Forgiving Lies

I shut my eyes and listened to the remainder of “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain in my car before preparing to get out. My dad used to sing that to my mom when they thought I wasn’t looking. He’d pull her close in the kitchen and dance with her slowly as he softly sang each word in her ear. My dad was sweet like that, and I remember thinking I wanted a guy just like him. A rugged-looking softy who would take the time to dance with his wife for no reason at all. He looked at her like she was the world. And I’d vowed to never settle for less. But after Daniel and Blake, I was considering becoming a nun, or a crazy cat lady like our new neighbor Mrs. Adams. Either sounded pretty perfect to me.

As soon as Edwin’s voice and the saxophone drifted off, I turned my car off, and opened my door. A short shriek burst from my chest and I tried to slam my door shut, but I already had one leg out and ended up just causing more pain and damage than I would’ve if I’d left the door alone. I pushed it back open, avoiding the motorcycle that had almost had a collision with my door, and rubbed my leg. That shit hurt.

The roar of the motorcycle stopped, and the rider whipped off his sunglasses. “Are you trying to get your door taken off?”

My heart had stopped the minute I’d looked into his piercing gray eyes, but anger quickly took over everything. “Do you always swing into parking spaces when someone is opening their door?” I rubbed my leg once more and stumbled awkwardly out of my car. I realized he hadn’t answered me, and after shutting my door and locking the car, I turned to face him, a frown tugging at my lips when I saw him smirking. “I’m fine, if you’re wondering.”

He sat up straight on his Harley and took a deep breath in. “I’m sorry I made you hurt yourself. I’m Kash, by the way.”

“Cash . . . like money? Or Joh

“Um, I guess we can go with Joh

“Kash with a K. Got it. That’s a, uh . . . very interesting name. Fits the image, I guess.”

His head jerked back. “I’m sorry, what?”

I took a few steps toward the apartments before turning to look at him, my hand waving over his frame, which was now hunched back over his bike. I wondered who he was here to see. “You know, the whole ‘bad boy’ thing you’ve got going on there. Tattoos, lip ring, Harley. Makes sense you’d have a nickname and try to make it, I don’t know, awesome or something by having it start with a K. Have a nice day; try not to almost take any more car doors off, Kash with a K.”

Kash huffed a short laugh and his brow creased; he opened his mouth to speak but I turned and found my way to my apartment before he could say anything else. I was in a pissy mood, and I really didn’t want to deal with someone like him. Didn’t matter if my heart had skipped a few beats and butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach when I first saw him. I’d had issues with two perfectly normal-looking guys; a bad boy was definitely not in my future. Guys, in general, weren’t in my future.

“Candi, I’m home,” I called, and walked through the living room to my room to kick off my shoes and toss my purse and cell on the bed.

“Ohmigod!” she screeched as she followed me into my room. “You have got to see the guys who just moved in across the hall from us!”

“No thanks,” I mumbled.

“Seriously, Rach, these guys are hot with a capital hot. Mason and Logan, they’re cousins. You’ve got to meet them.”

“Like I said—” I turned and stopped short when I saw her. “Candice, please tell me you haven’t met them yet.”

“Of course I have!”

“Were you wearing that?”

She rolled her eyes and turned to check herself out in my full-length mirror. “Duh, I had to show them the goods that will be living next to them!”

“Candice! You’re in cheer shorts and a bikini top! Did you even go to the pool today?”

“Uh, no. But anyway, it doesn’t matter if you want to meet them or not. We’re going out for di

“You might be going out for di

She flipped me off without taking her gaze from the window.

“Oh, you know I’m kidding . . . but for real, warn them.”

“So hateful.” She shook her head and dropped the blinds and curtains before walking past me toward her own room. “Whatever, I’ll be lucky if either is interested in me after they’ve seen you. I’m going to hop in the shower, and you should start getting ready soon. We’re leaving at seven.”

“I’m not going, Candice!” But it didn’t matter; she’d already shut her bedroom door.

With a sigh, I turned and went to my bathroom. Stripping out of my comfy clothes, I turned the shower on and waited until the room was filled with steam before stepping in.

And no, I still wasn’t going.

That’s what I continued to tell myself when I was doing my makeup almost forty-five minutes later and when I did large, loose curls throughout the bottom half of my long hair. Not going. Just getting ready to sit around the apartment looking pretty. When my hair was done, I checked my makeup one more time, making sure the smoky eyes were just enough to make my blue eyes pop but not so much that I looked like I was going clubbing. I flossed and brushed my teeth, told myself one more time I wasn’t going to go, then went to my closet to pick out something to wear.

Candice burst into my room thirty minutes later, and I was standing there in a bra and underwear, just staring at my closet.

“I can’t believe you’re not dressed yet! I told you to get ready! They’re going to be here in, like, five minutes!”

“I think this is a sign that I shouldn’t go.”

She huffed and pushed me out of my closet before walking in. “You can tell yourself all you want that you’re not going. But even if you’d stayed all skanked out like you were earlier, I would’ve still dragged you out the door with us.”

I wanted to sneer at her and ask why it was okay to stay skanked out with these guys and not Blake, but I kept my mouth shut. We hadn’t talked about the situation with Blake since Candice had come back to the dorm with food and ice cream that afternoon. It was just easier this way.

In less than two minutes, Candice was walking out of my closet and throwing my outfit onto the bed. “There. Get dressed.”

“Heels? Candice, are these guys even tall?” I’m five eight. And these were four-and-a-half-inch stilettos.

“Yeah, they’re ginormous, they’re going to be here any second, get dressed!”

“Gah, so pushy.” I dressed in my faded ski

She stamped her foot—yes, Candice still stamped her foot like a five-year-old—and her pursed lips turned into a pout. “This is so not fair! Can I have your boobs for just one night?”

“Yeah, sure . . . let me just take them off,” I said, deadpan. “Tell me, Candi, do I look all right?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d do you.”

I snorted, “You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

Rolling my eyes, I walked into my bathroom and put on some perfume. “It’s true.”

Just then there was a knock on the door. Candice squealed, did her little happy clap, and left my room. I took everything I would need out of my monster of a purse and threw it in the dark green clutch Candice had dropped on my bed as well. With one last breath and look in the mirror, I stepped out into the living room and tripped over myself when I saw them. My hand shot out to the wall to keep myself somewhat vertical, and both guys standing near the door with Candice took a step toward me with eyes wide and arms out. Like they could catch me from over twenty feet away.