Page 64 of All Your Lies

“You look exhausted. Up all night talking to your biker daddy?” I grin.

Jenna’s nose scrunches in disgust. “I’m with Rosie. That name is awful.”

“Only when it’s directed at you.”

“Nothing is going on between him and me.”

“Yeah, sure, it looked like it from the way he was tracking you all night like you were his last supper on death row.”

“You’re imagining things. What’s that?” Jenna points at Gage’s gift I have yet to open.

“More lies,” I state before throwing the box haphazardly on my nightstand with a thunk.

“Sounds fun. Give it here.”

“Nope. It’s staying closed until I’m ready.”

“What if it’s your engagement ring?”

My eyes widen in horror. “Then it’s definitely staying in there.”

“The anticipation might kill me,” Jenna whines.

“I’ll play all your favorite songs at your funeral.”

She grins. “Promise?”

I give a noncommittal shrug. Jenna smiles before jumping over me like a ninja. She grabs the box and opens it like a child on Christmas morning before I can comment further.

She chuckles. “How very early 2000s Mafia Daddy. I wonder if this even works.”

That has me jumping from my bed with speed I didn’t know I could muster so early in the morning. “Give it here, and I think I’m with you on the daddy talk.”

“Nah, his nickname has a ring to it.” Jenna grins as she studies the small iPod in her hands. “What do you think’s on here? A sex track for your wedding night?” Her eyebrows wiggle.

“I swear your mind is always in the gutter. Must be your little friend with the creepy eyes making you all hot and bothered.”

Jenna pauses before forcing her face into a neutral, emotionless mask. Every time I bring up the guy I now know as Trey, she acts strange. If she likes the guy, she should go for it, as I’ve told her multiple times. She’s been tight-lipped about anything to do with him.

Jenna opens her mouth to say something witty, I’m sure, but I use that as my moment to rip the iPod out of her hands.

She grumbles, “My reflexes are shit this morning. I’m going to go crash out. When you listen to it, let me know. I’m dying to know how cheesy Mafia Daddy really is.”

With that, she walks out, and I’m again left with my thoughts.

I can’t help but smile as I look down at the small, worn iPod, a relic from my past. I flip it over and run my thumb over Gage’sengraved initials on the back. As teens, we would make each other playlists. Music was something we both bonded over.

We passed the iPod between us more times than I could count, creating hundreds of playlists. This device is featherlight, yet it’s heavy in my hands.

Nostalgia washes over me as vivid recollections of our joyful laughter and carefree days surge through me, igniting a roller coaster of emotions while I lovingly caress the initials one last time, my eyes welling up with tears.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I reach for the box, my fingers brushing against a folded piece of black paper tucked inside. I reach for it, but then I hesitate. I feel like I’m not ready to read whatever is on this note, so I carefully put the iPod back into the box and close it.

My phone dings with a notification, and I know it’s him without checking. He sends me a million text messages a day, and if not that, he will call relentlessly.

Sometimes I answer. Most of the time I don’t.

The Liar