10. Liar
Chapter Ten
LIAR
A fter he left, I got my sleeping bag and my box of meds out of my bag and carried them into the cabin.
I sat on the bottom bunk that he’d claimed for my protection and taking a deep breath, stabbed my leg with the two-inch needle.
Could you blame me for wanting to put this off?
Kissing, even if it was as painful as the other times I’d been kissed, wouldn’t be as bad as this.
Really, I wanted to kiss him so I could gauge how physical it was possible to be with him.
I couldn’t know what I wanted if I didn’t know what was even possible.
It wouldn’t be possible for us to be together for a celibate six months, not for him.
No way his mother would have specified six months dating one woman if monogamy was natural for him.
If I wasn’t up to keeping him entertained, I’d be setting him up for failure from the outset, and I wasn’t going to do that.
It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Mostly him, because I was dying and this wouldn’t be ruining his life, his fortune, and whatever else his mother had threatened him with.
If I couldn’t handle physical contact with him, because it was just too painful, that was that.
Too bad he wanted to talk about the plan before we’d experimented with kissing.
I’d never kissed Dupre. Other boys, including Beastie, had taught me how bruise-able and breakable I was.
It wasn’t them, just me. I was a delicate flower too easily damaged in the storms of lust.
“Dad, there’s a funny thing. So… there’s this guy…
He’s proposed marriage to me twice, but I think it was just shock.
Anyway, the idea of marriage is kind of terrifying, but at the same time, to have that experience, intimacy, romance, physical contact, would be a fine send-off to the great beyond, don’t you think?
How’s the weather over there? How’s mom?
Is she still upset about the couch upholstery I picked?
” I looked around the little cabin, noticing how bare the raw wood was.
It could use some paintings. Not that we were living here for any amount of time.
“She thinks he’s hot? Yeah, he is. She thinks I should forget sense and let love find a way?
Of course she does. What do you think?” I listened and heard a bird outside make a sound like someone was strangling it to death.
“Nix hasn’t ever hurt me, not when he bumped into me, not when he touched me, and he’s been touching me a lot.
I tried to brace for every contact, because it should hurt, but it doesn’t.
He’s always so careful, like he really does handle delicate, sickly people all the time and knows how to do it right.
What’s that? A home care specialist is worth more than gold?
I should tell him about my health issues?
It’s only fair?” I looked down at my hands and made a frowny face.
“You know what’s not fair? You dying. You having the same disease as my mom so I got a double dose of death.
I’m not living like I’m dying. If that means lying, if that means putting someone else in a disappointing position, well, that’s life.
People give birth to you, leaving you with all the genetic crap and then they die.
That’s what we call a real disappointment.
” I took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling tired.
“I’m not bitter. I’m just tired of carrying so much weight all the time.
I want. He asked me what I want. I want to let someone else love me.
He only wants six months, I’ve only got six months, give or take, so why not take what I can?
” I shrugged and then pulled out a highlighter marker and drew a smiley face on my hand.
I wasn’t frowning my way through what was left of my life.
How long could I conceal my illness from Nix?
No idea, but I expected to go suddenly now that I stopped treatments. And that was okay.
I probably should open up to him about my medical conditions, but I wouldn’t.
Even if it didn’t change anything for him, it would change things for me.
I didn’t want to be the lump of misery rolled in a blanket of self-pity that never got out of bed.
It was easier to be happy for real when you jump-started it with an act.
And seeing Nix, the awfully pretty man with the terribly sexy smile made me feel good.
I’d started pretending to be happy for my dad, because it killed him when I was in pain.
Sometimes he couldn’t take it, had to leave and self-medicate if I was really suffering.
So, I pretended not to hurt. Pretending, or lying, came easily to me.
Beastie was the only person psychotic enough that my pain didn’t bother him.
When he figured out that I was going to a clinic instead of a boarding school in Switzerland, he treated me pretty much the same, except that he brought me my pills when I asked for them.
Nix might work with sick people, but he also had empathy that Beastie lacked.
So, maybe I’d give him six months, my last six months, and maybe I’d take as many experiences from him as I could hold.
Maybe that’s what I wanted. Maybe that’s what I needed.
I took a handful of pills and downed them with a big swig of saltwater, to help my veins contract.
Mm. Got to love saltwater. Okay. That was the plan then.
No guilt for fulfilling Nix’s necessary girlfriend as the liar I was.
He’d asked me, and I wasn’t lying about how psychotic Michael was.
I’d use Nix to forget all that terrible French poetry that I’d accidentally glanced at.
I hated that language sometimes. All the time.
If only I didn’t know it, but languages came easily, and I’d spent years in Switzerland.
I sighed deeply and flopped down on the bottom bunk, falling asleep almost immediately, because I was an old lady in disguise.
I woke up when Nix pressed soft lips to my forehead in the gentlest kiss possible.
I froze and analyzed the situation while he looked down at me with the most sultry look imaginable.
No pain. Not a drop, actually it had felt kind of tickling and nice. Weird.
“I caught five beautiful trout that are going to be so happy in your belly.” He wiggled his eyebrows and the words didn’t go with that hot look, although his blue eyes were shining while he smelled like the woods, pine and wind.
He really was enjoying himself in the middle of nowhere without a phone, and that kiss had been actually pleasant.
“And then the kissing,” I said with a nod, because I wasn’t going to pretend to be with him if I couldn’t give him what he needed to fulfil the deal. I was a liar, but I wasn’t a psychopath. I sat up and slid off the bed, pulling on my sneakers then pulled him out of the cabin.
He let me tug him along, laughing. “And then the kissing,” he agreed. “Also, the plan. Have you been thinking about what you want?”
I nodded, trying to look very serious, but I had a smiley face on my hand, so that made it difficult. “I think I want to find out if we have good chemistry before I commit to six months.”
His brows rose and he looked almost shocked. “You want to test me out first? Now I’m a car?”
“Come on. Six months is a long time even for an ancient figure such as yourself. For me, it’d be like a decade in Quentin if there was no fizz between us.”
His lips twitched as he studied me, bright blue eyes looking calculating for some reason. “You’re terrified of kissing, but I’m supposed to make you like it well enough to risk ten years in San Quentin? I imagine that’s what you’re talking about.”
“No San. Quentin was the name of my fifth grade fling. Guy couldn’t kiss at all, but I was his girlfriend for the status.”
“Right. I guess you wouldn’t be with me for that, since I’m just a three-job college guy.”
I grinned at him. Christina had known dating him would give her status before she even knew he was the son of a senator.
I patted his pectoral, then paused as I really noted its firmness and impressive size.
“Are you surgically enhanced? Not that it’s any of my business, but talk about perfect breasts. ”
He flashed his teeth in a smile that was almost dangerous as he brushed my hair away and glanced down at my shirt then raised a brow as he met my eyes. “Were we talking about perfect breasts? I wasn’t aware.”
“I was thinking about Christina and her being so eager to climb your status.” I wiggled my brows at him then grinned when he pulled back looking shocked.
“Why Kitten, you’re being awfully flirty for a virgin. You’d better not distract me while I’m working.”
While he cleaned the fish, he talked about what he was doing, how you had to do it this way to get it right, and then wrapping the fish in clay to bake in the fire, and then how to build a fire, he just kept on a long stream of how-to, like this was a camping podcast, or he was initiating someone new.
There was never a hint of flirtation or innuendo.
It was almost like he was talking to keep from thinking.
“You’d make a good dad,” I said when he paused between topics.
He looked up at me with terror in his eyes.