It All Started with a Lie

Chapter 10.1

I took several deep breaths as I made it up the stairs, my hands, my chest, my whole body trembling. He'll love me. He has to. But what if he doesn't. What if he looks at me and finds me too brash and improper.

And suddenly I was ten years old again, sitting alone on the playground because everyone thought I was too weird to play with. And then I was thirteen, eating lunch alone while the table in front of me mocked me for my lunch portion size, and the acne all over my face, and my glasses that always seemed too big for my face. They all hated me, and if they hated me, who's to say her brother would be any different. I'm too much for people, sometimes I even wonder if I am too much for Richard.

With tears threatening to spill from my eyes, I walked in the bathroom to find the counter a colossal mess of hair products, makeup, razors, and shaving cream. I heaved a not so soothing breath and splashed water on my face, taking a long look in the mirror. I hadn't worn extravagant makeup today, I never wore that kind of makeup around Richard, but perhaps I should have tonight, to make a good impression. What if he sees me and thinks me too ugly to be around his sister.

He is Richard's brother, her family, he cannot possibly be that superficial, right? Of course not. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, took a deep breath, and reached for the towel to dry my face, but it was nowhere to be found. It was only then that I noticed the fog on the mirror and the dripping shower faucet that hadn't been turned off all the way. Oh gods.

With suddenly sweaty palms and a burst of adrenaline, I made a dash for the door, only for it to be swung open before I got the chance to escape. My breath halted as I stared at the very bare man before me only covered by a short towel at the waist. My eyes grazed from his defined torso, muscles glimmering from the water, to his biceps, decorated in a thick band of black ink, wisped like flames, and stopped before I met his eyes. He was tall, toned—more than toned, way more—and so familiar. Nothing like the boy I'd seen in all the photos. This was a man who'd trained his body so painfully nothing more could hurt him.

Finally, with no choice left, I met his deep blue eyes and at last realized why his smile had been so familiar, it was her smile, Richard's smile, and he, he was her brother. The man who ruined my life, who'd been inside me just days prior, was her brother. Oh gods.

I believe it is safe to say I did not make a great first impression.

He stared at me with his mouth agape, eyes wide and I was sure I was looking at him the same way, if not worse. When he finally spoke, breaking the silence, his voice was hoarse. "Darling?"

This can't be real. This can't be. It must be some cruel dream, a figment of my vivid and torturous imagination. "Oh my gods." I fucked my best friends brother.

At the sound of Beatrice singing off key in the downstairs kitchen, I yanked her brother into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind us. "You're her brother?" I spoke so softly, yet so harshly, that he had step closer just to hear me.

"You're her best friend?" His tone and volume matched mine.

How could he possibly be her brother? How could the monster before me be related to the sweet angel downstairs? "Did you know?" Is that why he sabotaged me?

He ran a frustrated hand through his damp curls. I hadn't had a chance to see the masterpiece that was his body that night on the patio, we'd been in too much of a hurry. But now, I could see everything, everything not concealed by the towel around his waists, and he was perfect, on the outside. And nothing like the boy in the photos is seen. He was supposed to be scrawny, and nerdy, and into chess. And kind, caring, thoughtful. Not a complete and utter asshole who I hate.