Tell Me a Truth: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Read online

  The loft was nice. Clean. Had modern furniture and an open concept living area. I loved the dark wood floors and abstract art on the walls. It seemed like every damn part of this apartment was selected by someone with an eye for design.

  “This place is really nice.” I swallowed before taking another step forward. If I was going to live with this guy, I should probably rein in my temperamental tongue. I didn’t know these people, didn’t know if Lance would kick me out for insulting his best friend. I took another step. It seemed like every shuffle of my feet brought me closer to the reality of my situation. “So you’re Lance’s roommate?” I asked while clutching the straps of my backpack. I wasn’t ready to part with it. Setting my belongings down would mean that I was here to stay, and I wasn’t wholly committed to that idea, especially since Decker’s welcoming was cold as ice.

  “Temporary roommate. I bought a fixer-upper outside of town with some land. It needs massive renovations, so I’m staying here for six months while it gets put together. Lance and I grew up together, and he’s always been the type to take in anyone that needs help.” His dark eyes stared openly at me, disdain evident in his expression.

  I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. On the one hand, I felt like another problem someone got off on fixing. I wasn’t special; it was just in my brother’s charitable nature. But I was still thankful for a roof over my head.

  “So where is Lance?” I asked. It seemed weird that he wasn’t even here to greet me. I pulled the cheap gas station phone out of my backpack to see if I had any missed calls or texts from him. I filled up my minutes with some of the money he sent me so we could keep in touch for reasons like this. I was used to flighty behavior, but I’d been hoping he hadn’t inherited that trait from my—our—mother.

  “He got stuck in a meeting with a client. He’s designing a new hotel, and the owner is being a pain in the ass,” Decker replied while staring at me. I wasn’t sure what it was about this guy, but it was as if I could feel his gaze. It wasn’t like a caress or heated look. Just an all-knowing assumption that hit me in the gut with its penetrating punch. “Why don’t you have a seat?” he offered while gesturing to the rustic leather couch beside him. I nodded and reluctantly shuffled over to him, every nerve in my body on high alert with this strange place and this strange man.

  I took off my backpack and clutched it to my chest, not willing to let it go. It seemed silly to hold on to a bunch of meaningless belongings, but they were all I had.

  Once I lowered myself to the couch, he sat beside me. Our legs brushed, and he let out a quick exhale as he shifted to increase the distance between us. It was the first sign of uncertainty I’d seen in his confident demeanor since meeting. I wasn’t necessarily one to enjoy the reactions guys got from looking at me. Boasting about beauty was one of my mama’s vices. But for some fucked up reason, I liked knowing that simple touch affected him.

  “I’ll cut to the chase. I did my homework, saw your mom’s rap sheet. I don’t know you, but I do know that Lance has worked fucking hard to get to where he’s at. If I think—for even a second—that you’re here to cause trouble? I’ll have you gone like that,” he said while snapping his fingers to accentuate his point.

  I should have been pissed. But for some reason, all I could feel was an odd sense of jealousy. What would it feel like to have someone so devoted? What would it be like to have someone that had my back? I didn’t like Decker’s assumptions about me, but I liked that he was fiercely protective of my brother. It must be nice. “Understood,” I gritted.

  “Good,” he replied with a wide smile. “Lance tells me you’ll be a senior this year?”

  I frowned. “I’m not exactly committed to the idea of finishing school. I’m looking at getting my GED so I can get on my feet faster. I guess we’re both temporary roommates,” I replied with a grimace. Decker’s face dropped for a moment as if he was surprised by my answer, but he recovered quickly.

  “Temporary is good. You’re a National Merit Scholar, yeah?”

  Of course he knew about my grades. Lance seemed like an open book, telling you his life story the moment he got you in his grasp. It figured he’d tell his roommate all about me. I just wished he’d told me about his angry roommate.

  The truth was that I loved school. I loved learning new things bigger than my shitty life and shitty situation. My grades had slipped a little while taking care of Mama. Between working nights as a custodian at the local power plant and making sure her quality of life was decent, I didn’t really have time for homework.

  “Yeah, I was,” I replied, wanting to change the subject. I didn’t want to get my GED. I didn’t want to work in some crappy job with crappy pay. I’d had plans, once. “I think right now I’m just taking things a day at a time. I want to meet Lance and see if this is going to be a good fit for me. I have three weeks until school starts. If I think I can put some roots down here, I will. I’m not committing to anything yet, regardless of what you think.”

  “Fair enough,” Decker replied speculatively before twisting his body to look at me. His white shirt strained against his muscular body, and sitting this close, I could see the hint of a tattoo peeking up his neck. “I teach biology at a magnet school,” he explained. “If you want to make something of yourself, let me know. I’d be happy to help you get enrolled. If you think you’ll just be sitting here on your ass, you’re dead wrong.”

  I stared back at him, shock scattering across my face like spiders. “I have no intention of sitting here on my ass,” I replied in a mocking tone.

  I twisted to stare at the front door, not sure if I wanted Lance to show up and end this awkward interrogation. I was pretty sure it would just elevate the strange situation to an entirely new level of uncomfortable. “I just want to make sure you aren’t another person capitalizing on Lance’s generosity. I am sorry about your mom though,” Decker finally said after a long lull.

