Secrets and Lies

I’d like to say that nothing happened. That we just said hello and went our separate ways. But that would be a lie. Because somehow, every time Toby and I ran into each other, the same thing happened. And it usually ended with us making out somewhere: in his car, in the back of the library, or, in this case, in his bedroom.

“Where are your parents?” I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed while he hung his blazer over the back of his desk chair.

“At work.”

“When will they be back?”

“Not for a few hours.”

“Good.” I grabbed him by the front of his button-down shirt and pulled him toward me. I was trying to cha

But Toby stumbled and tripped over one of my legs. He fell forward, and our foreheads smacked together, making us both groan. Then his glasses fell off, and we both scrambled to find them. By the time we were both on his bed, we were laughing so hard neither one of us could breathe.

“Wow, we are smooth,” I gasped.

“We?” he asked. “That was all you.”

“Oh, STFU.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“STFU? It means ‘shut the fuck up.’ Come on, Toby. Where have you been?”

“In a world where normal people don’t speak in abbreviations?” he offered. “Do you realize how much you use them?”

“I don’t do it that much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t!” I insisted, rolling onto my side to face him.

“I’ve heard you use OMG, WTF, BTW, and now STFU. And you’ve said most of those numerous times.”

“No way. Maybe, like, once or twice.”

“I’m going to start counting,” he said. “Maybe I can start an abbreviation jar. Every time you use an abbreviation, you put a quarter in. We’ll see how fast it fills up.”

“It’ll take a long time.”

“By a long time, do you mean three hours?” he teased, nudging my foot with his.

“OMG, stop it.”

“And there’s one.”

“Shit. Okay, but that’s it. That’s the last one today.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Either way, the forehead collision a few minutes ago was your fault.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I was trying to be cool, but my stupid spider legs screwed it all up. Sure, guys may think long legs are sexy at first, but then the concussion happens.”

“I think I’ll take the concussion.” He gave me a soft, almost shy, smile.

I laughed. “Oh, but how will you ever become leader of the free world with multiple head injuries? Your opponents will totally use that in a smear campaign.” I put on a fake politician voice. “Toby Tucker—not only is his name a silly alliteration, but he also once got a concussion while making out with a leggy blonde. Can he really be our president?”

“Hey, don’t mock the alliterative name. If anything, that’ll help me get elected. People will remember it. Think of all the celebrities with alliterations in their names.”

“It’s still a silly name.”

“When I’m president, I’ll have you arrested for saying that.”

“Yeah, and you’ll outlaw speaking in abbreviations. The world will be a much better place.”

We both cracked up. It wasn’t until just then that I noticed his hand on my hip and the way our legs had tangled. We were both on our sides, facing each other, smiling. I could feel my heart pumping away in my chest, excited and nervous. And this time when we moved closer, twisting our arms around each other, things went much, much smoother.

We made out for a while, rolling and shifting until the once neatly made bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and covers. We only stopped kissing when my cell phone rang, a Lady Gaga song belting out from my purse.

“Shit,” I mumbled, rolling off Toby and hurrying to grab my phone. “That’s Bianca. I’m supposed to hang out with her tonight. I’ll BRB.”

I ran out into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind me. Like that would somehow hide Toby from B. I felt fidgety and nervous when I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Casey. It’s me. Are we still on for tonight?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I think so. Sure.”

“Okay. Well, Jess suggested we get together at her place and have a movie night. She promised chocolate swirl ice cream.”

“Great. That sounds fine to me. Really great.”

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Uh, well, can you make it two? I mean, it’s no big deal. I’m just, uh, hanging out with my mom and we’re ru

“Yeah, that works.”

“It’s just Mom is… She’s so busy with Christmas shopping so she has me helping out, and I just, uh—”

“Casey, it’s cool.” B laughed. “God, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You just… Never mind. I’ll see you in two hours.”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone and sighed. I was not a good liar. I didn’t want to be. I’d always considered myself to be a loyal, trustworthy friend. But here I was, in my best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s house, making out with him behind her back. And the worst part? I was eager to go back into his room and pick up where we’d left off. What was wrong with me?

I turned around and opened Toby’s door. He was sitting up on the bed, and he looked over at me when I walked in.

“Quick question,” he said. “What does BRB mean?”

“Be right back.”

“So… it’s an abbreviation?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

He gri

“Damn it.”

“And that makes two.”

***

Toby dropped me off at my house a little while later. It was obvious he wanted to stick around, but I shooed him out of the driveway as fast as I could.

“Bianca will be here soon,” I told him.

“Okay… So?”

“So she doesn’t know about us.”

“Why can’t you just tell her?”

“OMG, Toby, it’s not that easy.”

“And that’s sixteen,” he said. “I’m dating a girl who says ‘OMG’ nearly sixteen times in an hour.”

“I have not used sixteen abbreviations!”

“Yes. Yes, you have. But why can’t you tell Bianca about us?”

“I just… look, maybe I can—I’ll try—but I don’t want her finding out by pulling into the driveway and seeing us in your car. It’s complicated, and I need to find a good way to tell her.”

He sighed. “All right. But can you do it soon? I’m not really the sneaking-around type.”

“Yeah… me neither.” I kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

He drove away. And literally five minutes later, Bianca pulled up in front of my house. I tried to play it cool, not look too guilty or anything. But the harder I tried, the more uncomfortable I got. B kept looking at me like I was on crack.

“You okay?” she asked on the way to Jess’s house.

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine. I’m just cold. Your car is fucking freezing. You still haven’t gotten that heater fixed?”

She shrugged. “I’m in New York, so it doesn’t really matter most of the time. Dad’s tried, but he can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.”

“Is Wesley good with cars?”

B snorted. “Have you met Wesley? He can afford to pay people to fix his car, so he does. I don’t think he’d even know how to open the hood if he had to.”

Jess met us at her front door, dressed in a hideous reindeer sweater and a Santa hat. “Girls’ Night!” she squealed, dancing in a little circle while B and I hung our jackets on the rack by her front door.

“God, Jessica,” B said. “How much caffeine have you had today?”

“Not a drop!” She sprinted into the kitchen and emerged a second later with bowls of ice cream. “Chocolate swirl, naturally.” She handed each of us a bowl. “Now, upstairs!”

I glanced at B and we both shook our heads.

“Some things never change,” I said.

“Yeah,” B agreed. We reached the top of the stairs. Jess waited for us just outside her open bedroom door. “And some things really should. Like that sweater.”