Page 26 of Loving the Liar

Luke is in Stoneview, staying with my mom, but I don’t know what they’re doing regarding the Circle. My brother barely picks up my calls. I’m being left out of everything, back at SFU, and dealing with the constant weight of people talking about the parties my dad hosted.

How do you remain Miss Popular when your world is crumbling? People have found something they can’t relate to anymore. Something they can hate me for. And if not me, my family.

I’m walking through the long cafeteria, weaving between the tables to make my way to my friends, when someone pulls at the shirt of my uniform.

I turn around, dying to scream at her not to touch me. Haven’t people ever learned of personal space? Instead of doing what I want, I offer a welcoming smile.

I don’t know her, but when the whole college knows you, it doesn’t matter.

“You don’t know me, my name’s Cassie. I write for the Silver Students Post. The campus newspaper.”

“Right,” I say sweetly. “Cassie! You wrote an article about the dangers of fraternity parties. I thought it had amazing insight.”

Thank God I sometimes check the campus newspaper.

Unimpressed by my memory, she nods once sternly and continues. “I wanted to talk to you, ask what you have to say about your dad?”

I can only blink at her. “I’m sorry?”

“Your family house is a brothel. Don’t you have something to say about that? Did you know?”

How am I supposed to respond to that? Did I know? Yes. Am I going to say that to anyone? Absolutely not. I might as well cut the tree to make the stake they would burn me at. Who would hear me when I say I didn’t have a choice in it? That if I never went to the police and ruined people’s lives, it was to protect my own.

I look around, making sure no one is listening.

“Are you…” I hold myself taller, attempting to keep my pride intact, or at least pretend to. “Are you writing an article about my family?”

As I ask this, a shadow behind her catches my attention. Chris is walking from the entrance of the cafeteria and toward us, a scowl on his face. The same kind he wears when I’m upset and he’s about to fix it, no matter how he has to.

His presence only makes me want to crawl into the safe space of his arms. I want to hide and let him handle it. Pretending to be strong is draining, and the beginning of this year is already wearing me out. What I would give to just rest and reset.

Catching my gaze, Cassie turns around, then back at me. “That’s Chris Murray, isn’t it? Your ex? Did he come back for you? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

My gaze widens. “What? No…he?—”

“No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend? No, he’s not your ex? No, he didn’t come back for you? Could you be more specific?”

Feeling cornered, my eyes drop, and that’s when I notice the little mic she’s holding. The kind that connects to phones, like people use on social media.

“Are you recording our conversation?” Gasping, I take a step back, and I almost trip on the heels I’m wearing. “What’s wrong with you?”

Chris is right behind Cassie now. “Of course I came back for her. Why else?”

Cassie jumps. I don’t think she realized he was walking specifically to us.

“That’s not true,” I correct quickly. “She’s recording, you idiot,” I snap at him.

“Then let the record show Ella Baker will be mine again by the end of the year. Because when you meet a woman like her, believe me, you don’t let her go twice.”

My lower stomach tightens in that delicious way only Chris is capable of making me feel. I’ll hate myself later for it. Right now, I’m too busy hating Cassie. Especially when she keeps the charade going.

“Your girlfriend is Megan McLean, is that right?” she asks Chris.

He shrugs, a charming smile spreading on his face. “You sound like you love to stir trouble, Cassie. You should run to Megan and tell her everything I said. Let her listen to it. Better yet, send the whole recording to Hermes.”

Eyes widening, I wonder if he’s become suicidal in the last two weeks.

“Maybe I will,” she answers, clearly testing him.

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