Page 88 of Liars

That was who she was to me.

An enemy.

Two months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to use her. I wouldn’t have cared. I would’ve taken what I wanted and walked away without a second thought.

And yet, I felt pieces of myself slipping away. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about using Kaylor for personal gain. I would have slept with her and never spoken another word to her. I would have used her vulnerability.

But now?

I had no fucking clue what I was doing. What I felt. I knew what I didn’t want to feel.

Scowling, I pulled out my phone.

I needed a distraction. Any distraction.

God, I hated the club during peak hours. I preferred the day when only the bored husbands or the unemployed lounged in front of the stage. I couldn’t stand the annoying slot machines and the stench of booze, sweat, and sex.

I should have picked her up in my car, but the truth was, I didn’t want any trace of some random girl in my space.

I shouldn’t have called her at all. I knew it the second I saw her teetering through the club in heels too high for her ankles and a dress short enough to be mistaken for a shirt. She was eager, smiling, doe-eyed. And completely fucking wrong.

“Did anyone see you?” I demanded as she breezed past me into the room.

She shook her head. “I wore the wig just like you said and went through the back door.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d snuck into the club to meet me, but it was the first I’d ever asked her to come in disguise.

I leaned against the leather couch, my fingers tapping against my glass. Whiskey burned its way down my throat, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. More of something that could make me forget.

Her name? I didn’t remember. Didn’t care.

The only reason I had called her was because I needed an anchor—something, someone to remind me that Kaylor wasn’t under my skin. That she wasn’t still lingering in my head.

But even now, as this girl slid onto my lap, all I saw was Kaylor, and I fucking hated myself for it.

“I’m surprised you called. It’s been a while,” the girl purred, pulling off the wig and shaking out her natural raven hair.

Now that she was here, I wanted to tell her to go. What I thought I wanted no longer seemed appealing.

Her perfume was off.

Her hair color was wrong.

The only thing about her that slightly resembled Kaylor was her height. It was fine. I didn’t have plans to look at her face.

I reached for the wig she discarded, my voice grating when I said, “Put it back on.” I stared at the girl sitting naked in my lap, her legs just wide enough to leave nothing to the imagination, but that was the point. She came knowing damn well what was expected.

She giggled, thinking this was some kind of kink, but my stomach twisted as she pulled the platinum strands over her dark ones. Now, if I squinted or drank another few glasses, she might almost look like her.

I grabbed her hips, pulling her closer, trying to force myself into this moment, into anyone but Kaylor. The girl’s lips wereeager, pressing against my neck, moving with practiced ease. She knew the rules. Under no circumstances was she to try to kiss me. Everything was game but my lips. I didn’t kiss random girls.

But you had no problem kissing the one person your lips shouldn’t be touching,my conscience was all too happy to remind me.

Her nails scraped down my shoulders, her hands fisting my shirt, tugging, trying to get closer. I squeezed my eyes shut. Flashes of her. Kaylor.

The defiance in her eyes. The way she gritted her teeth every time I got too close. The fucking way she made me want to ruin her, own her, hate her.

And this? This wasn’t Kaylor.

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