  I kept my eyes trained on the front door, willing my brother to show up and drag me away from the polite “thank you” I’d have to purge from my system. I felt terrible because there was a deep part of me, a piece I didn’t want to acknowledge or admit was there, that was happy to see her gone. Not because she was a terrible mother. Not because she brought boyfriends home that touched me and pushed me around. Not because we were poor and lonely.

  I was glad Mama died because I was finally free. I didn’t want to be chained to a selfish woman’s suffering when I knew she ultimately wouldn’t provide me with the same courtesy. “Thanks,” I replied in a dull tone, my bland gratitude seeping from my pores with every syllable. “So I’m guessing Lance does this often? Takes in strays?” I asked.

  “All the fucking time. Lance would give the shirt off his back to a murderer if given the chance,” Decker replied while rubbing his temples.

  “Well, I’m not a murderer,” I replied with a smile, hoping to salvage the situation.

  “That’s exactly the sort of thing a murderer would say,” he deadpanned.

  I rolled my eyes before shifting on the couch, brushing my thigh against his in the process. “Did Lance have a good life?” I asked, not sure why I wanted to know. “I mean, what are his adoptive parents like?”

  Thankfully, Decker picked up on my change of direction in the conversation and rolled with it. “Mr. and Mrs. Trask are outstanding people. I’m sure you have lots of questions, and Lance would be much better at answering them for you. But we grew up together, and for the most part, I think he’s had a very fulfilling life.”

  I dug my fingers into my backpack, my nails bending backwards as I pressed. “I’m glad Lance had a good home. When I found out I had a brother that was put up for adoption, I didn’t know what to think. Did he know he was adopted? Or was this all a shock?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Trask have always been upfront about his adoption. He’s always craved a relationship with your mom though. He’s taking the death kind of hard.”

  Well, that made one of us.

  �
��Even though I’m not happy about you being here, I think it could be good for him to grieve with someone, you know? Maybe you could tell him about her?”

  I’m not sure how the combination of words escaped my lips, but before I could stop them from pouring out my mouth, there they were. “He’d be happier not knowing,” I said in a voice so low that I hoped Decker didn’t hear.

  “I see,” Decker replied, thankfully not commenting on it.

  We were both left suspended in tension for a moment longer before the knob to the front door twisted and in walked a tall, blond man with striking eyes and a fist full of flowers. He was wearing jeans and a tight black shirt. His fingers had ink stains blotting them, and his left shoe was untied. He looked casually careless and put together all at once.

  “Blakely?” he asked, his eyes widening to a broad grin. “Oh gosh, it’s so good to meet you finally!”

  Setting my backpack to the side, I stood up and smoothed out my dress, not knowing if I should shake his hand or hug him. What did people usually do in these situations? “Gosh, we look alike,” he said before stalking over, holding a bouquet out to me. I guess he was right. We had the same bright eyes. The same shade of hair. He was taller than me, naturally. And his skin was tanned like he’d just gotten back from the beach. Although his nose was sharper, we still shared a lot of features. It was jarring. “I, uh, got you these. Would you believe I googled ‘what to get your long lost sister’ ?”

  I laughed. Lance was quirky and warm, like sunshine. Once he was in front of me, he seemed to mirror the same indecision as I, but ultimately decided a side hug would do. When his arm circled my shoulder, I half expected to breathe in the smell of our mama. She always smelled like cigarette smoke and roses. But instead, he smelled like paint and warm paper.

  When he pulled away, I tucked my blonde hair behind my ear nervously before looking back at Decker, my breath stalling when I noticed how his eyes were on mine, inquisitive and firm. He made me feel like a question he wanted the answer to.

  Decker ran his hands down his thighs before standing up too. For some reason, I found myself wanting to keep staring at him. That thought had me tearing my eyes back to Lance, who was taking in the sight of me. “It’s nice to meet you, Blakely,” Lance said with a genuine smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  2

  Blakely

  Lance and I spent thirty minutes dancing around our awkwardness with clumsy questions about the humidity and our favorite meals. I decided right away that he was naturally charismatic. Even though he sensed my unease, he navigated my short answers with simple questions, foregoing the hard topics in the process. I appreciated that about him. It almost reminded me of Mama. She was good at working a crowd and had that natural beauty about her that just drew people near. Too bad she often attracted the wrong kind of people.

  While Lance and I spoke, Decker stared at us with his dark eyes in contemplative silence, following our back and forth with a tilt of his head. He only acknowledged our conversation with an occasional nod or to interrupt with a curt question. My eyes kept drifting back to him against my better judgment.

  “How was the drive?” Lance asked. “I thought for sure you’d be here yesterday.” I blushed, too embarrassed to admit that my nerves had gotten the best of me. My slow drive had nothing to do with my old, beat-down car and everything to do with the fact that I was scared to come here. But neither he nor Decker needed to know that.

  “I had a little trouble in Oklahoma. My car overheated so I had to take it easy,” I lied before forcing a light chuckle. “Ol’ Roxy needs a little TLC from time to time.”

