Page 49 of Painted Truths

Scrubbing his hands down his face before shaking his head as though to shed his mind of unwanted thoughts, my best friend looks at me with such deep intent I am fixed to the spot, and my stomach physically churns as he finishes what he has to say without inflection.

“But, Liv, my brother can’t keep it in his pants and has the penchant to turn everything he touches to shit.”

In the deepest reaches of my soul, I feel that Henry DeMarco is not who he pretends to be, and I want now, more than ever, to disclose the fact that I’ve met Henry before starting at DeMarco. But now isn’t that time. Emotions are overwrought, and I can feel the tension emanating off of Alex from a mile away, so I take the only avenue left.

“I’m genuinely not feeling up to going back inside, Alex. Mind if I just call it a night?”

I can sense he wants to push things, but being the kind of person he is, he just smiles indulgently and calls Samuel to ensure he’s ready to drop me home; despite my assurances, I can just Uber.

“Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Minutes later, we exit the arena together, and Alex gives me a gentle side hug before I slip into the backseat of Samuel’s waiting car.

Pulling out into the busy Friday evening traffic, I look back to see him standing there staring after me with his hands stuffed in his pockets and the saddest expression I’ve ever seen on his face.

What is really going on between these brothers?

The journey back to the apartment is quick, and as I let myself in, I see the flat-packed boxes I’d bought for packing for my move. I pop on some 12 Monkeys as background noise and begin the arduous task of packing up my entire life into a handful of brown boxes.

My mind is an unnatural disaster as I try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s impossible to keep my thoughts from wandering back to that kiss.

Shivers of sheer delight race up my spine, settling at the nape of my neck as I recall each brush of our lips, each touch of our tongues, each mingled breath. My heart kicks up a notch as my cheeks flame bright pink at the thought of openly feeling his hardness through his pants—where anyone could have seen us. And they probably did.

My eyebrows gather as I remember Alex’s arrival and his ill-advised attempt at putting his brother off. That’s the very last thing I want, if I’m being totally honest.

Knowing that I need to sort this out with him, I grab my phone and shoot him a text.

ME: Can we do lunch on Monday? 1 pm in the DeMarco canteen?

The reply is almost instantaneous.

ALEX: Of course, Liv. See you then.

Well, here’s hoping we can clear the air then. One thing is for sure, I’ll be saying those three important words.

Henry is McHottie.

I’ve just put the last of my packable belongings into the final box, as I hear the girls twist a key in our front door. I’ll add the last couple of bits over the week before moving day arrives.

There’s a loud rap at my bedroom door, followed by Jo sing-songing my name.

“O-liv-eeeeeeeeee-aaaaaaaaaa!”

Without waiting for my reply, both girls shove open my door, with poor Josie falling inside, obviously three sheets to the wind.

“Where did you go tonight, baby girl? You missed all the backstage action, and let me just tell you, those Misdirection boys know how to par-tay!”

Nola snorts as Josie continues.

“You should have seen the shit that went down, though, seriously. Everyone was forced to sign DNAs leaving the arena. It was a shitshow.”

Nola’s giggles reach fever pitch at Jo’s obvious error.

“Baby, you mean NDAs, and FYI, that means we can’t tell our girl here either, so zippity zip that loose lip of yours before it gets you in trouble.”

My curiosity is piqued, but despite Jo’s obvious inebriation and her desire to share the events of the night with me, I know there’ll be a fallout if she opens her mouth, so I rapidly change the subject.

“Ta-dah! I’m basically already dust, girls. This time next week, and it’ll be like I was never even here.”