Page 35 of The Truths We Burn

Happy Halloween to me.

The lights in the room start to flicker, the sound of the switch being toyed with echoing. I squint as I look at the door, confused as to who would be coming in here.

“You’ve been ignoring me, TG.”

I almost scream at the sound of his voice, a part of me thinking it was a figment of my needy imagination, until my eyes see him leaning on the doorframe.

Wasn’t sure when backwards flat bills and Thrasher t-shirts became something I was attracted to, but it’s happening. It’s less about the clothes and more about how he wears them.

Pieces of his hair flip out from underneath the cap, arms exposed and showing off his impressive veins that probably make nurses faint.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, standing up abruptly to make sure no one had seen him come inside the room. I’d almost forgotten about my costume until his eyes eat me up in my costume.

“Silas is out fucking your sister somewhere. I’ve got a few hours to kill before I meet up with Thatch and Alistair. I didn’t wanna miss your party. I’m sad I didn’t get an invitation.” He tilts his head, mocking me.

“You can’t be in here. We can’t be seen together,” I insist, hoping he gets the hint and makes this easy.

Leave, leave, leave, I silently beg.Leave before this gets worse.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I can’t help but watch the way his match rolls across his dark red lips.

“You know why, Rook. Listen.” I take the headdress off my head. “The other night I was upset and got really drunk. I said some things that—”

“Nah.” He pushes off the doorframe. “You’re not doing that.”

“Doing what? Telling you the truth? Isn’t that what you want? I can’t be seen with you—you have no idea the damage it will do. It’ll ruin everything.”

“You’re not going to sit there and pretend you didn’t come to me the other night, crying, broken, searching for help. Not your boyfriend, not your friend, not even your fucking sister—you came looking forme. You don’t get to pretend you didn’t promiseme all your truths. There is no putting the mask back on after I’ve already seen what’s underneath it.”

My heart is in my throat, clogging my airway with violent throbs. I know he’s right, but God, if Easton finds out—if his father finds out? All hell would break loose.

“That doesn’t matter. I know what I did! It was a onetime thing. If anyone found out—if Easton found out—it would not end well.”

He grins wide, like I’m daring him to test Easton. Something I’m sure he’d do in a heartbeat, just for fun. “You think I’m scared of your boat-shoe-wearing boy toy?”

“Not the point, Rook!”

“If it was a onetime thing, tell me why wouldn’t you let me burn the lake house down? Why’d you back out of it? Come on, TG. Tell me what you said before we left.”

Checkmate.

He’s got me. He knows the answer already. I’d told him, and I know he remembers. He’d looked at me like he would never forget it after I said it.

“I-I can’t remember. I was drunk.” My lying has always been impossible to see through, but it’s like everything I knew went out the window with him.

“No, you remember.” He walks closer to me, staring down at me, and picks up a few locks of my hair. “What was it? Something like, you couldn’t do it because it was ours now. It’s your confessional—that’s what you said right before you puked all over my shoes.”

Embarrassment heats my cheeks. Emotions I haven’t encountered in years bubble up when I’m around him, and I hate it because he knows it.

“You rehearse lines in the dark at parties. You’re not the dull, rich girl everyone thinks you are. I’ve already seen what’s underneath, Sage.”

And you’re the guy who believes he is evil. That he doesn’t deserve happiness, I think to myself but don’t say it out loud. He may not have said it out loud, but I see it on his face.

Frustrated and annoyed, I run a hand through my hair.“Just, shut the damn door at least,” I mumble, stepping to the side and closing the theatre room door, encasing us with dim lighting.

He makes himself at home, dropping down with a thud as he takes my original seat and picks up my script, thumbing through it.

“So what are you supposed to be dressed up as? Hugh Hefner’s wife?”

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