Lies Twist The Way We Think

Chapter 23 - The calm before the storm

Quick update:
Chapters will be uploaded twice a month because I simply don't have the time to write as much as I did before. We're getting closer to my favourite plot points but this is a slow burn after all, so it'll take some time. Right now we're exploring the characters' relationships and the setting, as well as gathering some information. Soon we'll be diving right into the real plot. We're almost there!
Much love, please keep commenting and I admire all of you.

C. R. D. - M. L. T.

There is something sickeningly sweet about memories. We are sitting on my bed, chocolate and sweets stacked between us, a movie on the screen and I have never felt more at home.

Everything starts making more sense when Aisha is here. Somehow, she's managed to settle in perfectly within two hours. When I ask how she convinced her parents, she grimaces.

"They didn't want to let me go, but Noor told Baba that after all, I'm staying with you. Alisa was very winning, too."

I frown, if only for a second. A heartbeat later I turn back to normal. That's how things are. I hide my envy, and she in return let's me pretend I have none.

"It's been boring without you," Aisha says and her eyes sparkle. "Layla has been around all week because she didn't know what to do."

I steal a cookie from her side of the bed. "Layla doesn't know what to do with her time most of the time." She throws a pillow at me and I laugh. "Whatever. Tell me about home."

Home. I never thought I'd miss my school, my town like this. Now that I'm gone, the distance claws on my heart. This house— Hawthorne House— is haunted. It's terrific, and exhilarating, and it doesn't let us go. We're drawn to it like the moth to the flame. But I miss home. I miss Mum. And I've missed Aisha more than I let myself admit.

"Home is the same. Everything is as you know it." Her tone is reassuring, like she knows that I'm a glass figure, threatening to break at any second. "Equally important," she continues, "are you having a disastrous affair with Grayson Hawthorne?"

"No!" I sit up in bed to see if she's joking, but she isn't. "It's not like that at all. He hates me."

"He thinks you're pretty."

I shake my head. "He would probably kill me and threaten every single person in my life if given the chance. I have to live with these people for a year, Aisha. They already have enough reasons to hate me." I'm not thinking about Skye or Zara or Xander or Nash when I say that. I'm thinking about Grayson. Silver-eyed, suit-wearing, threat-issuing Grayson.

"And you?" Two simple words and I am thrown off entirely.

"Aisha, I don't— He's an exasperating, inconvenient, aggravating—", I stop myself and take a breath. "It would be like adding fuel to fire."

"And what a lovely fire it would be," she says and her eyes sparkle.

"I'm supposed to be the bad influence. Not you," I retort. "And besides... there was a girl." I think back to what Thea told me. "She died."

"What?" She sits up, alert. "What do you mean, she died? What's her name?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"What, was I supposed to just ask?"

"Camille!"

I groan and hide my face in a pillow. "You know I'm not good at all this."

"The opposite is true. I'm not saying I like it, but you know how to make people tell you things." Aisha's words bring back memories I'd rather forget. Memories of a time when I used to pry into people's lives, to get my hands on information I used for regrettable reasons. But that was before everything changed, before I broke up with Dean and cut ties with nearly everyone. But you can't erase mistakes like these.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. "It doesn't matter anyway. Grayson is not interested in me, and I'm not interested in him." I say firmly, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

Aisha looks at me for a long moment before she speaks. "Okay, fine. You don't have feelings for him. But promise me one thing, Camille."

"What?" I don't dare speak loudly, for fearing my voice won't be as strong as I claim to be.

"Don't let him get under your skin. He's not good for you, and you know it."

"I won't."

But deep down, I know that Grayson has already gotten under my skin, and I'm not sure if I can ever get him out.

"Who is this lovely lady?" Xander grins, standing in the doorway to my room. I turn my head just in time to see him walk in.

"This might hurt to hear," I say, "but my room isn't an open house for you and your three counterparts to walk in and out of." It's almost nighttime, after all. I'm just glad Aisha was still wearing her hijab when he came in. Even though Xander can't have known that she's here, it's a matter of respect and privacy, two things I'm quite serious about.

Aisha crosses her arms and smiles back. "My name's Aisha. Which one are you?"

I watch as Xander walks through my room and decides to sit on the floor. "The best one, of course. Xander Hawthorne, at your service."

"Of course," I repeat and throw a pillow after him. "What are you doing here?"

He dramatically lies down, a hand on his forehead and his eyes closed. "It's hard being me. So much brilliance collected in one single mind can be demanding." Xander breathes in and out and for the first time, I start to think that maybe it isn't all show. "I also may have accidentally overheard your conversation and wanted to join in."

There is something about Xander Hawthorne that makes me not be able to get mad at him. "You—," I start, but he cuts me off.

"Her name was Emily and both Jameson and Grayson were weirdly in love with her, she made them do dares and all sorts of things and fell off a cliff and died." He rapidly says in one single breath.

I blink. Again. "What?" Aisha's hand reaches for mine.

Xander groans. "Don't make me say it again, Camille."

My mind feels like a car race. Thoughts are racing towards me and crashing against each other, each one trying to form a coherent sentence on my tongue. "Why are you telling me this?"

One of his curls falls in front of Xander's eye and he blows it away. "Because," he answers matter-of-factly, "you deserve to know the truth. Not all of us are evil, dude."

Aisha, who's stayed quiet all this time, asks in a serious tone, "Pancakes or waffles?" And for a moment I wonder if I've missed a conversation or if I'm simply imagining all of this, because Xander nods just as seriously and says, "Waffles."

I let myself fall backwards onto my pillow and laugh desperately. "What is wrong with you guys?"

"Nothing," comes in unison.

Yeah, sure. My friends or whatever. Confusing, crazy, nonsensical, light-hearted, silly and passionate. I'd really like some waffles with them now.