Page 114 of Loving the Liar

“I don’t care. Go home and ignore that text.”

I lift a hand to my chest, fingernails digging into my skin. Always observant, he automatically takes hold of my wrist and brings my hand back down.

“Don’t scratch. It’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay. You’re ill and you can’t go. I’ll make sure they know that.”

I blink at the phone, hardly hearing his words. “Who is Prometheus?”

He pauses when my eyes dart up. Looking to the end of the aisle of books, then back at me, he says, “Megan’s dad.”

I love you

In a perfect world, my love for you would be easy.

At least in this world, it’s worth it.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ella

Say Don’t Go - Taylor Swift

Ireadjust myself in bed, trying to get comfortable under the covers. The rain batters at my window, heavy cords blurring the forest by our house. Alex went to Xi’s, and Peach got a call from her dads to go home for the night. It’s not so bad since I can’t hold a conversation with this horrible headache, and I’m still trying to finish that essay.

With my laptop on my lap, my heavy eyes read over the few words I’ve written, but I can’t focus. And it’s not just because I feel like death. Something is crawling inside my stomach. An anxiety that makes me check my phone every two minutes to see if I have a text from the Circle. It’s almost 8:30 p.m., and I don’t know what to do.

I’m not meant to have a choice. If a Shadow calls, I have to present myself at the temple. And they’re going to be sending a car. It’s not something I can avoid, is it?

Swallowing the fear, I close my laptop and decide to accept the truth. I initiated into this society. I became an Aphrodite. The consequences come with what I had to do to keep Mom and Luke safe. Throwing the covers to the side, I force myself to go to my closet and pick a comfortable black dress. I wear simple underwear too. I don’t want Megan’s dad to think I made an effort to be pretty for him.

Prometheus. I wonder what his real name is. I had never heard of this man before, and I have no idea when he became a member of the Circle. All I know is he wants to see me tonight, and I have no choice but to go.

When I check myself in the mirror, my blue eyes are shining. Not from excitement, but rather the kind of unshed tears of someone with a fever. And that’s exactly how I feel and look. My eye bags are prominent, and I barely have the energy to lift my arm as I brush my hair. There’s no amount of makeup that will cover the defeated look of my dull skin. So I don’t even try. The last thing my eyes stay stuck on is the Aphrodite necklace I wear. That small seashell that means Prometheus gets to call me to the temple.

I look out of the landing window before I go down. It’s 8:29 p.m. and there’s no car, but I’m sure they’ll be right on time. So, I walk down the stairs with a dejected sigh and a renewed fear that makes my spine feel like a steel rod. Is this really my life?

The walk to the door feels surreal, like I’m walking on cotton and the rest of the house is zooming around me. I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m dissociating. When I open my front door, I look up at the dark gray clouds in the night sky, stopping the moon from shining through. But I’ve barely stepped one foot outside when a shadow comes from around the corner, pushing me back in and slamming the door. The shock brings me back to reality, and I’m about to scream, when a hand slams against my mouth, pressing me into the wall.

“Didn’t I tell you not to go?” he scolds in a hissed whisper.

Chris’s voice slows down my heartbeat, my body recognizing I’m not in real danger. I try to shake my head to be able to answer, but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you think I’m going to let Gabriel McLean put his hands on you? Don’t be naïve.”

I wait for his grip to relax, but it doesn’t. Only a few seconds later, there’s the sound of steps thudding on wet ground and a knock on the door. Chris brings his finger to his lips, telling me to stay quiet. It’s not like there’s much I can do anyway. I keep my eyes on his, observing the drops of rain dripping from the strands of caramel hair on his forehead. His lashes look longer when wet, bringing a new softness to his features. There isn’t an iota of evil on his handsome face. It’s probably what’s made it so easy to keep up the appearance of Mr. Perfect Gentleman. Everything in him screams kindness. And even with the knowledge of who he really is, I find myself getting lost in his eyes.

I jolt when there’s another knock on the door. We don’t move, stuck in the darkness, no lights on, in a limbo of my warm body against his cold one. His wet clothes against my skin tell me he’s been waiting outside my house for a long time, checking what I would do. He was ready to catch me if I went, ready to stop me.

I just want to know if it’s out of jealousy or protection.

Or both.

My eyes widen when a dark voice outside calls my name.

“Ella Baker? Are you home?”

My breathing accelerates through my nose, body stiffening from fear. Only my chest rises and falls erratically, forcing my breasts to press against Chris’s soaked black button-down. He brings his free hand to my chest, caressing the lines of angry red skin from the hours I spent scratching it. Carefully grazing the pad of his thumb over them, he keeps my eyes captured in his whiskey ones.

“Ella, this is John from the Stoneview Community Foundation.”

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