Page 37 of Bitter Truths

“Hey, David,” I say with a sweet smile when he approaches me.

His eyes brighten, and he glances behind me at Aaron, who coughs and walks away but not before murmuring, “Bad girl.”

Which I studiously ignore, but for the tingle of shame I can’t suppress, but I shake it off, straightening my shoulders. Griffin deserves nothing but my rage.

Turning back to David, I pull my lips into a fake as fuck smile and press my hand to my roiling stomach.

This is it, the endgame. But it doesn’t feel like anything more than a really shitty thing to do. Damn.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Good. How was your summer?” I ask, but I’m not paying attention because every molecule of my being is tingling in awareness of Griffin not ten feet away.

From the corner of my eye, I see he’s still standing with his back to me. This won’t work if Griffin isn’t aware, but I can hardly march up to him without making David suspicious.

“It was awesome! Went to Cancun and got totally shit-faced.”

I smile weakly, wondering for the hundredth time when I might be able to let loose and act like a college student because David’s statement sends chills down my spine at the possible repercussions, and that’s just the beginning of my fears.

“That’s cool.”

“How ‘bout you?”

Well, where do I start? With my seven-day retreat at the not so posh psych ward? Or how about my bed? Sigh.

“It was good. You know, partying . . . at home.”

He nods as though what I said isn’t freakishly weird, which is good but makes me wonder about his powers of cognition. Whatever.

“Awesome! You’re looking good, Halsey,” he says, touching my arm.

We chat for a while, and I’m reminded of how pleasant he is, but my heart isn’t in it, and with each minute that passes, my stomach sinks closer to my toes.

When he pulls me away from the throng, I can’t refuse. I started this, and now I need to finish it.

With a last look at Griffin, as we pass down the hall, I mentally sigh because he’s still, to my frustration, facing away. Following David, I glance into my old room as we pass, only to stutter to a stop when I look over the freshly painted walls, new bedspread, and matching lamps.

I forgot about my paintings in the wake of Griffin’s betrayal, but now I wonder if they’re still in his room.

These are the same murals I painted on my bedroom wall, and I was surprised to find that Griffin had them cut down, sheetrock and all. He also had them professionally framed, no easy feat considering the medium and size.

My fingers tingle painfully, a pit forming in my gut, and suddenly I need to know if he still has them. I pull ahead of David down the hall, my heart pumping loudly in my ears as I push Griffin’s door open, but they’re not here.

Where did he put them? Are they gone for good? But why go to all the trouble only to dispose of them?

Unfortunately, I’ve given myself no room to ask. David pulls me from my thoughts when he turns me toward him and brushes my hair back from my face. The action makes me think of Griffin, but I push the memories away with a clenched fist, hoping the pain in my hand will erase the burn in my chest.

I look around the room once more, half hoping for an escape. My heart is pumping double-time as David smiles and tips his head forward. His lips touch mine, and they’re warm and soft, and with a panicked breath, I consider pushing him away.

What am I doing?

Frozen with indecision, I do nothing as he deepens the kiss, and absently I fight the terror ricocheting through me like a pinball. But slowly, I relax and note that with his gentle touch, I feel absolutely nothing. Not even when he pushes his tongue into my mouth. Still, I stand paralyzed, caught between the reality that my actions are pushing away the only boy I’ve ever loved and his treacherous part in an ugly game.

Of course, David does nothing for my libido. The only guy who’s ever made me feel is Griffin fucking Hathaway.

With a moan, David grabs my hips and pushes me toward the bed, and I’m feeling the first niggle of panic when Griffin says, behind us, “Am I interrupting?”

Breaking away quickly, I stare at the floor, my cheeks heating ten thousand degrees. Thank fuck, I didn’t have to push David away. That would have been seriously awkward.

---