Page 6 of The Lies Always Told

“So I can sleep like a baby,” I reply, relaxing on the couch and crossing one leg over the other. I smile at her and roll my eyes.

“Is there any research to back up that statement?”

“From big pharma? No. From the crunchy groups online? Sure.”

“Crunchy groups?”

“People choosing more natural ways to approach life.”

“Are you a big ole hippie, Gus?” Nellie asks, leaning forward, getting closer to me. I get a whiff of her soft almond scent, and it makes me want to lean in even closer to see if my guess on her perfume is right.

“More like I have some issues with taking medication for every little thing. I struggle with peaceful sleep, and the cherry juice helps.”

“You know what else helps a good sleep? A good fuck right before bed,” she adds with a soft but sensual tone that makes my head spin. I cock an eyebrow at her, and she smirks. “It’s true.”

She’s not wrong. I sleep better after having sex, but the women I sleep with usually don’t sleep over, and getting up towalk them to the door or convincing them to leave gets me wired again, destroying my chance to rest.

“Maybe…but it’s not always the case. I can count on the juice to always be there.”

“And you can’t count on women?”

“Next topic. How’s school going?” I ask, because I know she’s in college. I don’t want to focus on those other women. Nellie is some sort of genius. When she was younger, her parents were always talking about how challenging it was raising her, the struggle of matching her learning capacity without forcing her to grow up too quickly. I don’t know if it’s been different now that she’s older. I know some kids who show a lot of potential early at school slowly fizzle out as they grow into their capabilities or the school system makes them compliant instead of creative. They tend to make them fit in the box.

“Almost done. I graduate next month.”

“Congratulations, what are you majoring in?” I ask, and her smirk lets me know I’m in for a treat. Whatever her answer is, I know it will be the least expected. I can feel it.

“I already finished my bachelor’s in Psychology with a minor in clinical psych. I graduate from my master’s next month in counseling.” Holy shit.

“Aren’t you twenty one?” I ask, because how on Earth is this girl graduating that early from graduate school?

“I am, but I finished high school early, so I finished my bachelor’s early too. I didn’t want to waste any time, so here I am. I’m excited to be done, though, and put my skills to good use as a school counselor.”

“A school counselor, huh? You could make so much more money as a clinician, you know that, right?” I ask. It’s surprising to me that someone as smart as she is isn’t making a more financially-driven decision. Or maybe it’s just my finance brain making me think this way.

“Should I pick the career I will spend the rest of my lifedoing by how many zeros will be added to my direct deposit, or by what feeds my soul?” she replies, crossing her arms as a barrier between us.

“Not what I meant. Sorry, that’s what I do for a living, so sometimes the questions just come out like I would talk to clients.”

‘“You stick your nose in other people’s career decisions for a living?” Nellie snaps back.

“No, I help people make informed financial decisions, so discussing client’s choices in career sometimes comes up, especially for their children. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” I’m usually better at communicating, but damn, if she didn’t build that wall ten feet tall the minute I mentioned that.

She sits back, relaxing her shoulders, takes a sip of her drink, and closes her pretty eyes gently. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I snapped. I have heard theeducators don’t make moneyspiel for years now, especially when I graduated at eighteen with both a bachelor’s and a minor while being a Summa Cum Laude student… Yes, I should think about money, but right now, I want to think about impact. I want to think about what seed I want to plant in society. I’m twenty-one, I have my whole life to make money if I want. Right now, I want to make children’s lives better. Not just any children—middle school children specifically. Nobody likes working with them. Nobody has the patience to deal with them. And when you finally find someone who does, they get burnt out and leave their jobs. It’s a flaw in our education system—one I’m very aware of, but also one I want to help solve, at least for right now.”

Damn. What an answer. “Noted, Nellie. Damn that was deep.”

“Just how I like it.” She smiles devilishly as she sets her glass down. The fact that she can go from talking about how she wants to make a difference in the world, with an actionplan, to making my dick hard with five words is more than I can grasp. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Nellie?”

“Like I’m the woman of your dreams.” I look at her dumbfounded, because it would be stupid for me to even acknowledge that comment. We both know that couldn’t even be a thought, and definitely not after one interaction.

“I’m just kidding. Come dance with me. I love this song,” she says, standing and stretching out her hand for me to take. I hesitate because I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea. It also catches me by surprise that she noticed the song changing when I forgot where we were.

“Come on, Gus. I don’t bite. Just a dance.”

“‘Promise?”

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