Page 7 of We're All Liars

“Dancing.” He nods to the crowd where I soon spot her due to the coordinating deep-red mask she wears to match his.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Just not in the mood.” Neil leans back in the chair and watches her.

“Did something happen?” I ask.

“No,” he answers, but something tells me there’s more going on. I wouldn’t blame him for having a lot going on in his brain, because mine has been jumbled up since our conversation at the docks.

“I sorry for what I said earlier today. You know I don’t look at you any differently, right?” My eyes search out Morgan and find her quickly. “We’ve all been pushed to our limits lately. But it doesn’t change anything between us.”

His quick nod isn’t convincing, but Savannah is back at the table, opting to sit on Neil’s lap as she happily drapes her arms over his shoulders and tells him something that I don’t pay much attention to. Because I unwillingly find Morgan back in my sight. She’s let the douchebag out of his dancing sentence, and he has disappeared. It’s for the best.

Savannah eventually goes back to dancing, then Ava and Topher arrive along with some other guys from the team. It’s not exactly a Saint Juliet sponsored event, but it looks like every student is here, plus a few from other nearby schools.

Ryder and Harrison approach, and when Ryder whispers something in Harrison’s ear, he makes a beeline for the bar. After Ryder takes a seat beside me, he leans over and asked lowly, “Morgan said you set the fire.”

Well, he didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “And?”

“Hoped it was another one of her lies. But something told me it was the truth for a change.” Ryder shifts away, taking a glance around the room. “Have you seen her?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s still not okay.” There is evident concern on his face. “Her nightmares are worse. And she’s found out some more shit about our dad that has her edgy.”

“Wow.” I let out a humorless chuckle. “There’s more?”

Hesitating, he glances around before he leans over. “We have a half sister. Dad knocked up the maid, so she took off with her.”

Not surprising, but kind of hard to grasp. “Poor kid.”

“Right.” He lets out a breath. “But also lucky. Because Morgan found out about her and won’t use her against our father.” Ryder takes a few beats before he asks, “There’s hope for her, right?”

“Beats me.” I shove the chair away from the table. “But it doesn’t change that she’s a raging bitch.”

There’re a few seconds where he just stares at me before he tells me, “If you find her, tell her she left her phone in the limo.”

“I’m not going to find her.” But I know as well as he does I will. Eventually.

8

MORGAN

Squirming against the metal chair, I look over the balcony down to the street. People are celebrating, dancing, drinking, all of it just three floors away while I sit here all gloomy. I know Cade is tired of my shit. But him calling me on mine is beyond frustrating, even more so than him not getting riled up by me dancing with someone else.

I didn’t take it far enough, I guess. Only… I don’t want to take it any further with whatever that fool’s name is. So, I tilt my glass back and drink the remainder of the whiskey as I stand. Once I’m by the ledge, I dump the ice and watch it fall against the pavement. There was no one in the line of fire, but someone a few feet across the road looks up and yells something incoherently. Dumb bitch. Can’t even hold her own shit.

The door opens, and I hear a familiar voice before I turn to see Warren and some chick… I have no clue who she is. When he notices me, he holds up the two glasses in his hand and shouts, “Morgan!” before him and new chick head to the corner of the balcony. There’re a few other random people out and about, but most are inside.

The music floats through the air as the door opens again. Why am I looking for Cade? And why the fuck hasn’t he shown his face yet? I think we’re both losing our touch for tormenting each other. Because this is boring. The masquerade has at least another hour, and I’m already tempted to head out. Just to be done with the night.

Reaching up, I remove the mask that’s been itching the side of my face all night and drop it to the ground. The next thing I plan to do is grab another drink. But before I move to the door, I hear Warren’s chick say, “I don’t feel good.”

She stumbles forwards a bit as Warren catches her, stabilizes her just enough to back her against the wall, then puts his mouth on hers as she pushes him away. Something inside me tenses, my stomach, my chest, I don’t know. But I watch as she manages to push him back.

“Really, Warren, I need to sit down.” She makes a low groaning sounds as she rubs her eyes. “Why do I feel so off?”

“It’s okay, baby. I got you.”