Page 7 of Lies and Other Drugs

Nathaniel tilted his head to the side, and more women stepped up with their bids. I felt his gaze lock on mine, his gaze full of curiosity and heat.

"Nine thousand!" I yelled, keeping in line with everyone else. Around me, the room started to go quiet as people realized who was bidding. I held my smile firmly in place, unwilling to give in to the gossip that was filtering in around me.

"That's William’s sister," someone whispered from behind.

There was a particularly persistent woman in the front. She was older than the rest. With dark blond hair and wrinkles hidden beneath plastic surgery, she scowled every time I bid. I wondered who she was and why she was bidding on him.

When she yelled ten thousand, the entire room erupted in applause, but I wasn't through yet. I'd been needing an excuse to drain my account of the rest of Liam Carlisle's money. I wanted nothing attaching myself to the man that sent my brother away to his death, so what better use than a bullshit charity honoring my brother's memory at the school he despised?

"Twenty thousand!" I yelled. A hush went over the crowd, and everyone stared at me as I walked toward the stage. I knew that the woman was done by the way her arms crossed over her chest as her face slumped into a deep scowl. Bidding any more would look desperate. Even though most of these women wouldn’t blink at the price tag, there was a certain balance to this sort of charity. You couldn’t look too eager or you’d risk looking pathetic. Her eyes were like daggers on my skin, but I didn't pay her any attention. I only had one purpose for this evening, and it was to make Nathaniel as uncomfortable as possible. He'd already shown that he had the tendency to feel guilt, and I knew that he hated this auction as much as my brother did.

All you could hear were my heels on the wooden steps leading up to the stage, and the auctioneer gave me a strange look as I walked up to the mic. None of the other girls had given a speech, but I was feeling emboldened. William was my brother, after all. And if they were going to throw an entire party in his honor, then why not let his twin sister give a few words?

"Thank you all for being here tonight," I said. My voice was poised, but there was an edge in my tone that I hoped resonated with the crowd. I forced a smile, glaring at everyone while I paused between statements.

"My brother once told me that he hated these auctions. He said it made him feel cheap. I think he wanted to belong more than he wanted to do what was right. So thank you for taking something he hated and turning it into a memorial fund in his name. I'm sure somewhere out there, he's rolling his eyes at all of you. I know I am."

Again, no one spoke. The crowd was too shocked at my words and confused by my presence. A few whispers started to erupt through the crowd, but it wasn't polite to put down a grieving woman. No one wanted to be the first to cry out that I was wrong. I had grief and insanity on my side. People didn’t want to be rude. They cared too much about looking bad to shame me publicly, and I was using that to my advantage. They would do all their talking in whispers.

Spinning around, I gave Nathaniel a daring glare. Time seemed to slow as I made my way towards him. He gave me one of those cocky smiles that suggested he didn't think I was willing to follow through on my promise, but it was a practiced move, one that suggested he felt like he was supposed to dare me—supposed to act unaffected. Some might find that bizarre. I found him attractive, yes, but my motives ran much deeper than that. I knew that there were whispers about the cause of my brother's death, and what better way to bring those whispers into a flaming inferno of truth than by kissing Nathaniel on the lips in front of everyone? Blackwood University might have wanted to sweep my brother’s death under the rug, but I wanted to bring the rumors to life. Make his death interesting enough to gossip about.

Keeping my eyes on his, I stepped close enough so that tension mingled between us. My chest brushed against his as I took in a deep breath, and with a cocky smile I knew only showed the surface of what I felt, I looked up at him through my thick lashes. "You gonna kiss me?" I dared. Nathaniel Youngblood wasn't one to back down from a challenge, and I was the ultimate conquest. I might not know him well, but I knew that he was competitive. Most men born into privilege were.

Nathaniel Youngblood stared at me, taking in each of my features while dragging his eyes up and down my body. The crowd was deathly silent, as if uncertain about this strange turn of events. But they didn’t even know all of it. It almost made me smile to think of what they would say if they knew the truth. I could almost hear it now.What kind of sister would want to kiss the man responsible for her brother's death?

"I'm gonna kiss you," he said, mostly to himself. I didn't allow myself to internalize his expression, but I saw an uncertainty there that I wasn't expecting. He leaned forward, closing the space between us in an achingly slow way. Tentative. Fearful. He felt wrong but intriguing, all the same. Sometimes revenge wasn't apparent. Sometimes it was a bunch of little moments leading up to a big explosion of triumph.

When our lips connected, I felt nothing at first. He was attractive enough and everything a normal girl should want. But there was nothing except a chill in my bones and hatred for the man touching me.

And then his tongue brushed against my bottom lip, forcing me to swallow his lusty groans. He wrapped his hands around my throat as I crushed my body to his. Hot and wild repulsion flooded my heart, but my body craved more. I wrapped my arms around his neck, arching as his hands traveled down my bare back, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my creamy skin.

Our kisses became wet, and I realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks as we moved like crashing waves against one another. He then wrapped himself around me, dipping me lower as we kissed while twisting us to hide his tears from the crowd. I might've been nothing but a shell of the girl I once was, crumbling in his arms, but Nathaniel treated me like a treasure worthy of his touch. He kissed me without pretense, he kissed me like I was his last breath. He kissed me like I was the only person in the room.

His kiss felt like the goodbye he never got, and I suddenly realized who my brother was to him—what William meant to Nathaniel. With his tears soaking my face, I allowed myself to feel, to let my emotions pour out of me and wash us clean. I gave him the goodbye my brother denied. The farewell of a lover.

I didn’t need an answer. The clues all led to this. Nathaniel said that the person he wanted to kiss wasn’t here, and he was right.

The person he wanted to kiss was dead.

Chapter 5

Iwasn’t much of a runner.

William used to joke that if you saw me running, then you better damn well run, too. He was always the better runner out of the two of us. And this wasn't just a literal thing, either. I didn't run from my problems. I didn’t run from a challenge. I met everything head on, spat in my opponent’s face then screamed out a war cry in the tune of my people.

That's just who I was. Brave and stupid.

So why on earth I was running from Youngblood—literally running—was a mystery to me. I was running down the street, fleeing him like he was a plague while stupid little tears streamed down my cheeks. I was mad at him, mad that he called my bluff and poured out his grief into our kiss. I was mad that he made me question everything with his touch. I thought I was here to shake up his world, not the other way around. My phone was ringing in my clutch, and I stopped by a bar to answer it. Pressing my back against a cool brick building, I steadied my breath as Noah's voice came on the line.

"Octavia, I've been thinking..." was his slurred answer. I hit my head against the brick, begging the sharp pain to snap through my senses.

"Yeah?" I urged him to continue in a breathless sigh. I could focus on Noah. I could let his mess of a life distract me from mine.

"I'm not helping you. Not really. I don't help anyone these days," he said in a dark tone. I could hear him breathing into the receiver, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my emotions to get the fuck out of my head. Noah did this every now and then. He'd slip into his cycle of self-loathing and fish for compliments. I knew I was supposed to tell him that he was helping me, maybe a nicer woman would have. But I'm not the sort to tell someone what they wanted to hear.

"Stop with the pity party. It's not cute." I forced my tone to sound bored and even twirled a strawberry blond ringlet of hair around my finger to trick my body into feeling nonchalant.

"Damn, Octavia. Can't even let me feel sorry for myself? You're becoming quite the narcissist. Everything is always about you, isn't it?" His voice was teasing, and I forced out a laugh. This was another one of our games; he'd pretend to insult me back so we could act like we’re even. So many silly little games with my alcoholic therapist.

---