All the Pretty Lies Read online

  “Oh my god, Callum, Poppy.” Taylor Brines intercepts our path as we enter the kitchen. “I’m so glad you guys made it.”

  “Um, thanks.” I shuffle my feet nervously.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you at school. Some of us girls are going prom dress shopping next week and thought you might like to join.”

  Has this girl officially lost it? Not only is this the second time she’s ever spoken to me, but she thinks I’d want to go dress shopping with her?

  “Actually, I, uh, um, I’m going with April and Cam,” I manage to spit out.

  “Well, no worries. We’ll just have to find another excuse to hang out. Speaking of.” She steps up directly next to me. “Let me show you around. I’m assuming you’ve never been to Jeana’s before.”

  “Right, I haven’t.”

  “Perfect.” She slides her arm through mine before her face turns up to Callum. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a few, do you?” She bats her eyelashes at him.

  Despite the look on my face telling him to please say no, he grins and nods, releasing my hand. “Sure.”

  “Thanks. You’re the best. Come on, Poppy.” She tugs my arm, giving me no choice but to follow after her.

  Taylor shows me every single room in the house. It’s like she’s showing it off even though it’s not her house. I smile at the appropriate times and do my best to seem interested, but by the time we make our way back to the kitchen nearly thirty minutes later, I can feel my patience starting to waver.

  Thank god for April. We no more than step into the kitchen and she’s there, clearly reading the anguish on my face from having to play nice with Taylor Brines.

  “Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” she says, stepping up in front of us. “Can we talk for a minute? Alone?” She glances over to Taylor.

  “Say no more, girls.” She smiles. “I need to go track down my man anyway.” She wiggles her fingers in a little wave before she turns, exiting the room.

  “Thank you.” I let out an audible sigh.

  “No problem. I could tell you were seconds away from losing your shit.” She laughs.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, following her to the counter where several bottles of alcohol are lined in a row, a various selection of soda and mixers next to them.

  “Oh, nothing. I just needed to get rid of her.” She grabs two cups and sets one down in front of me. “Where’s Callum?”

  “No idea. Taylor stole me not long after we got here. Last I saw him he was in here,” I say, watching April pour a healthy amount of vodka into each of our cups before topping them off with some Sprite. “Where’s Brock?”

  “He’s in the back playing some stupid video game.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing him on my tour.” I laugh.

  “Well, cheers.” April grabs her cup, waiting for me to pick mine up before clinking hers with mine. “By the way, you look amazing,” she says, tipping her cup to her lips.

  I follow suit, taking a tentative drink, cringing at how strong it is.

  “Thank you. Cam dressed me.” I gesture down to the dress. “Speaking of Cam, have you seen her around?” I ask, holding my cup with both hands in front of myself.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Any sign of Tripp?”

  “I haven’t seen him either.”

  I think back to the locked bedroom upstairs that Taylor wasn’t able to show me, which at the time I assumed meant it was off limits. Now I’m wondering if Tripp and Cam didn’t find a private place to sneak off to.

  “Well I think we both know what that means.” I grin, taking another drink.

  “There you are.” I turn at the sound of Brock’s voice.

  “Here I am.” April giggles when he slides in beside her and kisses her neck.

  “Hey, have you seen Callum?” I ask Brock, shifting from one foot to the other. The heels I let Camila talk me into wearing are starting to hurt my feet.

  “Yeah, I think he’s out back.”

  “Okay, I’m gonna go see if I can track him down.” I give April a nod and hand Brock my cup. “Drink this,” I tell him before heading off in the direction of the back door. Unfortunately, that means going through the living room which is currently a dance floor. All the furniture has been pushed to the side and there are dozens of people all crowded together, a cheap disco light spinning over their heads.

  I do my best to weave in and out without knocking into anyone, but it proves to be more difficult than it sounds. I get about halfway through the room when a girl steps backward into my path, the heel of her shoe going into the top of my foot as she steps down.

  A little yelp escapes my throat as I tumble forward, nearly face planting into the floor if not for the guy in front of me who catches me by the arm as I go down.

  “Whoa.” He helps me upright and only then do I realize his size.

  He’s a big dude. Well over six foot and while I wouldn’t call him overweight, he’s definitely carrying a few extra pounds. I’m pretty sure he plays on the football team. He’s not a senior, I know that much for sure.

  “Ouch.” I look down at my foot where my skin is scuffed from her heel, thinking that’s going to bruise. “Thank you.” I glance back up to his face.

  “No problem. I’ll take a pretty girl like you falling into my lap any day of the week. I’m Chance.” He inches in closer, his hand going to my hip.

  “I, um, I have to go, Chance.” I try to step around him, but his large frame blocks me in.

  “What’s your rush?” He leans down, alcohol thick on his breath. “Dance with me.” He starts swaying against me, his other hand flattening on the small of my back as he pulls me in way too close.

  I try to push against his chest, but he’s solid and doesn’t budge a single inch.

