Page 41 of Little Lies

Tully snorted, he would say anything to make her happy. “He was an airhead.”

“He was the wrestling team captain and he still didn’t make it to state with his team.”

Tully laughed, because it was true, and she’d completely forgotten she had even mentioned it to him. It felt like forever ago that it happened. At the time, Erik was so moody about it that he moped around her for a week, as if it were her fault. It took a lot of bribing and gentle coddling to get him to even look at her.

Wow. What an idiot she had been. Completely blind to it all at the time.

On the other end of the phone, there was the sound of someone talking in the background, likely one of his roommates. Eugene’s voice was muffled as he responded to whatever they said, and then he was back on the line. “Hey, I’ve got to go now. We’re all going out to some pub on campus. I’ll talk to you later.”

Tully slumped slightly, disappointed that their chat had been cut short, but she was grateful he’d even taken the time to answer her call. Even though she was busy, she knew it didn’t compare to his robust college life. “Okay, talk to you later.”

“And you better write me back. This doesn’t count as a response. I want a full, handwritten report of everything I’ve missed the past few weeks.”

“Whatever,” she shook her head, smiling to herself.

“Love ya, punk,” then the line cut off and she was left alone in the silent house with a dial tone. She hung up the phone and returned to her room.

In the drawer under her favorite one, there was another stack of blank papers. She pulled one out with a pencil.

For a moment, she contemplated writing all the stuff she’d thought but didn’t say.

It would be much easier to just tell him what was really happening around here on paper. That way she wouldn’t have to hear the surprise or disappointment in his voice when he found out what she’d been doing for revenge. The pencil hit the paper, and she started to write.

By the time she signed her name in large cursive letters at the bottom—none of it ended up on the page.

seventeen

nathan

“You’re late. Again.”

Nathan was starting to notice a pattern with this girl. To him, five minutes was only a tiny bit late. To Tully, two minutes was a disgrace. Right now he was four minutes late, and she gave him a look that could cut him as she climbed into the seat next to him.

And that was another thing he noticed—she seemed determined to never smile at him anymore. He saw her smile a little at her friend Stephanie, and he watched her grin and even laugh when she was alone and drunk with him in his room. Yet, when it might actually matter, she never smiled—unless it was fake.

“Good morning to you too, angel.”

She scrunched up her face in disgust and snapped him a dirty glare from the corner of her eye. “Don’t call me that when we’re alone.”

“Not a morning person, I see.”

“Let’s just go.” she slouched back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “We still have to pick up Stephanie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Resting his hand on the shoulder of Tully’s seat, he turned to back out of the driveway.

“Drive straight down Cornwallis from here, I’ll tell you where to go.”

He nodded, and shifted into drive, heading the way she told him to. For a minute, the car was silent, and Nathan tried to pretend like it wasn’t awkward for him. Tully seemed fine with it, staring out the window and not paying him any attention. But for him, he couldn’t stand it so he turned on his stereo, sounds of Madonna belting through the speakers.

The music snapped Tully out of it and she stopped staring out the window. “Have you been studying?”

He leaned one arm against his closed window and kept the other on the wheel. “I have a physics quiz on Monday, so yes.”

“What about your other subjects?”

His lips snapped together, and in the corner of his eye, Tully watched him. His silence was the answer. Tully sighed and reached backward behind his seat.

“What are you doing?” He tried to see what she was doing, but it was difficult when he was supposed to be keeping his eyes on the road. All he got was an eyeful of her high-waisted jeans and turtleneck sweater. There was some rummaging, the sound of a zipper. “Whoa, whoa. Are you going through my stuff?”

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