Page 13 of Spiteful Lies
I can’t believe I’ve been lucky so far. But when does my luck ever last? “I’m not going to tell you,” I reply, “Because you’ve probably already guessed who gave it to me. Maybe I’ll talk about something else, but only if you can prove that you can do what you claim.”
Rawlins’ lips thin as she glares at me—the one person dumb enough to challenge her. “Prove what?” she drawls.
I shift in my seat, and maybe I shouldn’t tell her, but someone has to do something. “Charlotte’s in trouble. You should talk to her. If you can help her, then I’ll know you’re not bluffing.”
“You’re making demands?” She scowls. “This hasn’t been resolved. You’re hanging by a thread, and you have the nerve to question me. Get out. Wait. I want you back here tomorrow with an answer. First thing before class. Let’s hope you learn how to repent between now and then.”
I grab for my bag blindly and quickly walk to the door, feeling her eyes burn into the back of my head.
“Astrid,” she calls out before I can get away. “Tell Charlotte to come see me.”
Chapter 11
Bryce
Astrid eyes me cautiously as we drive out of Rockingham in my new BMW, an early graduation gift from my mother. I’m tired of meeting up in the basement of the girls’ dorm, and the stacks are out of the question. My parents have a standing account at The Inn in Portsmouth. Midterms are over, and I plan to relax in a private room with Astrid.
“You’re very quiet,” I frown, trying to figure her out, “Are you tired or pissed off?”
No reply as I stop at a red light, and I glance over. She’s looking a little pale and needs this break too. It can’t be stress from the midterms, but it could be that asshole Leister. If he was standing in front of me, I’d take him out. I want Astrid to talk to me and really confide in me. The way she does with Wyatt.
“You have to promise me that you won’t tell.” Her eyes plead with me.
The light changes, and I have to put mine back on the road. “I swear I won’t tell. You know you can trust me by now, Astrid.”
“Howland’s cut off Charlotte. She has no money for tuition,” she replies softly, “It’s a secret, of course, and I can’t tell you every detail, but she needs help, but she doesn’t realize it yet.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Charlotte’s broke?” It can’t be right, and I pull over into the parking lot of a mini-mart. It’s impossible to imagine. “What happened?”
Astrid shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did.” She looks at me desperately. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I told Charlotte it would be our secret.” Astrid pauses. “She knows about Leister, too, but not all of it.”
I place my hand on Astrid’s knee. I hope it’s comforting and not misconstrued as a come-on. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
“I’m not sure,” she replies, “But I want her to talk to someone who can help her. I mean, I’m splitting my allowance with her. I have no problem with that. I only started getting an allowance this year, but Charlotte—she thinks budgeting is a trend. Bryce, I’m really worried about her.”
I pull Astrid into my arms. Her shoulders are trembling as if they can’t take on any more burdens. I hold her tight and tell her it will be all right. “Astrid, I’ll talk to Charlotte, but I won’t mention it. You know she talks to me. She’ll tell me on her own if I give her a chance.”
Astrid presses her lips to my cheek, and I’m surprised by how something so sweet can move me. I turn my head and capture her lips with my mouth. My nose fills with her scent—no perfume but plain soap. She moans as I kiss her as deeply as I can, hoping she can tell how much I’ve fallen for her. When I pull away, she gazes at my lips.
“We’re not too far.” I turn the ignition. “We’ll have dinner and relax for a night. We’ll only think about us.”
The Inn isn’t crowded this late in the year. The cold winds off the Atlantic keep the tourists away, but the locals fill the dining area and enjoy a roaring fire in the fireplace. The owner smiles broadly and welcomes us back, leading us to an insanely large suite with a huge bed.
“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Shelton.” Smiling, she closes the door and disappears. No sooner is she gone than Astrid starts to giggle, and the giggle turns into a loud laugh. She holds her stomach and collapses onto the bed.
I dive in beside her and wait for the punch line. “What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Does she even know how old you are?” She giggles as she does her best imitation of the owner’s voice. “Mr. Shelton?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “But I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”
Her giggle morphs into a smirk. “May she never card you then.” She lies back on the bed and stares up at the plain white ceiling. “Thank you. I needed to laugh at something today.”
I tilt my brow. “Glad I could oblige.”
Astrid grabs for my arm, and the giggling starts again. This isn’t her usual behavior—turns out the tough girl with a chip permanently attached to her shoulder can be silly. Sighing, she places her arms overhead and stretches, which emphasizes her lithe curves. Playfully, I poke her in the side, and she snaps her arms down fast, laughing again.
“In the old days, you would’ve punched me for doing that,” I tease her.