  “I really... I really need to go,” I yell over the music, trying to break free.

  When the hand on my back slips to my ass, my entire body tenses. I dig my heels into the floor, preparing to fight this guy off, when his hold on me disappears. It’s like one minute I’m engulfed by him and the next he’s gone.

  My gaze goes upward to see Callum’s fist fly through the air, connecting with Chance’s jaw. He stumbles backward, losing his footing before hitting the ground on a hard thud. The music skids to a stop and everyone rushes to get out of the way as Callum climbs on top of Chance and starts hitting him over and over again.

  I stand motionless, afraid to move. I think I might be in shock.

  Thankfully, a couple of guys jump in after a few seconds, pulling Callum off of the big guy groaning on the floor, blood pouring from his mouth and nose.

  “What the fuck?” Chance touches his face and pulls his hand away, looking at his blood-soaked fingers. “What the fuck?” he repeats, his stunned gaze going to Callum who’s still hovering over him. Blake is holding one of his arms while another guy I don’t know has his other.

  “Yeah, my thoughts exactly, Devaney. You think you’re going to put your hands on my fucking girl and I’m not going to bash your fucking face in.”

  “Man, I didn’t even know she was your girl.”

  Callum rears back and kicks him square in the ribs.

  “Bullshit, everyone knows she’s my girl,” he seethes, anger tugging at his features.

  “You’re right. You’re right.” Chance holds his hands up when Callum prepares to kick him again. “I knew she was your girl. I’m drunk. I fucked up. I’m sorry, okay?”

  Callum shakes off the guys holding him and leans down over Chance. “Let this be a lesson to you. You do not fuck with what isn’t yours. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal clear. Crystal clear,” Chance stutters out, turning his head to spit blood on the floor.

  Callum’s heated gaze flashes to me and before I know it, he’s next to me, grabbing my arm. The next, I’m being hauled outside.

  “What the fuck was that?” He gets right in my face, causing my already ra
cing heart to kick up another notch.

  “I... I was trying to find you. Some girl stepped on my foot and I fell into him.” I gesture to my foot which is starting to bruise. “He wouldn’t let go of me after he caught me.”

  “Shit. Are you okay?” All the anger fades from his face and he kneels down, tugging my heel off before inspecting my foot.

  “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch from the thin heel of her shoe.”

  “It’s bruising.”

  “Probably from where she put her weight down on top of my foot.” I hiss when he presses gently around the discolored area.

  “Think we should get it looked at?” he asks, sliding my shoe back on.

  “No, it’s fine. It might be a little sore tomorrow but it’s okay. Really. Now why don’t you tell me what the hell that was all about?” I point to the door of the house.

  “He put his hands on you.” He slowly straightens back into a stand.

  “And? It’s not like I’m your real girlfriend,” I whisper as to not be overheard by some of the other party goers who have congregated outside. “Don’t you think that was a bit much? You might have broken his nose.”

  “Serves him right. And as far as you being my girlfriend, if this was real, that’s exactly how I would have acted.” I ignore the sting I feel from his words.

  If this was real...

  “I thought the point was to make sure everyone believed it,” he continues. “If I had let that shit fly, it would have killed this whole thing in an instant.”

  “So you beat some guy’s face in for trying to dance with me to keep up the ruse?” I ask, uncertainty in my voice.

  Even saying it sounds insane.

  There has to be more, right? Did it make him jealous? Did seeing that guy’s hands on me drive him into a blind rage? Could it be that maybe this is more to him than he’s leading on?

  I’m grasping at straws, I know. But I’m desperate. I want so badly for him to look at me and tell me he did it because I am his girl. And not just for show. But for real.

  “Pretty much.” He blows out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “Come on. I can take you home.”

  “Take me home? What about Tripp and Camila?”

  Our conversation is interrupted when Brock pushes his way through the door.

  “Hey, man. What the fuck? I heard you just laid Devaney out.”

  “You heard right.” If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was proud of his actions. “Can you do me a solid and give Tripp and Camila a ride home? I wanna get Poppy out of here.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Brock nods once before disappearing back inside the house.

  “Do you need to be home at any certain time?” Callum’s gaze comes back to me. To which I reply only with a knowing look. “Right. Of course you don’t.” He snorts out a laugh, though there’s no humor in the sound. “What do you say we go do something?”

  “Do something?” I question, a smile tugging at my lips.

  “Well, it really would be a shame to waste that dress.”

  “It is pretty fantastic, isn’t it?” I fake a confidence that I don’t really possess.

  “It really is.” His eyes do a long rake over my body before coming back up to my face.

  “So, what did you have in mind?”

  “Let’s just see where the night takes us, shall we?”

  “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t had anything to drink.”

  “No, I mean your hand.” I gesture to his hand, his knuckles red and swollen.

  “Well shit.” He glances down as if just now realizing that he has some battle wounds of his own. He opens his fist and closes it a couple of times. “It’ll be fine. What do you say? You in?”

