Page 8 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

FOUR

YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE

MAY

You’re On Your Own Kid by Taylor Swift & There’s No Way by LAUV & Julia Michaels

Nellie

“You did it, babe! A fucking master’s degree at twenty-one years old,” my sister Cara says as she hugs me tightly. All her hugs are overbearing and slightly suffocating in the best way.

“Cara, language,” Mom replies to Cara’s little outburst.

“Sorry, habit,” she says.

“How are you in the habit of cussing all the time when you work with children every day? Is that how you talk to your students?” I ask Cara, bumping her with my hip jokingly.

We keep walking, leaving the restaurant behind as we approach the parking lot.

It’s so hot today, unusually hot, and between the humidity and the high temperatures, I really could use a swim to cool off.

My phone vibrates in my purse, and when I pull it out, careful not to trip as I look away from the sidewalk, I see I have a text from an unknown number.

Unknown:

Congratulations, Nellie! You should be so proud.

Me:

Who’s this?

I type quickly before sliding my phone back into my purse and linking my arm with Cara’s.

“When are you going back to Chicago?” I ask Cara as we step closer to my car.

Cara’s moving back to Baker Oaks this summer, and I plan to move back around that time too.

For the first time in a long time, we’ll both live in the same town.

Finally, I can hang out with Cara and the girls without feeling like an outsider or the baby sister.

“I leave tomorrow morning. I’m driving them to the airport first, though.” Chicago is only a few hours from here, so she drove, but our parents came from Florida for this.

“Wait, I thought you two were staying longer,” I tell my parents, who are walking slightly ahead of us, hand in hand.

They’ve been married for almost forty years, and they still hold hands, Mom’s head on Dad’s shoulder while they carry on a conversation in hushed voices.

It’s so beautiful to witness. One thing’s for sure: they set the bar high, and unless I find a man who looks at me the way Dad looks at Mom, I don’t want it.

Another reason to continue living my life without attachments.

Finding something like that is rare. I won’t risk failing at it just because it’s what’s expected.

I’ve dated, obviously, but I often don’t make it to the point where feelings get involved, at least not for me.

I’ve never failed at anything, and I wouldn’t want to start now.

Except, for the past month, all I’ve been able to think about is Gus Zabana.

I enjoyed his company so damn much—not only the way he touched me, but also the way he listened.

The thoughts circling my brain of what could’ve been are more than I’ve been able to handle.

Watching him listen attentively to what I was saying and fight with himself because he was attracted to me when he knew he shouldn’t be was one of the hottest experiences of my life.

No matter how much I try to forget that night, I can’t, and it’s driving me wild.

It’s one hundred percent in my head because he has my number and nothing, not even a “it was nice to see you” message.

I shake my head and get back to reality when I hear my mom say, “We were, sweetie, but something happened with the fryer at Ronnie’s, so we have to go back a day early.

I’m so sorry, Cornelia, but we’re very excited for you to be back home next month.

” My parents own Ronnie’s, a southern food diner in Baker Oaks, so I’m sure if they say they have to go, they truly need to.

I’m disappointed, but I can handle it. Plus, I’ll be moving in with them until I find a place, and I can’t wait to spend more quality time with them this summer.

“I understand. I love you guys,” I say, hugging Mom, then Dad. We’re standing outside Cara’s rental, so I guess this is goodbye.

“If you go out tonight, call me, Nells. I want to join.” Cara hugs me tight again and smiles at me.

Her lemon scent engulfs me, reminding me of long summer days and lemonade stands by the park.

We’re seven years apart, almost eight, which means we were often doing different things.

I always felt like I was playing catch up, never playing together.

She was always off with her friends, doing things I couldn’t, except for the few summers she would set up a lemonade stand, and we’d spend the whole day together.

Cara is an amazing sister and friend, but there’s only so much time you want to spend with your little genius sister. Her words, not mine.

“I’m tired, so I doubt it, but yes, I’ll let you know. Bye, guys. I love you.” I wave at them as I walk toward my car and grab my phone to check if the mysterious number has a name.

Unknown:

Gus

My heart races at the sight of his name.

I make it to my car, get in, and lock the doors before replying.

Usually, I don’t want anything more from a guy than the one night, or even the one dance.

