Page 19 of Lying Hearts

Chapter Eleven

Brendan

Noon the next day. Emptying the lizard. Feeling fan-fucking-tastic.

“You totally hit that.” I tap the mirror and chuckle. Pulling out the toothpaste, I squeeze it onto my toothbrush. “I am on a roll!” Foaming up my mouth, I grin and mentally replay how I smooth-talked my way into my first one-night stand. So what if she was a little bossy and weird? She was hot. Would I ever hit it again?

No way in hell.

Instantly uninvited, an image of the screaming blue-eyed banshee pops into my mind. An unexplainable restlessness settles in my chest as I remember her touching my face in the kitchen, staring at me like I was made of gold. Just thinking of her tracing my lip with the gentlest touch of her finger gives me a weird feeling on my mouth, like she’s here again, doing it right now. I’d thought for one second that she was about to kiss me, then. What’s wild is I’d wanted her to.

I shake my head, clearing the image away. I must have been out of my mind.

Rinsing and spitting, I toss the brush on the counter and strut out naked to get some clothes on. I’m not even going to shower. I want to smell like sex on a Sunday morning. Meet the guys for lunch knowing I’ve got her on me. Yesssssss.

A muffled text message alert makes me search the room for the source. Digging into my coat pocket, I find my phone and see Mark’s message: How was Corinne? Still have your dick attached?

I stare, realizing he’s obviously asking from experience, which gives me pause. How do I feel about that? It’s fucking hilarious, that’s how I feel.

Snickering, I type: So, that’s her name? I’d already forgotten.

Staring at the words, I remember the banshee staring at me with that disappointed look in her eyes like I just told her she’d never have Christmas again. I almost don’t hit send, guilt rising in me because of the memory. Dammit! Why’d that girl get in my head?

I send the text and drop the phone on the ground, feeling uneasy.

I remember Corinne’s name. I will probably always remember her name after the fight with the banshee. So I know I’m just showing off with Mark by joking and pretending I’m one of the guys. Does that make what she said, true… that I’m just like them?

What’s wrong with being just like them? With a crew like ours, we are in-fucking-vincible.

But still, her words, her inexplicable sadness, won’t stay out of the fog haunting my mind. Annie… you strange little enigma, why are you in my head?