Started With a Lie

Chapter Twenty

          “Get the door,” I tell Lee.

              “Me?” he says, pointing to himself like I accused him of great crime.

            “No,” I say, “I’m talking to the freaking lamp.”

            Lee looks over to the lamp on the nightstand next to him. It’s a floral patterned lamp—one of Mom’s favorites. He turns his gaze back to me, his eyebrow arched. “Why would you talk to a lamp? That’s simply—”

           “I’m being sarcastic, genius!”

              His eyebrows knit even more. “Oh,” he says. He crosses his arms. “I knew that.” His muscles flex and I have to pry my own eyes away before he catches me staring. “Why should I get the door anyways? It’s your house. Why don’t you go open it?”

           “Just do it!” I demand, crossing my own arms. It seems that I’m the only sane person in the bed—also the only dressed one for that matter. My thoughts travel back to Lee’s abs but I catch and turn them around before they can get further. “Go open the door.”

                “No, why don’t you.”

             “Open the fucking door, Lee.”

             “Don’t curse at me, you little woman with—”

               I seemed to be so busy arguing with the stupid and arrogant Lee that I didn’t realize that the doorbell had stopped. I also didn’t realize someone was standing at the door. Someone I hadn’t seen for a long while.

              My eyes widen. “Brent?!” I jump out of the bed, a grin etched onto my face. “Brent, it really is you!” I run and jump on him into a big bear hug. My brother is here. I haven’t seen him ever since he left for college this year. He could be a real jackass but he really isn’t so bad. He’s actually quite okay. “What are you doing here?!”

         I feel Brent hugging me back. He pulls me away. His face is blank—not a trace of a smile or even any emotion. “What are you doing, Ivory?”

             My eyebrows press together in confusion. “What do you mean?” Brent’s eyes wander behind me where the two (naked) men are, still inside the bed. Mark is rubbing his eyes open as Lee stares at Brent. Now that I think about it, it must’ve looked really awkward in Brent’s eyes. “Oh! Them. Oh, this is not how it looks! I wasn’t doing anything, I swear!” Brent’s face questions me. “How about you head down to the kitchen? I’ll fix you up a coffee. I’ll explain. I promise.”

             Brent stares for a few minutes at everything before nodding. “Fine.” He readjusts his duffel bag on his arm before lugging away to the kitchen downstairs. When I hear him step off the stairs, I close the door.

              “You two need to go!” I tell Lee and Mark. I pick up their clothes, which they rudely decided to throw on the floor. Throwing their clothes at their faces, I start fixing the bed. “Get up, get up!”

          Mark sluggishly gets out of bed. Lee is already on his toes, putting his pants and shirt on. He throws on his watch on his wrist and does his tie—looking sophisticated and calm. Mark on the other hand is still trying to stand up. They were so contradicting to each other.

               While Mark finally gets his ass moving, Lee pulls me to the corner of the room, holding my elbow in a death grip. “Who was he?”

                “Who was who?”

               “That guy.”

                 “Oh,” I say. “That’s Brent.”