Two Little Lies (Seasons of Deception) Page 3

  “I’ve read your file already, Laney. I want to hear it straight from you, in your own words. Besides, talking about it could prove to be therapeutic. Trust me, I know from personal experience,” she says with a knowing smile.

  “Okay, but this may take longer than the time we have left in the appointment.”

  “You let me worry about that. Just get it all out. There’s no set time limit on the healing process,” she replies as she relaxes back into her chair and crosses her legs at her ankles. Her pen and notepad are at the ready, waiting for me to begin reciting my story.

  A guttural scream pierces my lips as I spring up in bed, reliving the nightmare I described in detail to Dr. Marks a couple days ago. It seems talking about it hasn’t helped in the slightest, like she thought it might, but it was worth a shot.

  My heart pounds within my ears and my lungs burn as I gasp for small, calming breaths. A bead of sweat runs down my brow and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. When the realization that I’m safe within the familiar confines of my dorm room hits, a sense of relief washes over me.

  I hear the sound of keys jangling as they maneuver into the lock on the room’s door handle before it’s thrown open. It slams against the wall, revealing a shadowy outline of a person rushing toward me. I instantly recognize my roommate’s voice.

  “Oh my God, are you okay? I heard you scream from down the hall, probably along with the rest of the floor.” Nia releases a worried laugh, trying to make light of the situation. “Was it the nightmares again?” She moves her face in front of mine and rests her hands on my shoulders. Her amber eyes glisten in the light coming from the hallway as her mouth contorts into a concerned smile.

  “Yeah. The damn nightmare strikes again,” I reply while running my hand through my hair before massaging my temples to ease an oncoming headache.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I was studying in the lounge with Emma. We’ve got our last final tomorrow before break and I have to ace it to keep my average up,” Nia rambles. “And since I need this class for my major-”

  “It’s fine, Nia. Really,” I say, interrupting her.

  “Sorry, I’ve got about ten cups of coffee coursing through these veins right now in order to stay awake. I have, like, zero control over my mouth and what comes out of it.”

  I let out a hollow laugh as I reach over to turn on my bedside lamp.

  “Hey, can I get you anything? Water? Your pills? Me to stop yapping away, maybe?”

  I smile at her continued ramblings and she returns it. “I’ll be all right, don’t worry. You should get back to studying. You know how Emma can get if you keep her waiting,” I answer with a smirk.

  “You’re not a fan of Emma’s, are you?” she inquires with an eyebrow raised.

  “I am, but just in small doses, which should make being around her this whole weekend very interesting.”

  “She’s not that bad.”

  “I know she’s not. I just wish she’d stop walking on eggshells around me. And why does she keep asking if I’m okay all the time?”

  “She just cares about you, silly. And I’m kind of to blame for how she’s been acting around you lately. I may have told her to lessen her Emma-ness around you, given your current situation.”

  “Thanks a lot, Nia. I really appreciate it,” I reply with a hint of sarcasm.

  She giggles off my comment and then meets my eyes again. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you? Last chance before I head back out.”

  “I’m positive.”

  A serious look appears on her face. “Just remember, tomorrow we leave all this behind for a nice little getaway to the countryside. No media crowding around our dorm. No more dumb, gawking peers. And hopefully no more bad dreams. Just you, me, a few of our closest friends, and one seriously hot art class model with a large David who wants to reenact that clay orgasm scene from the movie Ghost with you.”

  I roll my eyes as a smile tries to curl my lips, but I fight to hide it.

  “I saw that smile starting to peek out,” she says while giving me a love tap on the arm. I send her a playful glare. “All right, I’m going, I’m going. But try to concentrate on our vacay instead of this whole mess, Laney. You’ll be much better off, trust me. You’re my best friend, girl, and I hate seeing you like this.”

  “I know. I hate feeling like this,” I respond when she begins to walk away. She turns back around and flashes me a sympathetic look.

  “Wish me luck ... and no caffeine headaches.”

  “Good luck,” I say as she closes and locks the door behind her.

