Page 48 of Lies Like Love

I’ve spent years denying what lies beneath the mask that is my life, and it didn’t start when Jude’s father married my mom. It was long before that. I was born into a world of gold coated lies. Strings my parents pulled, then my grandparents.

I was a puppet, and they used me.

Jude saw it before I did. He handed me the scissors to cut myself free, and promised I’d feel better once I did. Except, instead of standing there to catch me, he disappeared.

Turning off the shower, I soak in the silence. Drips of water splatter from the faucet as it empties. Steam clouds the air, and I breathe so deep I wonder if it can baptize me.

If this moment could take away my sins, would I want it to if it meant losing Jude?

I’d rather drown in their holy water and suffer with him than be pure. A dark realization I’ve buried for years.

The bathroom is quiet as I step out of the shower, and I wonder if Jude finds it odd how long I’ve been in here. I don’t care. I don’t hurry. I take my time drying myself off, running my fingers through my long red hair.

With no makeup, my freckles are prominent on my cheeks and chest. A pattern Jude used to say revealed the secrets of the stars. If only it didn’t take wading through darkness to reach them.

I slip into Jude’s T-shirt, and I’m swimming in it. I’m not sure if he realizes what he handed me, but I can’t help but trace my fingers over the logo, remembering the one and only concert he and I ever went to together.

He snuck me out of the house in the middle of the night. Said it was for my own good to get into some trouble. He swore if I never experienced anything then life wasn’t worth living.

Maybe he was right.

I open the cabinet under the sink, looking for a hairbrush, and find a box of condoms instead. I’m not allowed to feel jealous over things I can’t have, but it doesn’t stop my heart from tightening in my chest at the reminder of all the things he must have done in the years since I’ve seen him.

Things I once fantasized about no matter how wrong it was.

I shut the cabinet, and run my fingers through my wet hair again, settling on leaving it messy because I can’t face whatever this unwanted feeling is that stirs with the idea of Jude sleeping with other women.

He’s not mine. They’re allowed to have him.

Taking a deep breath, I finally open the bathroom door, knowing I’m going to have to face what happened tonight whether I want to or not. He’s probably upset I was wandering downtown in the middle of the night.

It’s his fault when he’s been less than welcoming at the shop. Almost as if my presence is insignificant, when he’s the universe wrapping around me.

But tonight, he was the one at my side as if I’d manifested him. Saving me when something terrible could have happened.

Hating him is easier when he isn’t pretending to be a knight in shining armor, and now my emotions are all blended up. When he stabbed that man in the alley for me, I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I did.

He protected me. Teetering on the line between my hero and my villain.

Is it wrong to want both sides of him?

I step out of the bathroom and met with his empty room. It’s the perfect opportunity to slip into my dress and leave. There’s a shower running down the hall, and I could be gone before he’s finished.

Instead, I find myself climbing into his bed and telling myself it’s for comfort. Innocent, like it was back then.

It’s all lies.

I sink between his sheets, and they smell like laundry detergent and him. Breathing them both in, I’m overwhelmed with the scent that used to rock my mind to sleep at night. Comfort capable of making me lose all good sense.

The shower turns off down the hall and the walls are thin enough for me to hear the shower curtain grate against the metal bar. Cabinets and doors clatter with whatever he’s doing, and my heart races.

Something slams shut, and then feet are padding down the hallway.

We’ve shared a bed many times. But this feels different. Itisdifferent, and I’m not sure what he’s going to make of me lying here.

I should have left.

Jude turns the corner and freezes in the doorway when he sees me in his bed. His hair is wet and haphazardly going in all directions. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of dark sweatpants that hang low on his waist. The dim hallway light overhead draws out every cut of muscle in his chest and abs.

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