Page 84 of The Lies We Steal

“A nobody who’s fucking the girl you’re drooling over.”

I gasp at his response, ready to deny that immediately, but Easton is already firing back. Shaking with disbelief, a switch flipping in his demeanor,

“Drooling? Please, she’s a new girl with a nice ass, but not even that is worth dealing with you or your deranged friends.”

I shouldn’t be surprised.

But it still stings.

Boys like Easton are a dime a dozen. The pretty ones who seem to have it all, who smooth talk their way right into your heart only to step on it when you don’t give them what they want.

I could at least respect Alistair and the fact he was upfront about what an asshole he was. He never tried to be something he wasn’t. What you saw is what you get, even if you didn’t like it.

“You probably weren’t even a good lay anyways.” He grumbles, looking down at me like I was dirt beneath his shoe.

“I thought we were friends.” I say a little loudly, causing the librarian to shh me, her eyes slitted and filled with aggravation. I glance around at the other students watching us, my cheeks warming up.

“Friends? You looked gullible and like an easy lay. You’re just a girl from the gutter.” He states, “There’s no Prince Charming for you. Welcome to your life, Briar, one-night stands and quick fucks, it’s what you were made for.”

I don’t get a second to even think of retaliating because Lyra has already jumped to my defense,

“Eat a dick. Take your bruised ego somewhere people give a shit.”

He leaves without another word, letting all of us settle into what just happened.

I spin around, facing Alistair, “And you,” I point my finger at him, “I’m doing this one thing for you. That’s it. We are not friends, we sure as hell are not fucking. You cannot come around pissing on me like you’re marking your territory.”

It seems I’m failing miserably at being serious from the looks of it. I swallow nervously as he slants his head, arching an eyebrow up at me as if to ask without words, what did you just say to me?

My pointer finger retracts, just as he curls his hand around my wrist. The lights in the library illuminate his eyes, showing me the chocolate swirls inside of them. I’d become so used to the midnight black shade, that the newfound color was a shock.

He inclines forward, his breath skating across my skin as he keeps our eyes locked together. Surprising me, he slides my middle finger into his mouth.

A gasp flying from my lips as I watch him. The way his warm mouth encases my finger and how his soft tongue swirls around the base makes my toes tingle. I bite down hard on the inside of my lip.

Leisurely, he removes his mouth from me. Dropping my wrist and swiping his thumb across his bottom lip,

“Don’t cover that up,” He looks down at the tattoo on my finger, “and I won’t have to go pissing anywhere.” The floor groans as she pushes his chair away from me, standing up to tower over me.

I try to ignore how attractive he is in the daylight. How the sun almost makes him seem normal. The way it reflects off his tanned skin and highlights the edges of his lean body.

Balling my hands into fist, before briefly looking down at where he’d licked. The makeup that was once there is gone, thanks to his saliva that had dissolved the product.Which was what he wanted to happen of course.

Fucking prick.

The sounds of his boots fall away on my ears, signaling his departure, but not before he turns around to face me, walking backwards as he speaks,

“And Briar,” He starts, “make sure you wear something pretty for me Friday.”

Alistair

Violin’s echo in the distance as I lean my back against the outside of the Rothchild District, where the Salvatore Dining Hall had been flipped from its normal rectangular tables and dull atmosphere, to something Gatsby might actually want to attend.

I hadn’t been inside yet, but I just knew dangling chandeliers and overpriced decorations awaited me. We only needed to make an entrance, just long enough for people to see that we had attended.

The sooner we could do that, the quicker we could get to the task at hand.

“She could have decided not to show up.”

---