Page 14 of One Twisted Lie

“Right. Computer stuff.”

His fingers pause on the keyboard. Slowly, he closes his laptop and stares straight at me. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion and irritation. “Are you having a stroke?”

I chuckle, feeling my ears burn red. “What do you mean?”

“You’re being…” He waves his hands in the air and cringes. “Pleasant. It’s weird.”

I huff and my shoulders tense. Right. We don’t make small talk. “Can’t I make conversation?”

“No.”

Okay, this is not off to a good start. I suck in a sharp breath. I know what I have to do if I want this plan to work. Father did say to do whatever it took, so I have to swallow my pride.

It tastes like shit.

“Fine,” I say, trying to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head to the side and sits up a bit straighter, intrigued. “For what?”

“For being a dick to you. After the rave, I realized that I was acting childish.” I only partially lie. “Whatever feud we have isn’t worth ruining our senior year.”

He leans back in his seat and pushes those ridiculous glasses up his wrinkled nose. “You want a truce?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “I thought maybe we could at least try to get along?”

He takes a moment, rubbing his chin in concentration as the gears turn in his head. “I’m…suspicious.”

Well, that’s the reaction I was a hundred percent expecting. There’s absolutely no reason—out of the fucking blue—that I would suggest becoming friends. It’s just fucking weird. With our history, I’m not even sure that’s possible. We’re conditioned to pounce on each other with just one word.

“Okay,” I say with a nod, extending my hand to him. “Friends then?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Maybe acquaintances,” he replies, furrowing his brow as he gingerly shakes my hand. He licks his lips and smirks. “Is it because you want my cock?”

And we’re back tothat. Fuck, I knew he would bring it up. Memories of our time together, of the incredibly sloppy and powerful blowjob he gave me surface. My traitorous cock starts to swell, but I can’t let him know how his cockiness is affecting me. “Jesus, you’re so full of yourself. It’s not like your dick is magic.”

He chuckles. “You sure sucked it like it was.”

Whatever it takes.

Again, my pride takes a hit. If this is how he wants to play it, I have to go along with it. If he’s dead set on reminding me about our trysts, then that’s the route I need to go with. “Fine. Now that we’re friends, I can admit that I kind of…sort of…maybeliked it.”

His smirk widens as he spreads his leg, and I’m automatically drawn to the bulge hidden behind his sweatpants. Fuck, he’s hung. “Knew it.”

“I’ve spent eighteen years of my life thinking I’m straight. Sue me if I got a bit confused and freaked out about my sexuality,” I admit truthfully.

For some reason, my body has chosenhim. Out of all the men it could have been attracted to, my dick only perks up for my mortal enemy. It’s ridiculous and frustrating and so many other adjectives I can’t even begin to say. But that’s just the truth.

He hums to himself, and I can see the moment an idea springs into his mind. “We can work on that too.”

My breath hitches. “You want…you want to fuck around?”

“Why not?” He shrugs, completely cool and at ease, the opposite of me. “We’re barely friends.”

“What are you getting out of it?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll admit that I got curious too. I’ve never been with a guy, and I have to say it was hot.”

A sick satisfaction runs through me. So, heisaffected by me. The news that this lustful hatred is mutual does something to me. The possibilities are endless. We’re…acquaintances now, so the guilt and self-loathing I feel at letting him touch me disappear. We can do this. We can fuck around and discover new things about ourselves.

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