Page 39 of The Lies Always Told

“Don’t dismiss what we are, and don’t call me Augusto, please.”

“Should I call you my dirty little secret instead?” I ask. I know I’m playing it cool. I know I’m acting nonchalant, but he’s so tense, this is the only thing thatwill get him to relax. When his shoulders sag and he narrows his eyes, I know I’m breaking through those thick walls.

“Is that what I am to you? A dirty little secret?” He looks hurt, but he quickly masks it with indifference, gently raising an eyebrow. He’s asking me to be honest while he’s hiding behind his questions and his carefully chosen words.

“Is that all you want to be? Answer carefully, Gus.” Last time we talked, I did brush him off. I was taken aback by everything that happened in the Dominican. Too much, too soon, too fast. Damn it, Nellie. You should be telling him this, not yourself.

He rubs his face with one hand as he shakes it no. “I thought it was, but it’s not. I don’t know what I’m doing here, Nellie, but I would like to be more than just a dirty little secret to you. I want to see where this can take us.”

“And it took you a month to figure it out?” I ask. Maybe mean and bitchy is his kryptonite, because flirty and sexy just gets him to have sex with me. This Nellie, the spitfire, the won’t-hold-anything-back Nellie is getting him to tell me the truth.

“It took me a month to muster the courage to ask. I’m pretty sure I knew the night we danced two months ago. We can take it slow, but I would like to get to know you better.” He smiles softly, and it reaches his eyes. He smiles often, at his friends, at his family, at me, but they’re all different smiles. This one is sweet, tentative, and maybe even a little shy. It’s the first time all night that it dawned on me—he might be scared too.

“What about our families?” I ask, trying to gather as much information as I can. If he needs questions to answer, I’m happy to provide them.

“What about you?” His rebuttal comes quick as he sits up and places his hands on my ankles. “What doyouwant?”

I feel his question bouncing in the walls of my brain,hitting each side like the choices are playing ping pong in my head.

“I don’t know what I want,” I answer, barely a whisper, because I’m not even sure I myself believe that statement.

“I think you do know what you want, and you just got scared. I’m sorry you had to witness that, Nellie. I am. However…if you’re not willing to look past it, then this—” he points between us with urgency—“is doomed. My medical emergencies are part of who I am. I don’t show those parts to everyone, but you’re not just anyone. I’m not trying to scare you, but if we’re giving this a try, I need to know you’re all in. So, I ask you again: what doyouwant?”

I ponder his question. I know I want him, and I know I want more than his perfect body. My heart is aching to get to know him more. Before the incident on the boat, I felt heard, cherished, valued. I felt like he wanted to talk to me and truly listen, regardless of the topic. I don’t remember the last time I held a conversation other than with Bee and Victoria about anything not academic. Even my parents tend to revolve our conversations about my achievements. They don’t do it on purpose; they just treat me like I’m still the fifteen-year-old girl who measured herself by the awards and prizes she got. Gus made me feel like he just wanted to learn more about me, like he could care less about my academic achievements. I want more of that.

“I want you,” I whisper, but I don’t think he hears me, because he just sits quietly in the chair for what seems like too long, but it’s probably not long at all. He smirks and pulls me by my feet, dragging the chair across the space and closer to him.

“How do you want me? Be specific.” His smile is lopsided now, and his posture changes from semi-relaxed to attentive.

“Who’s asking for honesty now?” I ask.

“I’m done dancing around this. We either lay all our cards on the table now, or we can say goodbye and move on. Whatis it going to be, Trouble?” The damn nickname will be my undoing. My thumbs pick at my skin next to my nails while my eyes bounce between his. I try my darndest not to do it, knowing it will hurt my skin, but sometimes, I can’t help it. When emotions are out of control, I can control that, the pressure on my fingers and under my nails, the light pain, the outlet I need to act unbothered.

“I want all of you. I want to get to know you better too,” I reply, practicing what I preach. If I want honesty, I need to be honest too. He smiles softly back at me, leaning forward and dragging my legs even closer to him. Our chairs are touching at this point.

“Tell me more,” he says as he smiles wider this time with his eyes. The tiny flecks of honey in his dark eyes glimmer with excitement. His eyes are so dark, you really have to be close to notice them, or maybe they just glimmer when he’s happy. Either way, I’m glad I get to see them.

I drop my legs from his lap and stand. With our chairs so close, I have to stand with my legs wide open and his between them. He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I snort a laugh before I sit on his lap.

“I want your body,” I croon as I drag my hands from his hip, up his chest, to rest on his shoulders. “I want your time and your thoughts.” I continue the journey with my hands, caressing his neck and holding his face between my hands. He hisses at the contact, and I slide closer to him. From this angle, his face is lower than mine, and he’s looking at me through his dark, thick lashes. My breasts are right in front of his face, but he’s not looking anywhere but at my eyes, waiting for my next words.

I drag my thumb over his lower lip before adding, “I want your lips on mine and on every inch of my skin. I want to get to know them so well, I could recognize them in the dark. I want my body to know your lips and your hands as if they were my own, as if they’re an extension of me.” His eyesdarken, focused on my mouth, then back to my eyes, bouncing between them. They’re full of emotion, and I can tell some of it is lust, but there’s a hint of something more.

I lower my hands and let them rest over his chest as I whisper, “But above all, I want to get to know your heart, Gus.” He sucks in a breath, and when I smile at him, he does the same before quietly bringing his hands up my back, holding my face.

“I want to try and be all in,” I say finally, hoping they’re the last words I have to say tonight before he finally believes me.

“Promise?” he asks with comfort and sadness in his voice. I won’t break a promise, so when I reply, I know it’s not easy.

“Promise.”

He pulls my face closer and kisses me breathless.

“Are you done playing house yet?”Gus says in a playful tone. I groan as I look down and notice the soft, dark sheets currently wrapped around my body. That’s when it hits me. The auction, the closet, glasses of wine at Gus’ condo, and rounds and rounds of sex. Gus. Oh shit, Gus. I don’t move so I can continue to listen to the phone conversation.

The voice on the other end of his call replies to his question in annoyance, and it sounds just like Gus, but with a lighter accent. Manny, on Facetime? My head is resting on his chest, and if I don’t move, neither of them will notice me here, so I don’t. I don’t want them to stop talking. I would rather eavesdrop instead. My head is pounding, and I feel like I drank a bar dry while running a marathon. My thighs, my head, my back—hell, even my arms hurt.

“No, Gus. I’m not playing house. That’s not what I’m doing here. I’m on a trip with Cara, and I’ll be home in lessthan two weeks. I’ll be back to real life.” What the hell? With Cara? I jerk, and Gus’ hand goes straight to my hair. His abs harden under my touch, but he doesn’t stop talking to his brother.

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