Page 18 of The Lies You Love
“He never deserved you, Auden. You are so much better than him.” Ramsey’s words are just words. If they were true, I wouldn’t feel like a failure—like nothing I ever do will be good enough, powerful enough, to make an impact or grant me the life I want.
“I think I’m going to head to bed super early,” I say. She’s sitting on the line that is crackling a little less than it was a minute ago. I walk to the window and look out to her apartment building. The breeze wafts the scent of Chinese food and crisp air. More reminders of my life with Walker. Why didn’t I choose an apartment that was near a bakery instead?
“Come over if you need anything,” Ramsey says.
I hang up after promising to call her in the morning. I don’t know what I need anymore, but I know what I want, and I know who I want to give it to me. I shower off the day and put on my nicest matching panty and bra set. I don’t own lingerie anymore because that was something Walker consistently gifted me and loved me in. At least, that’s what I thought. Whenever I tried on his lavish gifts for the first time, he’d say the same thing, “Wow, Auddie, you’re a first-rate babe. I mean really first-rate.” Now, I can’t even look at lace in a store without hearing the phrase said in his exuberant tone. I never understood why he spent so much time agonizing over what lingerie he wanted to purchase for me when he never really wanted to fuck me to begin with. That’s what I dwell on most of the time. The sex. The forced intimacy that seemed so real. It’s part of the reason I stopped attaching anything other than orgasms to sex after the breakup. If a man can fake loving me so easily, sex means absolutely nothing.
Tonight isn’t about Walker, though. No, even if he’s forcing me to go to these lengths.
The first time I had a one-night stand, I felt relieved when he ghosted me. No text after. He didn’t call to make sure I made it home okay or stop by my store the next week, even though it’s where we met. It solidified my need for sex with men in a detached state. That’s what I’m good at. My whole life, I dreamed of marrying the man of my dreams. I had the Barbie Dream House, and it always had a mother and a father madly in love. They had two little girls who dressed the same and a dog named Spazzy that loved to chew high heels. My dumb little kid dream gave me unrealistic expectations of what life should be like. My parents raised me to be independent. Women can make their own money and have a family, my mother always said. She was also the kind of woman who did every pyramid scheme under the sun, trying to make her millions while still taking care of me and the house. She never made it to the top, but my dad was always proud of her. Their picture-perfect marriage never made things easier with my expectations. I went to the same college my parents went to, except my experience was anything but similar. I rushed the same sorority as my mom, took all the right classes, had the right friends. Sometimes even when you have everything, bad still seeps into the cracks.
I was walking home from a frat party on a Saturday night like I did most weekend nights. My dorm was one street over and two blocks south. It’s a well-lit, manicured street. Nothing bad ever happens in that part of town until it does. I was talking on the phone with Betty about the boy I had a crush on. He was the only reason I went to that particular party. His name was Karl. His dad owned a yacht and donated so much to the college that the professors treated him like a god. I didn’t care about any of that, I just liked the way he looked, but getting his attention wasn’t going to plan, in fact, it was my senior year, and I still wasn’t sure if he knew I existed. I remember exactly what I was saying to Betty when the guy came out of nowhere and whisked me into the tree line between the dorm buildings. Men don’t notice me. There wasn’t a drop of alcohol in my system and I still wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. He got most of my clothes off in between me blacking out from a fist to my face, and me trying and failing to claw his eyes out. My heart was pounding so loud that it was the sole reason I came to, struggling to see straight to figure out who my attacker was. Walker came out of nowhere and like a knight in shining armor. He saved me that night. We were inseparable every moment after. When I think back to that night and the court case that followed, I wonder if that’s why we both turned our back on men. At least for a while, anyway. My stomach knots like it does anytime I let myself go back to the dark places that involve my past.
A long, khaki trench coat hangs on my gilded coat rack I spray painted in college. I shrug it on over my navy thong and bra. I’m taking Ramsey’s advice, but it’s Walker’s new perfect life that drove me to take action. With wet hair, tears in my eyes, and a maddening ache between my legs, I drive toward Beck’s apartment. I park across the street in an overnight spot and round the old ornate building to the side blocked from street view. The fire escape ladders tower above me with ornate gargoyles cracking from weather and time. Climbing up, I try to assemble some kind of composure. I’m being irrational and emotional, and even if I’ll never trust someone the way I did before, I trust Beck with my body and that has to mean something.
