Page 50 of Knot So Fast
"Why?" I ask, but before she can answer, another call is trying to come through. I look at the display and curse violently. "Fuck, it's them. It's my parents."
"Tell them you're with me," Wren instructs quickly. "I can make a whole AI simulation if need be, so just go with the flow and convince them."
She hangs up before I can thank her, leaving me alone in this gorgeous bathroom that's—of course—exactly what I would have designed for myself.
A freestanding tub sits beneath a window that offers the same spectacular view of the city, while the shower could easilyfit four people and features rainfall showerheads that look like they cost more than my rent.
I take a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
My makeup is ruined, my hair is a wet mess, and I'm standing in a Formula One champion's bathroom trying to figure out how to lie to my parents about where I'm spending the night. With the man I’m not supposed to say I’m with. Who I've apparently slept with but can't remember. Who kisses like the world is ending and owns a house straight out of my dreams.
The phone continues to ring insistently, my parents' contact photo smiling at me from the screen like an accusation. I know they're worried.
I know they're just trying to protect me.But I also know that I'm tired of being protected from my own life, tired of everyone else deciding what I can and can't handle.
Then again, I have to be smart about this if I want to win the long haul of this game of chess.
Another deep breath, and I swipe to answer the call.
"Time to face the music."
DANGEROUS WATERS
~AUREN~
"I'm taking a bath right now at Wren's place, or I would FaceTime," I say into the phone, trying to keep my voice steady and casual despite the fact that I'm standing in a strange bathroom wearing a soaking wet dress and lying through my teeth.
My mother's voice comes through sharp with worry and barely concealed irritation.
"It's taken you far too many times to answer, Auren. We were getting concerned."
I groan dramatically, injecting just the right amount of exasperation into my tone.
"Because you're not supposed to have your phone with you in the bath! Don't you recall that girl who electrocuted herself because she dropped her phone in the water? You know how clumsy I am—you should be worried for my wellbeing, not upset that I'm being safety-conscious."
There's a pause, and I can practically hear my parents exchanging one of their loaded looks through the phone connection. My father's voice takes over, his tone carrying thatparticular brand of paternal authority that used to make me cave instantly as a child.
"The staff informed us you weren't in your room when we came to check on you."
Shit. Of course they checked.
I should have known they wouldn't just take my word for it when I said I was going to bed with a headache. These are the same people who probably have private investigators on speed dial and consider surveillance a form of parental love.
"That's because Wren came over while you were talking to that Caspian dude," I explain, thinking quickly on my feet. "She offered me a ride to her place since she could tell I wasn't feeling great. You know how she is—always mothering me when I'm under the weather."
"How did Wren get to our estate?" My mother's question is perfectly reasonable and absolutely inconvenient.
But I'm ready for this one, thank god for Wren's habit of leaving her vehicles everywhere.
"With her bike. You can check the garage—it's there."
The silence that follows is loaded with the weight of them actually checking, and I have to physically stop myself from holding my breath. Wren's motorcycle is indeed in my parents' garage because she borrowed my car two weeks ago and left the bike as collateral, then kept "forgetting" to switch them back. It's the kind of happy accident that's about to save my ass.
"The staff confirms there is a motorcycle in the garage," my father says slowly, and I can hear the reluctance in his voice to admit that my story checks out.
"See? I told you," I say, allowing a note of hurt to creep into my voice. "Wren and Rory leave their vehicles at your place all the time when they're staying over. It's been happening for the last six months at least. I can't believe you're checking up on me like I'm some teenager breaking curfew."
"You're right," my mother admits with a sigh. "We've noticed their vehicles there frequently. We're just... concerned about you, darling. After everything that's happened."