  The trip to the bathroom seems like it takes forever, though it can’t be any more than twenty steps from my bed. I feel sluggish and my muscles are still tense from all the struggling in my sleep.

  Opening the bathroom door, I feel around the wall for the light switch. I flip it up and the overhead fluorescent bulbs buzz before filling the small space with bright light.

  I bring myself before the mirror to gaze at my reflection. The blue eyes staring back at me have lost some of their luster and look tired and overworked. Running my fingers through the thick red strands of my hair, I moan, succumbing to the fact that if I don’t get any sleep I’m going to look like a complete psych ward patient tomorrow when I see the demigod art model, Jared.

  Pulling my hair back into a lazy ponytail, which I never do anymore, I stare at my scar. I used to love my hair like this. Seeing it gathered back makes me long to be at a point in my life when my scar being visible doesn’t still tear me up inside, causing me to hide it underneath my hair, or some accessory, or a collar of a garment. I groan, releasing my locks and allowing them to cascade like a red, wavy waterfall onto my shoulders, covering up my least favorite part of my body.

  Movement over my shoulder in the mirror catches my eye. I focus on the reflection of the shower curtain when I notice it sway to the side. Thinking it’s just the heater kicking on and ruffling the fabric, I turn my attention back to my scar. My eyes widen when a black glove creeps out around the edge of the stark white curtain and clutches it tightly. Closing my eyes, I begin to count to five in my head like my first therapist told me to do in situations like this. This is the only thing I ever learned from him that actually seems to work.

  “You’re not there, Robbie. You’re not fucking there,” I repeat to myself in a harsh whisper. Each breath I take becomes more rapid and intense. When I reach five, my eyes spring open and hone in on the curtain’s reflection. There’s nothing there. No movement.

  Walking toward the shower, I reach out and take hold of the curtain, but hesitate to open it. Drawing in a deep breath, I pull it to the side only to find the shower empty. I back away to the counter and turn around to brace myself on it with the assistance of my hands.

  “You’re fucking losing it, Laney,” I tell my reflection as I glance up.

  Taking the bottle of pills from the little cabinet on the wall above the light switch, I retrace my steps back to the bed and plop down onto the end of it. I peruse the label on the bottle like I do every time before I take my meds, contemplating if the side effects are really worth it. The sound the pills make while tumbling around inside the container as I spin it is oddly soothing.

  “Screw it,” I mutter, dumping two tablets onto my palm. I fill my mouth with a swig of water from the bottle on the nightstand and then pop the pills in before swallowing them down.

  The clock by my bed shows 3:01 in the morning. I flop back against my pillows and click off the lamp to plunge the room into darkness. I try to clear my head of the many crazy thoughts racing through it, but to no avail. There’s really nothing I can do now until the meds work their magic and knock me out. Until then, I’ll just try to do as Nia said and think about getting away from all this crazy shit I currently call my life.

  I’m awakened by a knock at the door. I hear Nia shushing whoever’s there and asking why they didn’t text her before coming over. She lets them know I’m still sleeping and to try
and not wake me. The next two voices I hear have me rolling over to face Nia’s half of the room. Emma and Colton settle onto Nia’s bed as she begins to shove things into the open suitcase nestled between them.

  I became the new addition to this trio about three years ago when I asked for a new roommate assignment and was luckily landed with Nia, who I now consider to be my best friend. Emma and Colton were a package deal since they’ve all been friends since freshman year. Colton is the gay best friend I never had growing up in Oregon. I actually had to be told he was gay by Nia since he didn’t fit any of the preconceived notions I had about the gay stereotype. He’s such a sympathetic ear to have around, and has most girls falling all over him since he has that clean-cut, tall, dark, and handsome Clark Kent look going on, complete with black-rimmed glasses. He has the best combo of a woman’s sensitivity and a guy’s macho mentality. Nia, Emma, and I are in agreement that all of womankind has definitely lost out.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Nia says to me in a playful manner.

