Page 44 of Under the Lies

This time I don’t bother listening. I’m about to turn away to find something stronger than champagne when I see Noah shove the man out of his way and into a nearby couple.

Noah’s eyes are on me, warning me not to take another step.

I take one teeny, tiny step and he closes the distance between us in what feels like a nanosecond. A giggle escapes as his hand curves along my waist.

“You smell.” I’m still giggling.

Noah’s facial expression doesn’t change, but I see something softer in his eyes. “And you’re drunk. How much did you drink? I wasn’t gone for that long.”

I hold up three fingers, or maybe I hold up four. Either way, it’s a lie because I tell him, “Five.”

“Five what?” he whispers, his hand moves up and down my body.

My body electrifies under his touch and Noah has to repeat the question. I blink. “Five glasses of champagne.”

A smirk curves his chiseled face. “Lightweight.”

Oh, I totally am, but it’s not polite of him to point that out. “Ruuude.” I smack his arm and if the unimpressed look he just gave me is any indication it doesn’t intimidate him.

“Where’s Thea?” I hear what he doesn’t ask, Why wasn’t she watching you?

Because I can take care of myself. I shrug, “I don’t know. She got pulled away by like drink three and then a woman insulted my shoes after she stepped on them so then I started drinking without her just to keep myself sane. I don’t like these people.”

Noah doesn’t tell me that I am one of these people. He knows I’m not. Not anymore.

He squeezes my waist. “Want to get out of here?”

I do, but I’m not ready to go home. Not yet. “Have we done enough?”

“Right now, I don’t really care,” he says as a flash goes off and we pull apart, seeing a man with a camera pointed at us.

“There,” he whispers. “We’ll be the biggest picture in the gossip column tomorrow.”

“Who was that man?” I ask when he walks away.

“A reporter for the newspaper.”

“So everyone will know about it.”

“Don’t sound so broken up about it. You’re the one that wanted to do more tonight.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I just don’t like attention on me.”

When he doesn’t answer, but I can feel Noah’s stare, I chance a glance up to find him studying me.

“What?” I ask when his stare becomes too much.

“You’re nothing like Harlow.”

At first, I bristle at her name. He says it with disdain, and another quality I don’t want to touch on. A quality I’m not a fan of.

And I don’t like that I don’t like it. A vicious circle.

But I don’t want to be compared to my sister. Not by anyone, but especially Noah. He’s the one person that knows her best. I was always compared to her growing up, held to a standard of how I shouldn’t be.

At a young age, I was pitted against my sister and it ultimately destroyed us to where we’re siblings in blood and nothing more. There’s no heart between us.

How could there be when I was meant to be her replacement?

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