Page 9 of Little Liar
I scared her?
I get to my feet and leave, heading to the bedroom. As soon as I open the door, Olivia sits up on her bed, rubbing her eyes. “Malachi?”
I’m sorry,I sign as I lower myself to the edge of her bed.I’m sorry,I sign again, this time more firmly as my fist rubs against my chest.
“Did Dad hurt you?”
I shake my head, but I don’t think she believes me. Dad hates me—I know he does. Sometimes he drags me to his office roughly for the most minuscule things, and he yells at me way more than he does Olivia, so I know he sees us differently.
I’m the son neither of them wanted but are stuck with. They already think the therapist needs to do more tests—I’m not ready for them yet apparently, whatever that means.
She tips her head, her hair falling in her face. It always smells like strawberries—soft, comforting.
“Do you want a hug?”
Nodding, I slip in beside Olivia. We wrap our arms around each other, keeping each other safe like we have done since we became brother and sister, and fall asleep.
4
Malachi - Aged 17
Olivia’s music is shit, and she’s giving me a fucking headache.
We’re out running next to the manor, along from the lake we’re heading to, and she keeps going in front of me and nearly tripping me up. I might kick her ankles and leave her in the dirt, but then I’ll feel bad and apologize, so I decide against it.
Her ridiculous pop music is playing in my ear, Olivia with the other earpiece, while she keeps up with my jogging pace. She’s fit. Being a cheerleader and exercising nearly as much as me means we can hang out more. I like to run—so does she.
The perfect sibling fit. And I get to spend more time with her.
Is that weird? I don’t care if it is. I’m always in a better mood when I’m around my little sister, like I can be the best version of myself. She doesn’t even try to force me to talk or act as though there’s something wrong with me, like my asshole friends.
I mean, they aren’t assholes, but they aren’tnotassholes.
Shaking my head to focus, my eyes flick to the side, and I try not to look at her chest as I sign,Dad’s teaching me how to drive later.
She laughs. “That’ll be a horrible experience. You should stick to just riding your bike. All he’s going to do is yell the entire time.”
Probably. He doesn’t have much patience, especially since I’ve been in more fights than I can count the last year—plus the fact he caught me smoking a joint out on my balcony.
He tolerates me now. They’ve raised me for the last nine years, so they can’t exactly toss me back into the system, and honestly, as much as I believe my dad hates me sometimes, I think he still cares about me enough to let me stick around.
We argue and fight a lot though, so maybe I’m delusional.
“Keep up or the Bluetooth will cut out,” Olivia calls out.
I blink and realize I’ve fallen behind, but I linger for a bit and watch her ass, mentally slapping myself because she would never speak to me again if she knew I was even looking at her that way. Plus if her connection cuts, then I can rid myself of fucking pop music by some girl group singing about breaking up with their ex and be saved from the earache.
I catch up anyway, and her music switches to something slow as we reach the lake—she’s bending over and catching her breath while I pull my cigarettes from my shorts and light one. She looks over her shoulder at me, still bending over and giving me a full view that I definitely shouldn’t be zoned into.
She frowns and straightens. “Why?”
I raise a questioning brow and hope to fucking God she didn’t catch her own brother checking her out.
“Smoking is bad for you, especially when you’re out running, Malachi.”
Hmm. I love when she says my name.
No. Shut the fuck up.
