Little White Lies
Ava
The restof the weekend drags by with no sign of Grant. In an effort to look poised and polished last Friday night, I may have forgotten a few important details, like getting his number. Although the paranoid part of me did consider the fact that maybe he thought it best not to exchange our seven digits lest I text him to an early grave. I have been known to be quite prolific, penning entire tomes to friends far and near on my favorite digital device. I can’t help it. I’m a talker—and in Grant’s case, I’ve quickly evolved to a stalker. I’ve been interested in boys before. There was this one guy in boarding school whom I had a quasi-relationship with, but that was junior high. We hardly kissed, let alone dated. Once my parents booted me to public school, I was basically in survival mode. To put it mildly, high school sucked big hairy balls. The girls hated me. The boys simply weren’t interested, and the teachers, well, they weren’t really all that interested either. I knew college had to be better, so I clawed my way here early. I bet I’m the only seventeen-year-old on campus. But who cares? With Lucky and Harper—with my new big brother Grant—my life is immeasurably better.
Monday lives up to its infamy by slogging by irritatingly slow. English 101 is the new bane of my existence with pre-calculus coming up for a close second. Once classes are through for the day, both Lucky and Harper head to Hallowed Grounds for coffee, but I make a beeline for the Black Bear to meet with my magnificent mentor—Daisy Pembrooke, my self-appointed big sister. If it’s one thing I didn’t expect to earn at Whitney Briggs, it’s a whole new set of siblings, one of which I’d like to wed and bed and not necessarily in that order.
The Black Bear smells of fries and wine, a somewhat stomach-churning combination for those of us too young to legally imbibe. Not that those frat parties care if I partake in an illegal liquor-based activity. Lucky and I have clutched a red Solo or two, but Harper is still a virgin in that capacity—not in the traditional capacity. That award goes to her part-time boy toy, Justin. Lucky and I happen to be virgins in the traditional capacity, and if Jet and Owen have a say in it, we always will be. There’s no way we’re going to pull the penis wool over their eyes. Not at Whitney Briggs with the two of them breathing down our virginal necks.
A familiar redhead waves from the bar, and I wave back at my cousin, Roxy. Rox and her brother, Ryder, are about the only other people I really know in this end of town. Of course, I know Roxy’s boyfriend, Cole. He’s a bartender here at the Black Bear part-time and a student at WB. He also happens to be a total sculpted masterpiece. I sort of know Baya, Cole’s sister. She’s the one Aubree almost offed a few years back, and it’s because of that my sister was finally stopped in her murderous tracks. A pressing grief washes over me as Aubree sinks to the forefront of my mind, and I’m quick to push her away.
“Get over here, girl!” Roxy pulls me in for a strong hug. Her long crimson waves hold the scent of sugar and cinnamon, most likely because she’s been baking all day. Roxy owns her own cupcake business, Sprinkles, and is doing better than okay for herself. The way she’s filling orders you would think there was gold in each batch. “What brings you this way? You meeting Owen?”
“Nope.” That’s the thing with the Black Bear. It’s always crawling with family. I’m about the only girl at WB who isn’t grateful there’s a bar across the street. “Actually, I’m meeting with a friend.” I scan the area for the blonde in question. Daisy is beautiful and smart, although she’s made a few dicey life decisions, like pole dancing, letting people suck sushi off her naked body at corporate events—and falling into a fake, yet heavily publicized relationship with some old coot from the Senate. She’s no saint, but in truth, that makes me like her all that much more.
Roxy’s dark red lips round out into the perfect O, and suddenly I have the urge to stick a lollipop into her mouth. “Would that friend happen to be of the male persuasion?”
“Are you insane? You do know who my brother is, right?” Considering Roxy is pretty close to Owen, I think it’s best to keep all parties in the dark about my newfound obsession. It’s too bad. Roxy is a great person, and I would love to spill all of my feelings about my new, big bro.
“Hey, you!” Laney hops around from the other side of the bar. Laney is Ryder’s wife—more family to contend with, case in point why the Black Bear is a no-go for me as far as fun zones are concerned. That’s part of the reason I wanted to rush Kappa G. There’s not a single family member on The Row, and I like it that way. “Meeting up with Owen?” Laney bats those big doe eyes my way. She’s always reminded me a bit of those cartoon drawings of beautiful little girls with giant oversized eyes. Laney is hysterical and just the kind of girl anyone would love as a friend, which is probably why she’s one of Roxy’s best friends. A few years back, Owen took me to see a few plays that Laney was in. She’s always starring in something with the WB theater department.
“Are you kidding?” I smirk at the thought of meeting up with my controlling brother. “I’m here to relax. If I wanted to have someone size me for a chastity belt, I would have gone straight to his apartment.”
Laney sucks in a breath. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” I offer just as a perky little blonde buzzes into the bar. “Here’s my ride! Gotta go.” I jump off the stool and turn back. “How about an order of sweet potato fries? They’re my favorite!”
“I’ll keep ’em coming!” Laney disappears to the kitchen with a wave.
“Daisy!” I squeal all the way over to her before dragging her off to a table a safe distance from the bar itself. “So glad you could make it. I’ve gotgreatnews!”
“Let me guess.” She leans in, and a gust of her cotton candy perfume wafts over me. Daisy is perfect both inside and out. I know she’s self-conscious about everything that’s happened to her this year, but the way she’s handled it makes her look like that much more of a badass. “He’s tattooed your face on his chest, proposed, and has already named your future children.” She fans herself with her fingers. “Let this be a lesson—all of my advice is golden. I may not know how to navigate my own life, but I sure can drive the hell out of yours.”
“Daisy.” I press my hands to the table in an effort to keep calm. “You told me to wear lip gloss and a smile.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
I wince. “Mostly.”
“So spill!” Daisy hops in her seat as Baya comes over to take our orders. Daisy orders something fun and fruity, and I get the same minus the fun. I wait until Baya takes off before even uttering his name.
“He’s tall, dark, and handsome in the traditional sense, but he’s got this dry sense of humor.”
A guttural moan comes from her. “Love that dry sense of humor to damn death.”
“Yes, well, apparently, so do I. He’s nice, too. Is that weird? I don’t know why, but I thought all guys were jerks—the cute ones at least.”
“That’s because you’ve been hanging with those frat brats.”
“Shh!” I practically jump out of my chair in an effort to muzzle her. Daisy is the only person outside of my holy huddle who knows about Kappa G. Sororities haven’t exactly served my family well. In fact, my parents blame Aubree’s psychosis on her time spent on The Row, even though she killed that poor girl long before she ever entered WB. “I see your point. But in the defense of frat brats everywhere, he just so happens to be in the fraternity right across the street.”
Her eyes enlarge like eggs just as Baya comes by with our drinks and fries. I wait until she sashays back to the bar before continuing.
Daisy clucks her tongue before sipping from her drink. “I’m telling you, your brother is lucky that you have to wait an entire year to move into that place. But by then, you and what’s his name will be old news.”
My stomach sinks when she says it. “What do you meanold news?” The thought of Grant moving on, trading inme, his little sister, for an actual girlfriend makes me want to vomit nonstop. Of course, I could picture it. WB is loaded with tall, beautiful girls in every shape and size who would gladly wrap their arms around him night and day.
“You know”—she wrinkles her nose while dipping her fries into a pool of ketchup—“a done deal. I mean, it’s not like you’re going to hide your boyfriend from your brother forever.”