  “Roxy?” Decker asked with an eye roll, pretentious disapproval dripping from every syllable. “You named your car after a stripper?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to explain that Mama named our car after her best friend—who just so happened to be a stripper on the weekends. I hadn’t seen Roxy’s namesake since she stole four hundred dollars from our hidden cookie jar in the kitchen, but her name stuck. Maybe that’s why the car was cursed. The rotten piece of machinery wouldn’t die but kept breaking down.

  “She has stage presence,” I replied instead. It was much easier to joke.

  Lance then proceeded to make an offhand comment about finding me a more suitable form of transportation, which made Decker bristle. It was a generous offer, but I ignored it and changed the subject to something that didn’t make my stomach twist. I didn’t like it when people made empty promises. My distrust was one of the perks of having a dysfunctional childhood.

  “So how long have you known each other?” I asked. My eyes went back to Decker, who had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, showing off his muscular, tanned forearms and expensive watch. What kind of teacher could afford a Rolex?

  “We’ve been neighbors all our lives. We went to the same college, even. When I moved to Memphis, Decker got a teaching job here a year later,” Lance explained.

  “So y’all are essentially in a committed bromance?” I joked, making Decker roll his eyes again.

  “Mrs. Trask says that all the time. We just get along. Mostly, I keep him out of trouble,” Decker said before giving me a pointed look. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “I would rather have one consistent friend than a million flakes,” he added before leaning back on the couch, making his tight shirt cling to his abs in the process. My eyes raked up and down his chest before drifting back to Lance.

  I could respect Decker’s views on friendships. I couldn’t even blame him for being an asshole earlier. I’d always been the type to keep to myself. I had a bunch of acquaintances, but when Mama was diagnosed, anyone who claimed to give a fuck disappeared.

  “Can I show you your room?” Lance finally asked. I guess he was just as tired as I was of all this small talk. It was time to face the music and dive into the reality that I’d be staying here for a little while, at least until he let me down. “I’ve been working on it a lot. I hope you like it,” he added.

  I was surprised to hear that he’d been working on it. I wasn’t really used to people investing time and consideration in me. Lance seemed eager and excited to have me here, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Sure!” I replied with enthusiasm, though admittedly I wasn’t expecting much. I was an unplanned visitor and hadn’t really intended for him to go out of his way. I spent the last few weeks telling myself that this was only for a little while and that I’d be out of here as quickly as I could. Not once had it occurred to me that there was some permanence to this arrangement.

  Lance eagerly led me down the hallway toward my bedroom. “The bathroom is here,” he began while gesturing to a door on the side. “Decker’s room is here,” he added while pointing at another closed door. “And your room is across the hall from his. Mine is on the other side of the loft.”

  I stared at Decker’s door for a second longer than necessary before listening to Lance ramble some more. “I called a friend of mine to decorate. I know you’re really into science, so I focused on geometric patterns as the main theme,” he said excitedly, the pitch of his voice rising with every syllable. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I wasn’t necessarily really into science. Science just came easily to me. It made more sense than people most of the time. “I really hope you like it, but if anything isn’t to your taste, I have a staging warehouse full of furniture. Just say the word, okay? I know how important a space is, and I want you to feel at home here.”

  He wanted me to feel at home? When was the last time anyone cared enough for me to feel comfortable? I pushed that thought away and swallowed. Lance then twisted the doorknob and opened the door before stepping to the side so I could see. The moment I saw the bright, airy room, my breath caught in my chest, like a balloon inflated so much that it was about to pop. The space was beautiful. Stunning, even. Based on his job, I knew Lance was into design, but I wasn’t prepared for this.

  The first thing I noticed was that
it had a big window facing the street, giving me a clear view of the people walking by below. Now to some, that might not seem like a big ordeal. Windows were common enough. Bright rooms were a small luxury that many didn’t realize they were privileged to enjoy. But back in our trailer, three years ago, a massive hail storm destroyed our roof and all of our windows. Mama had to spend most of our grocery money on plywood, and we sealed the trailer shut as much as we could. It took almost two full days of hard work to patch the roof. The makeshift repairs ended up blanketing our small home in darkness.

  People didn’t realize what small, dark places could do to a person’s mood. My home became a tomb I couldn’t escape.

  The bed in my new room was easily king-sized, much bigger than the twin cot I slept on back home. Deep purple bedding littered with gold, geometrical lines covered the plush mattress, making it look cozy. White nightstands were posted at both ends of the massive bed, with bright lamps perched on top of them. By the window was a cozy leather loveseat with purple throw pillows tossed decoratively along it. A desk with a brand new MacBook sat in the corner, the screen saver already boasting my name. The artwork on the walls was thoughtfully laid out, with more geometric patterns scattered tastefully around the space. I never really gave much thought to the type of bedroom I wanted, but if I had to imagine a perfect place, this would be it.

  “This is for me?” I asked in shock while walking inside. My mouth dropped open as I gaped at the room. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I agreed to move here, maybe a futon in a spare bedroom or an air mattress. But never this. Decker followed after me, clutching my worn backpack to his chest as Lance stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a pleased look on his face.

  “Do you like it?” my brother asked.