  “What time is it?” I manage to ask through my grogginess.

  “Two o’clock,” Emma answers, tossing her long, light-brown hair to the side. “Which means we’re here to help you pack for our trip.” Her bubbly demeanor never seems to falter, and is always present and accounted for. That’s another reason why I can only handle her in small chunks.

  “I can’t believe you guys aren’t packed yet,” Colton chimes in. “I’ve been finished for days, counting down to this trip.”

  “Yeah, but that’s only because you’re excited to finally meet your Internet boyfriend in person,” Nia teases.

  “Can you blame me? You’ve seen the new pictures he just posted, haven’t you? Wouldn’t you be excited to have that coming to see you too?” he asks.

  “True,” Nia responds.

  Through my haze, I’m able to take everything in, but still find it hard to concentrate on the people in the room while it feels like the bed’s spinning. The meds never fail to make me feel like this, so I’ve always tried to only take them as a last resort.

  “Wait, why haven’t I seen these new pictures yet?” Emma asks, her voice reaching a high pitch. She turns to me and apologizes for being loud. She really is a very nice person. She’s just a tad sweeter than I can take at times, which I know makes me sound like a horrible person. “Holy mother of all things smexy, he’s freaking gorgeous.” Emma turns to me to say sorry again.

  “It’s okay, Emma, I’m up anyway,” I reply with a slight smile.

  “Now you know why I’ve been all about this trip,” Colton says before taking his phone back from her.

  “I still can’t believe you’ve been dating for five months now, without ever meeting in person,” Emma comments while helping Nia fold a few articles of clothing.

  “It’s the technological age, Emma. People do this all the time,” Nia says, placing a few folded shirts into her suitcase.

  “I know that, Nia,” she huffs before turning back to Colton. “You have Skyped with him right? Like seen his mug for real, and not just in pictures? He is eight years your senior, and for all you know he could be a dwarfy Quasimodo ... not that there isn’t a market for that, or anything.”

  “Yes, we’ve Skyped plenty,” he replies with emphasis on plenty. “And believe me, he’s no Quasimodo.”

  “You little freak,” Nia jokes, giving him a light shove on the shoulder and causing a wide grin to sprout on his mouth.

  “In all seriousness though, I have a good feeling about this. This weekend will be the test, and maybe we’ll actually define our relationship once and for all. Because frankly that’s all I’ve been able to think about lately,” he sighs.

  “Well, I for one can’t wait to meet him,” Nia says, taking Colton’s phone in order to check out Trevor’s picture.

  “Me too, obviously,” Colton responds with a chuckle. “It’ll be nice to actually touch that stubble-filled, razor-sharp jawline of his.” His phone rings and he beams.

  “Speaking of Mr. Razor-Sharp Jaw Line,” Nia says, handing him back his phone.

  Emma laughs as Colton excuses himself to spend a little quality time with Trevor. “It sounds like we’re all in for a fun, guy-filled weekend then. You especially, Laney. Jared’s quite the catch, my friend. And you’re in luck, because he’s got a serious thing for gingers.”

  I shake my head and flash her a quick smirk while rolling my eyes. “We’ll see. Hopefully my crazy doesn’t complicate things.”

  “We’ll have none of that, missy,” Nia pipes up and Emma seems to agree. “Positivity is the only thing allowed on this trip, okay? Repeat after me, Laney ... I will have a great time this weekend, there will be no more talk of my crazy, and I will most definitely hook up with Jared.”

  I giggle at her statement.

  “Uh, we’re waiting,” Nia says, and I’m immediately met by both of their stares.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll have a great time this weekend, there will be no more talk of my crazy, and I’ll most definitely hook up with Jared. There, happy?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

  “Yes,” they reply almost in unison.

  “The only problem I foresee is the fact Colton doesn’t seem to be completely on Team Jared. I’m not really sure why though, but he rolls his eyes and gets kind of defensive every time we mention that he’s coming along this weekend,” I say, dragging myself to sit up in bed.

