Page 20 of Lies and Other Drugs

Noah apparently didn’t like that I wasn’t looking at him. See? This was why I couldn’t do this. He wanted real and love and emotions. He wanted me to be as obsessed with him as he was with me. Bracing his hands on my hips, he gently pulled me off then maneuvered us so that he was on top of me, making it so that I had no choice but to look him in the eye.

“I wasn’t planning on broadcasting this,” Noah said before taking both my wrists and holding them over my head, pressing me into the mattress. “But if you want to make what we have less than what it really is, then fine. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

He slammed into me with intensity. I heard the slick sounds of skin sliding along wet skin on the phone line. I pictured Samuel rubbing one out while Noah held me. The noises coming from my throat were husky and uncontrollable. “Yes,” Samuel moaned, forcing an orgasm to break through my barriers and shatter around me.

Noah came next. Watching him come was hard. He didn't believe he deserved an ounce of pleasure. His orgasm was laced with remorse. And then I wanted to do things like hug him and tell him that he should live life to the fullest andownthat shit.

But it wasn’t fair to him.

“Octavia?” Samuel said as Noah collapsed beside me. “Come over.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Noah didn't complain when I left. I wasn't exactly sure what I was expecting, but a kiss on the cheek as I told him goodbye definitely wasn't something I thought he was capable of. And what was worse was that I wasn't sure how that made me feel. I wasn’t too prideful to admit that I wanted a little jealousy.

Samuel sent a car for me, an ostentatious thing that flattered and annoyed me. So I focused on how pretentious he was instead of how mad I was at Nathaniel. I decided last night that, until further notice, his name was Nathaniel. Young was a nickname for tortured men still in love with my brother. Nathaniel was just the name of an asshole who was too driven by his primal basic needs to think.

I was looking forward to running into him, even hoping that Samuel and I would have a chance to rough up his bedroom once more while Nathaniel was home. But when I opened the door and saw Samuel sitting in his living room, the first thing he told me was, "He's not here. He never came home last night." It was like he knew my eyes immediately sought out Young—I mean Nathaniel or Blood or Asshole. Samuel stood and made his way over to me, just about the same time that I realized I never showered this morning. I really was putting no effort into this relationship. Once again, if I were self-aware, I would probably scold myself for being self-destructive. Samuel and I had a carnal attraction to one another; it was too dangerous to try anything more.

"He probably went home with that old married woman last night," I said before running a hand through my hair.

"What did you just say?" Samuel asked. He placed both of his large hands on my shoulders, shaking me a bit until I looked him in the eye.

"Last night, I went up to Blackwood University to spray paint a picture of President Robinson being spit roasted by you and Nathaniel on the art building’s south facing wall," I said in a nonchalant tone while practically bouncing from giddy excitement on the inside. I watched Samuel's face for his expression. Shock. Amusement. Fear. Anger.

"And?" Samuel asked, skillfully avoiding what I did last night.

"And I caught him in the alley getting a handy from a woman with a giant rock on her ring finger. She was old enough to be my mother, and mean enough to be the devil," I said that last part with a little sass. I knew, of course, that she couldn't be the devil. I was the devil—and there was only room for one of us in hell, right?

"Fuck. Did you say anything?" Samuel let go of my shoulders and started pacing in his living room. And for the first time since last night, I started to wonder if there was more to this woman than just the wrinkles on her hands and the frown on her face. Oh, and the fact that she was fucking Nathaniel.

"Nothing more than my usual. I said hey, nice seeing you with a married woman. See you at home!" I explained with a clap. I made my way over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, frowning when I saw nothing but orange juice and jelly.

"Shit. This is bad. You didn’t mention how you knew him, did you?" Samuel was freaking out. It was almost like he had the same sort of obsessive personality as I do. He was analyzing my conversation and trying to do damage control. Such the good little lawyer.

"I can't remember. I don't understand what the big deal is," I said before pulling the orange juice from the fridge and pouring myself a glass.

Samuel picked up his phone, ignoring me to send a text. I assumed that the message was for Nathaniel and decided to turn off my nonchalant personality and turn on the obsessive parts of me. The personality determined to find answers. If this woman had anything to do with William’s death, I was going to know it.

"Look, this lady? She's not someone you want to get mixed up with, okay?" I squinted my eyes at Samuel, looking him up and down. Nathaniel was the one with his dick in her hand, so why washeso afraid?

"What did she do to you?" I asked

Samuel thrust his hands through his hair before plopping down on the couch. He stared at the tile floor for a while. “You always stare off into the distance when you’re trying to figure out how to lie to me,” I mused. “You get this faraway look on your face, like you’re trying to decide what version of your lie is closest to the truth,” I said.

“I don’t lie to you, Octavia,” he whispered. We then sat in silence for a moment. I let him regurgitate his words. "Nathaniel and I have been friends for a long time, you know. Our parents were in the same circles, we attended the same private schools, went to the same vacations. So when we went to college, it was just another stepping stone in our friendship."

I made my way over to the couch and sat down beside him, I was not one to act on impulse or what I felt obligated to do. I thought the world had enough expectations on people, so giving into guilt and politeness was a waste of time. However, I found myself grabbing Samuel's hand to offer him what little comfort I could, regardless. It was an empty, half-hearted gesture, but out of the norm for me nevertheless.

"My dad…has always been extremely strict. And I wasn't doing so well my first semester here. Nathaniel helped me out, he did some papers for me. But it wasn't enough, I was going to flunk out. Failure has never been an option for me, Octavia. Never."

I didn't consider myself a particularly intuitive individual, but despite the way he belittled his father’s mean personality, I knew that Samuel had a really fucked up relationship with his father. His hand that I was holding was trembling, and he couldn't even look at me as he spoke. Those were the signs of someone who had fear. And even though I couldn't feel the emotion, I was able to recognize it.

"I had this test. A final exam. Nathaniel got a job working for one of the professors in that department. He went in late one night and stole the test for me, but he got caught," Samuel croaked out. "He's always been my best friend, you know? Always going above and beyond to take care of me—to take care of everyone. Unfortunately, the woman that caught him was the woman you saw last night."

"Are you telling me Young is fucking her to save both of your asses?" I asked. How long had this been going on?

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