Page 31 of One Lovely Lie

“Hey, come on now,” I joke, nudging his head and poking his cheek until he swats my hand away. “You’re bringing the mood down.”

He settles his gaze on me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. He then turns so he’s lying on his stomach, his hands on my lap as he speaks. “How do you do it?”

I furrow my brow. “Do what?”

“Be so okay with what they have planned for you? Just follow along with their wishes?”

“I don’t blindly do it,” I say, a bit irritated at what he’s implying. “I want to.”

“Bullshit,” he snorts, shaking his head at me like he knows better than I do. “You don’t want to spend your break filing and labeling all sorts of useless shit while our parents suck money from the pockets of those who need our services the most.”

“Christ, tell me how you really feel.”

“Our parents are leeches. Why would you want what they want?”

Okay, now I’m angry. What started as a curious question has now turned into something akin to an interrogation. I gently move him off my lap and stand up, clenching my hands against my sides. “I don’t see you doing anything to stop this either. You want your trust fund, don’t you? This is how it happens.”

“It’s just ridiculous that you can’t stand up to them and tell them what you really want,” he argues, scowling at me. “Think for yourself, Daniel.”

Oh, that’s it. I suddenly remember the fact that I’m still naked and am mortified. I quickly scramble to throw on my clothes as we stare daggers at each other. “Don’t project your bullshit on me. Just because my parents actually treat me like a person and give a shit about me, doesn’t mean you get to be a dick about it.”

Oh no. I shouldn’t have said that. I really shouldn’t have said that.

This is an area where Magnus is the most insecure. He’s grown up seeing me with my family just as I’ve seen him with his. I know the stark differences between how the Blacks and the Levingsons treat their children. While I grew up with warmth and praise and affection, Magnus grew up with cruelty and avoidance and neglect.

Magnus’s face contorts from that beautiful work of art to a thunderstorm. His eyes momentarily widen in shock before he pinches his eyebrows together and practically snarls at me. He jumps off the bed, mumbling under his breath as he slams his way past me to the door.

My heart stops. “Magnus—”

“Fuck you," he says as he starts to get dressed.

“Wait, Magnus. I didn’t mean that.”

“No, fuck you.”

“I’m just defensive of them. I didn’t mean to imply anything,” I say, grabbing on to his wrist to stop him. My heart is beating a million times a second. My palms are clammy. I can’t let him walk out of here like this. He has to forgive me. He has to. “Please.”

He shakes his head and rips his arm from my grasp. “I need some air.”

“Baby,” I plead. I’ve never called him that before and I’m hoping it’ll do something to keep him from leaving, but it does absolutely fuck all. “I…I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going back to my dorm,” he says, his voice flat, monotone, lifeless. “Don’t follow me.”

“No, wait!” I shout, planting myself in between him and the door. I grasp his face in my hands and bring his forehead down to mine. “Hey. Forever and ever, right? Cradle to grave?”

But he doesn’t respond. He gently moves me aside, leaves the room, and doesn’t look back.

I can’t believe that I’ve already fucked this up.

Chapter 9

Magnus

An entire day came and went and now it’s night.

I love the night. I always have. It’s the one time when everything sort of seems to still. There is no noise, there is no stress, and there is no worry. It’s the time when I can sleep to escape my problems, dream of a life I made on my own, and drift away forever.

But, right now, I hate the night.

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