Cursing when a swift gust of wind blows one side of my jacket open, exposing my bare ass to anyone watching, I continue climbing, my gym sneakers squeaking on the metal with each step up. Beck’s bedroom window is in view and I go faster, anticipating his warm embrace, even though I have no right to it. As I inch closer, I hear a man’s voice, loud and clear, and a smaller voice. His window is open, I can tell from my vantage point, and when I step through the barricade and onto the ledge near his window, I peek inside. This is the point when I should realize how fucking creepy I’m being, but instead, I’m reminded again of my bad decision-making. Beck is sitting on the edge of his bed with his arm wrapped around a woman.
I sniffle accidentally and both of them stand from the bed and turn. Beck positions himself in front of the woman, his eyes suspicious and dangerous until his eyes melt into mine.
With my hands on each side of the window, I try to stop my body from shaking.
“I’m sorry,” I say, licking my lips. “I shouldn’t have come.”
The woman peers from behind Beck, a splash of wounded animal glaring back at me.
“I’m stupid.” I repeat it over and over in my mind until I hear it and realize I’m saying it out loud, too.
“I’m sorry,” I say again before I turn to clutch the bar to begin my embarrassing descent.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Beck
“That’s her?” Ronan’s fiancée, Tess says.
She’s meeting Ronan here but wanted to ask me about the bachelor party. She was worried he cheated on her. I was reassuring her that while Ronan got so drunk he nearly needed his stomach pumped, he did not cheat on her. My friends are assholes sometimes, but they’re honest assholes. There was no part of the scavenger hunt that would require Ronan to do anything that would fuck up his relationship. What’s the point in the bachelor parties that do stuff like that? Prove who can be the worst friend? Fucking up a man’s future for a solitary night of debauchery? It never made sense to me. If a groom wants to fuck around, he shouldn’t be getting married. Point. Blank. Tess trusts Ronan, but some of our friends are questionable, so I can’t blame her.
I told her about Auden and how even though I’ve never wanted something like this before, I’m unsure how to do it now. I nod to answer her question and rush to the window.
“Get inside!” I hiss. Auden is halfway down the first ladder. “You really need to use the door like a normal person.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting. I’m so sorry. I should have called first. I just thought…” Her sentence hangs, and I can tell she’s upset. Really upset by the looks of her. Her hair is wet, and her face is red and blotchy.
I huff, squeezing myself out onto the escape and reaching down to her. “Why do you keep apologizing? You thought what?”
“For interrupting,” she replies, sniffling a few more times. “I just thought earlier that you wanted to hang out with me again.”
Now it makes sense. It boggles my mind how a woman so beautiful can have confidence so low. I need to fix that. Immediately.
I hike my free thumb over my shoulder. “That’s Tess. The bride. Ronan’s woman. I was just talking to her.” Then I think of what we must have looked like to Auden and cringe. “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to call you to see if you wanted to hang out.” She looks like she’s dissecting every word. “I promise there’s nothing going on with her.”
“Are you sure?” Her big eyes look wounded as she climbs back up. “We aren’t exclusive, we aren’t anything really, so I wouldn’t be upset. It’s perfectly fine. I’m fine. This is fine.”
“You’re trembling. Are you okay?” I ask, furrowing my brows. Seeing women upset isn’t my favorite thing. Seeing them scared? Well, that’s a full-blown trigger for me. “Did something happen?”
She shakes her head, and leaning in, she brings her head into my chest, and her shaking turns into actual crying when I fold my arms around her tiny frame. She smells delicious—and memories from last night flood in. Her body is warm, and it’s pressed against mine. I never want her to leave. That doesn’t negate the fact she’s upset as fuck. A quick glance behind me, and I see Ronan and Tess waving goodbye. They’ll leave out the front door like normal humans. Somehow, I prefer Auden’s mode of entering and exiting. It’s a little frightening, unexpected, but it’s also her. I learned in hostage negotiations, asking questions is always the best first step. I see no reason that wouldn’t apply here.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
