. Did Charlotte tell him about Howland? No. “I was only hanging out to see how she was,” he replies lightly, “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, tossing my gym bag down. “An asshole? Look, I’m done with you. It’s past time that I find someone else, so you shouldn’t have bothered leaving her bed.”
“What’s gotten into you?” he demands, stepping into my personal space. “Why the snippy attitude? Are you finally jealous of me noticing someone who appreciates me?”
I narrow my eyes. “You played me, Bryce, so you need to stop. I know about the Investors Club. You and the other dick-brains had no say on whether I got in or not.”
His grin turns into a hard line. “Who told you that?”
“Nice. So you don’t deny it?” I shake my head in disgust and take a step away from him.
“Whoever told you that was wrong.” Under the overhead light, his breath turns to steam in the cold air. “Do you really think Getz knows how to make money? He’s a teacher on tenure, waiting on his pension. We’re humoring him.”
I narrow my eyes, refusing to believe his lies. “I don’t trust you.”
He moves in close. “But you need me.”
Bryce reaches out to grab me, but I dodge his kiss, pushing him off me. I move my cheek away from his lips, but he tightens his grip on my arms. I gasp from his hold on me. I try to break out of his insistent grip, but Bryce only fights me harder. His mouth goes to my neck, and I feel a chill. My heart starts to race as the scent of his heated skin fills my nose, and I remember how he felt against my lips. His hands go slack, falling off me, but I don’t move away. He lifts his head and stares into my eyes, giving me a cocky-as-hell smile. I want to slap the jerk, but instead, like an idiot, I lean into his kiss.
His tongue wraps around mine as our breath mingles in the air. I push my hands through his hair as I feel his hard muscles under his clothes, pressing against me. I sigh as he looks into my eyes and kisses me again, holding my face and brushing his thumb against my cheek.
I gasp then speak. “They have pictures of us in the stacks.”
“I don’t care,” he whispers, “You need me, and I want you.”
I kiss him again, molding my body against his hard length. I squirm against Bryce as if I could get even closer. I want to get closer. His hand reaches around my back, pulling me in. His mouth leaves my lips and travels down my neck again as his hand reaches up toward my breast. His chilly hand teases my hot skin under my jacket, and I’m so tempted to do the wrong thing. I push Bryce away, and this time, he doesn’t insist.
Panting, he steps away from me. And I have to think of every good reason why I should never trust him or touch him again. There’s one thing I can do for my heartbroken sister, and that’s to tell Bryce never again.
“You need to go back to Charlotte,” I tell him harshly, “especially tonight. She needs you more than I do.”
He stares hard into my face, not sure if I’m a bitch or a tease. Bryce nods. “So, when are you going to need me again?”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to, ever, so don’t wait for it.”
Bryce scoffs. “You’ll need me, Astrid, and you better hope I’ll still want you then.”
He turns his back on me and walks away. Only a brave man turns his back on his enemy. Or a stupid one.