  “Oh, he’s probably just being overprotective of you because you’re one of his best friends. You’ve been there a lot for him through this whole Trevor thing, so he’s probably just repaying the favor. I mean, I kind of see where he’s coming from since Jared is kind of a man-whore, but hey, at least he’s a man-whore with a heart of gold, right?” Emma chimes in.

  “Hey, can you sit on this while I zip it up?” Nia asks Emma while pointing at her suitcase. Emma laughs before plopping down onto the piece of luggage. “And I completely agree with Emma, by the way.” Nia’s voice is strained as she tries to zip up the overstuffed bag. “Colton’s a very loyal friend to the one’s he loves, and you guys became really close, really fast.” A grunt escapes her lips as she finally closes the suitcase all the way. “Finished!”

  “Yeah, I guess you guys are right. Maybe it won’t be an issue.”

  “It won’t be. Just tell Colton to relax, and he will. He’ll just probably scowl from a distance, but he’ll never actually start anything,” Emma replies while leaping off from Nia’s suitcase.

  “Speak of the devil,” Nia states as we see Colton walk back into the room.

  “What lies were you all spreading while I was out?” he asks with a snarky glare.

  “Oh, nothing,” Emma replies innocently.

  When I reach the lobby of the dormitory, I’m relieved to see no sign of reporters or cameramen anywhere. Maybe the president of the school finally grew a pair and pushed his weight around to kick those vultures off campus. Or maybe they just lost interest in me. Either way, I’m completely fine with it.

  It didn’t take long for my school to become a media circus after Robbie’s release. The press even camped outside my dorm, waiting for me to leave the building so they could secure an interview with “the girl who falsely accused Robbie Jameson as The Prowler.” After my first and last tense encounter with a few reporters on my way to an early-morning lab, I decided to skip all my classes that day and the next few days as well. I quickly realized my room would be my only sanctuary from all the craziness, because not only did I have to deal with the press, but I also had most of the campus analyzing my every move. This is a small campus after all. The constant whispering as I’d pass by groups of students was doing wonders for my insecurities.

  Since it took me a little longer than expected to pack up my things, I was told to wait for Nia to pull around the side of the building with the “getaway” vehicle. This was supposed to be our secret meeting area if the media was still circling the dorm, but now I feel less covert agent-y than I would have with our earlier sce
nario.

  I watch through the little window in the lobby’s back door for Nia to drive up. The gentle snowfall outside creates a serene view of the courtyard across the street. I love to sit on the ornate wooden benches there while studying because it’s always quiet, and the trees surrounding the area provide the perfect amount of shade. I’m always surprised when I see it empty and void of students, especially in the springtime.

  Taking in a delicate breath, I begin to think about the trip. The moment bad thoughts of Robbie and the looming anniversary start to invade my mind, I fight them back.

  This trip will be good for me. It has to be. Stay positive, Laney.

  My phone buzzes in my coat pocket and I pull it out to see my mom’s calling. I don’t think there’s been a single day since the attack that I don’t talk to her on the phone. She’s been my emotional rock through this whole thing, and it’s always nice to hear her voice, especially since I almost lost that luxury about four years ago. Now I don’t take her for granted. I used to think of her as this overbearing matriarch figure, but now she’s one of my closest friends. Naturally she’s worried about me going away this weekend, and I don’t really blame her. I’m a little concerned myself to be honest. My dad on the other hand was never the touchy-feely type, and was never known to even give a hug to his own daughter. After the attack though, he went through an emotional transformation to the point of almost being borderline smothering. One thing the attack did teach all of us was that life is a gift, and each day you should be thankful you’re alive and surrounded by the ones you love, because in an instant it can all disappear.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, answering the phone with a smile.

  “Hi, dear. Are you all set for your big trip?” she asks, but I can hear the concern in her voice.

  “Yep. I’m all packed and just waiting to be picked up by Nia.”

  “Good to hear. Well, I won’t keep you long, I just wanted to check in and see how things were going,” she says, but I sense there’s more she’s not telling me.