Page 23 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

“Begging. Fucking pathetic.”

We wait in the car around the corner from the gym. Oxy’s in the passenger seat, peeling gum, bouncing his knee. I sit like a statue, eyes on the parking lot entrance.

Axel shows up at 7:30. Right on time.

He’s breathless, hands shaking as he approaches the car. I roll down the window.

He holds out the cash. Bills crumpled, counted, trembling in his hand.

I take it. Count it slowly. Let him sweat.

It’s all there. Plus extra.

I tuck it into my jacket, then lean out the window. “You up for another round?”

His face goes white. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Great. I’ll be in touch.”

I reach out, place a palm on his shoulder. Feigned comfort. He flinches.

I smirk as I smack his cheek. “See you soon, Axel.”

He nods, backs away, turns, and storms across the parking lot.

I watch him go. Watch the way his shoulders hunch, the way he keeps looking over his shoulder.

He’ll never be off the hook. Not while I’m interested in his family dilemma.

I rev the engine. The car growls, vibrates.

Oxy grins. “Where to next?”

I park the fucking car in a stall across the lot and look at Oxy.

“Class, Maddox.”

Oxy smirks at me and hits me in the shoulder. “Alright.”

6

Lexi

Ididn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Axel on the ground, blood pooling under his cheek, that guy standing over him like he owned him. Like my brother was nothing.

By 6 a.m., I gave up trying to sleep. I pull on jeans, a black hoodie, tie my hair back, and slip out of the dorm before Scarlett’s alarm even went off.

The campus is quiet this early. Just the hum of streetlights buzzing out, the occasional car passing on the main road, the distant clang of the dining hall loading dock. My breath fogs in the cold air as I walk, hands shoved deep in my pockets.

I know where Axel will be. He mentioned the gym once, back when we still talked like siblings instead of strangers. Said he liked to work out early before classes, before the place got crowded.

I stake out a spot behind a row of bushes near the gym parking lot, far enough back that I’m hidden but close enough to see. The branches scratch at my arms through the hoodie. Dew soaks into my knees where I’m crouched.

And I wait. He’s ignoring me, so I’ve resorted to this.

Twenty minutes pass. Thirty.