  “Let’s do it.” I turn, about to head to the car when Callum’s fingers close around my forearm, halting my movement.

  “Hey, P.” He gently pulls me back to him.

  “Yeah?” My breath hitches when he leans down, his lips a whisper away.

  Without a word, his mouth closes down over mine. And even though it may be just for show, I lose myself to the sensation all the same. Because when Callum kisses me, there is no fake or real.

  There’s just him...

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  POPPY

  “WHERE ARE WE GOING?” I look over at Callum as he pulls into an on-street parking spot and kills the engine of the Jeep.

  “Well,” he unlatches his seatbelt and turns toward me, “I thought maybe we could do a little getting to know each other.”

  “Getting to know each other?” I lift a brow. “Didn’t we try that already on the way home from the lake? Pretty sure we talked all of twenty minutes the entire three-hour drive.”

  “Things are different now.”

  “They are?”

  He chuckles. “Just come on.” He throws open the driver’s door and waits at the front of the Jeep for me to join him.

  “You know, for a guy that just beat the crap out of someone, you seem quite relaxed,” I point out, not shying away when Callum takes my hand, wrapping his fingers around mine.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Doubt it’ll be the last.” He shrugs.

  “Men,” I grumble playfully.

  “So,” he ignores my comment, “you hungry by chance?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Good, because we’ve reached our first destination.” He slows to a stop, hitching his thumb toward the pizza place on our right.

  “Mario’s?” I question.

  “My favorite restaurant in town.” He pivots toward the door. “Have you eaten here before?”

  “Who hasn’t? Besides, I thought your favorite restaurant was that little burger joint down the street,” I say, nodding when he holds the door open and gestures for me to go inside.

  “It was. And yes, I still do enjoy a good burger and shake from there from time to time, but Mario’s took the top spot a couple years back.” He smiles down at me. “See, you’re learning new things about me already.”

  For it being nearly eight-thirty, the little family owned pizza parlor is booming. Nearly every seat in the small dining area is taken.

  “Why don’t you go find us a seat and I’ll order. Any preference on toppings?”

  “No, whatever is fine.”

  “And to drink.”

  “Just whatever they have in diet.”

  “Coming right up.” He gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it to make his way to the counter.

  I scour the room, spotting a booth along the back wall being cleaned by an employee. I immediately head in that direction, waiting until she’s finished wiping down the table before sliding into the booth.

  I watch Callum from across the room. I swear, it doesn’t matter where we are, he always stands out. Like a bright beacon, drawing everyone in.

  His eyes are drawn down to the cell phone in his hand, his fingers flying across the screen at rapid speed. I briefly wonder who he’s talking to but try not to think about it too much. It’s probably one of the guys checking in after what happened at the party. I can’t even entertain the idea that he might be texting another girl.

  When he makes his way toward me a couple of minutes later, two drinks in his hands, I avert my gaze in an effort to cover the fact that I’ve been checking him out the entire time I’ve been sitting here.

  “Diet Coke.” He sets my glass in front of me before taking a seat across from me.

  “Thank you.”

  “I got meat lover’s. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Good.”

  A long moment of silence passes over us.

  “So,” I clear my throat, “you said tonight was about getting to know each other better. Obviously, your favorite restaurant has changed since we were young. What else is different?”

  “There are not enough hours in the night to answer that question thoroughly.” He gives me a knowing look.r />
  “Okay fine, start small. Favorite color still blue?”

  “Yep. Yours still orange?”

  “It is.” I nod.

  “Favorite movie?”

  “That’s a hard one.” I tap my chin like I’m really thinking about it.

  “It is? And here I thought your answer would be Princess Bride without hesitation.”

  I laugh, not surprised that he remembers. I made him watch that movie probably a hundred times over the course of our friendship.

  “Okay, you got me. It’s still Princess Bride,” I admit. “Favorite band?”

  “Don’t have one.” He peels the paper off his straw and pops it into his drink.

  “Who doesn’t have a favorite band?”

  “Have you ever known me to be much into music?”

  I think about that for a long moment.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I like music, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t have any specific band or artist that I seek out. I just listen to whatever’s on the radio or playing wherever I am. What about you? And please don’t tell me it’s still The Jonas Brothers.”

  “It’s not.” I giggle. “Though Joe Jonas definitely has it going on.”

  “I won’t disagree with you there.” He smirks.

  “Come again?” I nearly choke on my drink.

  “What? Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I’m blind. If I were a chick, I’d totally bang Joe Jonas.”

  “Will you say that again and let me record it? Might make for some useful blackmail in the future.”

  “Not a chance.” He leans back in the booth, his features smooth and relaxed.

  “Bastille.”

  “Bas-what?” He cocks his head to the side.

  “My favorite band. It’s Bastille.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of them.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard them before and didn’t realize that’s who it was. I’ll play them for you sometime.”

  “Okay.” He lifts his cup, pressing the straw between his lips in a way that draws my gaze to his mouth. He takes a long sip then sets the cup back onto the table. “Favorite hobby?”