Page 116 of Just a Little White Lie

By the time I get back, Dance-Mania will be over, and we both will have cooled off enough to have a calm conversation. Plus, I won’t have to be around to watch her lie and cover for Maverick.

We can just avoid any arguments until after this thing is done, then make up.

Yeah, that’ll work.

It’s probably the best solution for both of us.

LAUREN

Between an aching hip on my left side and a pounding face on my right, trying to find sleep is impossible. In the end, I get up and binge-watchBridgertonuntil I doze off somewhere in the early hours of the morning. No one gets up to check on me, and it’s the sound of Luke boiling the kettle that eventually pulls me from my slumber.

“You seen Jack?” I ask as soon as I walk into the kitchen, then instantly regret it. I don’t want to care about where Jack is, yet I ache for him.

I’d give my left kidney for one of his all-encompassing hugs right now.

We didn’t talk at all last night. After our big fight, he stayed in his room and I stayed in mine. The house was like a freaking icebox. No wonder I couldn’t sleep.

Why did I tell him I didn’t want him at Dance-Mania?

Regret is brutal.

That wounded look on his face.

Why didn’t I go to him last night?

Why’d we both have to be so stubborn over this whole thing?

Yet a small part of me wonders if I did make the right decision. Things will be so tense if he’s there, but it’ll be like missing a limb if he’s not!

Ugh! This is so confusing!

“He left for work before I got up. But wouldn’t you know—” Luke jerks still, his eyes bulging. “What happened to your face?”

I dip my head and shrug. “I fell over at school and landed funny.”

“Ouch. You okay to go in today?”

“Yep.” I have to speak to Maverick, but I can’t exactly tell my brother that.

He’ll want the story. I’m surprised Jack hasn’t given it to him already.

Thankfully Luke’s phone buzzes, distracting him from my angst.

“Take care at work today,” he murmurs, lightly brushing a kiss across my cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks.” I move past him and go to get ready.

I take my time with my makeup, slathering on as much concealer as I can. I eventually turn my bruise into what could be considered gray bags under my eyes from a lack of sleep. That’s kind of appropriate too. My eye is still bloodshot, but hopefully people will be so busy with the start of term that they won’t take the time to notice me.

I don’t feel much like eating, so I flag breakfast and head straight into school.

I’m at the dance studio an hour before the bell is due to ring and have to wait twenty minutes for Maverick to show. He walks in carrying a small box. I watch him approach me. The only sound is the squeak of his shoes on the floor, and it’s kind of disconcerting. He keeps glancing at my face, then away again, his jaw muscle clenching and unclenching as he makes the long trek to my desk.

He places the box down beside me, then steps back, planting his feet and obviously preparing himself for a thorough tongue-lashing.

“What’s this?” I keep my voice soft and rest my finger on the box lid.

With a shamed-face shrug, he murmurs, “An apology muffin. I made it for you last night.”

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