Page 23 of Loving the Liar

But it’s hard to take Alex’s rugged boyfriend seriously while he holds a shaking bunny in one arm, his massive hand covering the animal’s large ears, as if to protect him from the loud party music.

My friend smiles beautifully at him, her eyes practically turning heart shaped. She jumps into a standing position, giggling to herself.

“Oh, baby. I missed you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles.

Xi leans forward, his lips pursing for a kiss, but she ignores him, grabbing her pet and giving it a smooch as she scratches its fur.

Yeah…she wasn’t talking to her boyfriend.

Xi narrows his eyes at her, his jaw ticking. Alex is already turning back to us when he grabs her by the back of the neck, twists her around, and presses his lips against hers in a deep kiss that makes Peach and I exchange a wide-eyed look. Holy shit…this is not PG.

“Forget to kiss me hello one more time,” he growls. “I’m dying to teach you a lesson about that.”

She mumbles an apology, cheeks turning an unimaginable shade of red. Scratching her throat, she brings back the topic to the animal in her arms.

“Why did you bring Jean-Paul Sartre? He’s scared of the noise, Xi.”

“Cupcake,” he huffs. “I tried to call you about a hundred times. He won’t eat. And if you come back tonight and see he didn’t touch his food, you’re going to throw a tantrum. I didn’t know what to do…so I brought him here.”

Sighing, her hazel eyes soften as she speaks to her beloved bunny. “You miss your mama, don’t you?” She looks at Peach and me again. “I have to go, girls. We’ve got parenting to do.”

“Kill me.” Peach puts two fingers in her mouth, pretending to puke. “You two are my worst nightmare.”

“You’re just jealous of our beautiful family,” Xi snorts.

“I bet you shit pink now that she’s taken over your life, Xi!” Peach shouts at their retreating backs.

I burst into a laugh as they disappear in the crowd, and as I watch them, I notice it. The Christopher Murray effect. A flock of men and women surround him as he slowly sips on a drink. He’s been back for a few days and is already winning hearts like he never left. A charming smile here, a gentle tap on the shoulder there. He nods, interested when people talk to him. A genuine frown breaks his brow when someone shares a deep story. That’s how he makes everyone feel. Welcome, at ease, safe. I know what it’s like because I fell for it too. The handsome face, the caring gestures. No one knows what truly hides behind the façade, and it almost makes me feel lonely.

Our eyes cross over a girl’s shoulder, and my heart swells when he smiles at me. The slightly chipped front tooth doesn’t fit his image, but it’s his imperfections that make him even more human. Relatable. Chris has a way of making someone feel exceptional. He looks at you across a room, a smile lifting his lips aimed in your direction, and suddenly everyone else disappears. He has no special talent and yet owns the gaze of an artist. Through his eyes, everyone can feel beautiful.

A flash catches my attention, snapping me from his gaze, and I finally see him. That guy taking pictures of us.

I focus my attention on him, double-checking I’m not making this up, and fury spikes through my veins as I realize his phone is quite literally pointed at my face and unmoving.

He’s filming.

“Motherfucker,” I bite out, shooting into a standing position.

Peach is being hit on by some random guy and is too drunk to notice me leaving. But the fucking paparazzi-wannabe sees me approaching and stops recording before turning around and slipping away.

I follow him through the mass of sweaty bodies dancing and drinking. I know he’s from here because he belongs in this crowd. Everyone is dressed like they were coming to some sort of Hollywood celebrities’ party tonight, but it’s just how we do things in SFU and that guy fits.

I don’t lose him, sticking a few steps behind until he reaches the backyard.

“Hey, asshole!” I call out. He continues to ignore me until he’s to the side of the house, between the Xi Ep exterior wall and the wall to the next house. It’s tight as an alley here, and he stops at the end, spinning around to face me.

“I didn’t catch anything interesting,” he says. “You can stop following me.”

“What’s your name? Were you looking for something to send to Hermes?” I take a step toward him, my high heels crunching the gravel. “Or maybe you’re Hermes, taking videos for your precious account.” Another step, and I point an accusing finger. “I swear if you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I will make your life so miserable at SFU, you’ll be a college drop-out before next week.”

I snatch his phone from him and throw it to the ground before stepping on it with my stiletto. A relief crashes over me at the destroyed screen.

“Shit, that’s totally something we can send to Hermes.” I whip around, finding another man behind me.

He’s filming me, and no doubt has been recording the whole scene. Including my threats.

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