Usually, the kissing, the touching, the banter is enough…

but not with him. Memories of that night flood my brain, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware of how I felt with his hands on me, his low, silky voice singing for me while his hands explored my body.

I usually just want a quick fuck, and I didn’t even get that with him.

I’ve been wanting to figure out if there’s more.

I need to find out if it was a fluke—a combination of the environment, the drinks, and his damn cologne—or if that connection could be something more.

Me:

I was starting to think you forgot how to use a phone.

Unknown:

Why?

Me:

It’s been a month

Unknown:

Have you been counting?

Me:

Now Gus, I don’t like lies. We both know you were counting too.

The worst thing for me about texting is I can’t read tone.

I can’t look at microexpressions. I can’t sense the meaning behind what people are saying, and that puts me on edge.

I change his name on my phone to G, since I don’t have almost anyone’s full names on my phone, until I figure out what I want to call him.

Not that I think I would be calling him anything else.

It took him a whole month to put my phone number to use, and when he does, it’s to congratulate me on my graduation? Not how I was hoping he’d use it.

Me:

Don’t be shy now.

G:

I haven’t.

Me:

Liar.

G:

46,080.

Me:

What’s that?

G:

The number of minutes since the last time I saw you.

What the hell?

Me:

Liar.

G:

768.

Me:

What? Hours?

G:

Yeah.

G:

25.

It can’t be days, because 768 hours is thirty-two days. I have no clue what the twenty-five might mean, but damn it, I’m going to ask, because I want to find out.

Me:

I’m out of guesses

G:

The amount of times I typed a text and deleted it.

Okay, this is both sweet and infuriating. Why? Why wouldn’t he just text? I thought the whole fuck boy persona ended after twenty five, but apparently, Gus didn’t get the memo.

Me:

Why, Gus? I gave you my number. I expected for you to use it.

G:

You know why…

My fingers dance over the screen, waiting and thinking about what I should do next.

I felt like a goddess that night under his stare.

My confidence was through the roof knowing how he was coming undone with every touch.

And that kiss… He was so ready to throw everything out the window to spend a night with me.

That man could have any woman he wants, and he chose me. Fuck, Bee would know what to do.

G:

What are you up to?

I leave my phone in my purse and drive to my condo.

It’s not far from where I am, so I’m home in no time.

I walk through the door, leave my shoes in the organizer, and check to see if I’m alone.

I know Bee and Victoria had plans with their families too, so I wasn’t expecting them.

I find Bee in her room, lying in bed with her phone in her hand, but there is no sign of Victoria.

“Knock, knock,” I say, sticking my head in her room.

“Guess who I’m talking to?” she asks, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. She’s sitting in the middle of her bed, wearing a tiny black dress and a full face of makeup.

“Zero clue, but also…where are you going?” I lean against the wall, phone in hand, as I wait for her reply.

I don’t message Gus back. I need time to think, to figure out what I want the conversation to be.

I learned at a very young age that I’m rather impulsive, so time and waiting are my two best friends when my emotions are at play.

“Frat party. Wanna come? Our last party of the academic year, Nellie. Victoria is with her parents, so she’s being a party pooper. Are you in?”

I don’t want to go. I would rather stay here and read, but maybe going with her will pull me out of the dry spell I’ve been in for the last month.

“Which one?” I ask. Some frat houses are better than others, and the bad ones have my least favorite people.

“The one house you’d never catch Jack at.

” Jack’s the guy I slept with consistently my freshman year.

We were never a thing. He, on the other hand, had no clue.

His frat is one I always avoid. He’s an ass and can’t take a no for an answer.

Jack might have a lot of friends, but they aren’t at Zeta Beta.

The ZB guys hate him—I don’t know why and I don’t care, because it means I can party at ZB Jack-free.

Time and waiting might be my best friends when impulse control is needed, but the perfect addendum to the trio is space.

If I’m not put in a tricky situation, I can make rational decisions without issues.

I can stop and think. I may be young and sometimes wild, but I’m never stupid.

“Then maybe…” I look down at my phone and remember what I actually came here for. She’s still lying on her back, her ph one in her hand, and she’s smirking, kicking her feet. “Who are you talking to?”