Page 2 of Holding On To Good

Or that rumble could’ve been disbelief. A sound meant to convey his suspicion that there was more going on in her head than she was letting on.

Who knew which was right? Boys were strange and mysterious creatures, even ones you’d known forever.

He said something else, but as he spoke, he reached up to scratch the back of his head and his T-shirt rode up, revealing the hard ridges of his lower abs, and all she could hear was the rushing of her blood, the frantic thump of her pulse. All she could do was stare at that exposed strip of skin, the light dusting of dark gold hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, her mouth dry, the prickling sensation returning with a vengeance.

“Huh?” she asked, dragging her attention up to his face, but he still had his hand in his hair, the fingers threaded through the brown strands, and her gaze caught on his rounded bicep, stretching the sleeve of his shirt. The skin on his inner arm was pale and looked incredibly soft, a vivid contrast to the hardness of the muscle beneath it. “What?”

He lowered his arm, his brown eyes narrowing. “A drink,” he said succinctly, but without the least bit of exasperation. It took more than someone acting flighty and inattentive to make Urban lose his cool. The boy’s well of patience ran deep. “Do you want one?”

“Yes,” she blurted, oddly breathless. Increasingly flustered. “A drink would be great.”

She tried to meet his eyes, she really did, but he was frowning at her thoughtfully, as if trying to figure out what, exactly, had caused her recent mental break, and she was terrified of giving something away. Of him seeing the truth before she’d even had a chance to process it.

Before she’d had a chance to decide what she was going to do with it.

Picking up her pencil, she pretended to focus on her homework, pursing her lips, beetling her brow, tapping the eraser end of the pencil against her mouth—the whole deal.

But he didn’t move. Just stood over her, big and broad, silent and curious.

Patient.

She inhaled carefully and forced herself to glance up. “Whatever you’re having is fine,” she assured him and even managed a small, serene smile, as if all was right with her world.

Nothing to see here, buddy. Move along now.

“You okay?” he asked slowly, an unenthusiastic inquisitor forced to do the unthinkable—try to figure out the confusing and erratic workings of the female mind.

And now she had to lie to him.

Sure, she lied to herself when she had to. A teenager’s psyche was fragile and underdeveloped and needed to be protected. Especially when the truth was too painful, too scary to deal with. Believing a few harmless not-quite-truths was a small price to pay for maintaining a healthy emotional and psychological balance during what was arguably the most important stage of one’s development.

It was also perfectly normal.

Her mom was a psychiatrist, so Willow knew these things.

So, no. She didn’t have a problem lying to herself. And she did, occasionally, stretch the truth or withhold some of it when dealing with her parents. But that was only to save them from knowing certain details of her life that would cause them grief, disappointment or anger.

Coincidentally, that flexibility with honesty and the judicious application of certain facts had the added benefit of saving Willow from their grief, disappointment and anger, too.

It also saved her from having her driving privileges revoked.

Win-win.

But lying to Urban?

Never. Not about anything.

Well, unless you counted what had happened between them on Valentine’s Day. Which she didn’t. Count, that was. Besides, that wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the truth.

Big difference.

Sending him a wide, toothy smile, she held his gaze. “I’m fine.”

She hoped this lying-to-him thing didn’t become a habit. If you couldn’t trust your best friend with every part of you, what was the point?

Except Urban’s frowny, skeptical look said he wasn’t trusting her, either. At least, not about this.

There were only two ways to end a standoff when he got that stubborn glint in his eyes. Surrender.

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