Page 1 of A Lesson in Deceit
Prologue
Isure as shit didn’t look like the picture on my fake ID.
I would very likely be turned away with a stern look, while I trudged back home with my head down. The big, bulky guy in front of me was clearly going to see that I should not be here. Arcane was one of the smaller bars in downtown San Francisco, but apparently this Saturday everyone wanted a night out, so it was packed. The dress I decided to wear was one that I’d bought spontaneously on a shopping trip with my best friend, Marianne, who confirmed that I might need the black mini dress—that showed way too much of my umber skin—one day. I was starting to rethink our decision when the wind began to pick up causing me to pull my slouchy jean jacket tighter around my chest.
Marianne lightly touched my elbow as she stood next to me. That was her subtle way of telling me to get my shit together and stop fidgeting. I casually turned my head so I could look at her, my braids swinging over my shoulder. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail that moved like a pendulum when she walked. She made sure that both of our faces were decorated to her level of perfection before we left my room, while I activelygave my mother very vague answers through my closed door about where we were going.
Well-manicured fingers entered my vision as my best friend grabbed my ID. I looked up at the buff man and he nodded towards the entrance. I blinked, and then blinked again, because if I was being honest, that ID was fucking awful. The worst hundred bucks I’d ever spent. Marianne grabbed my hand and dragged me inside the dimly lit bar, my low heels clicking against the floor. She moved us far enough away from the door and to an empty spot near the wall. Looking over the throngs of people talking at the bar and dry humping on the small dance floor, it only made me even sleepier than I already was. I liked going out, but with it being already April and high school ending in a few weeks, finals, and the dread of college… I wasn’t in the mood.
But when your friend calls you crying, spewing an entire story about how her ex-girlfriend is scum and she needs girls’ night, you do what you have to do.
Marianne leaned in, speaking into my ear. “Let’s go to the bar.”
I nodded, starting to head over there but she reached out and stopped me. I turned around confused. If I took any sort of elongated pause, I would probably beg her on my knees for us to go home and turn our girls’ night into eating frozen pizza on my couch back in San Jose. She gently tucked one of my braids behind my ear. “Thanks for doing this. I know you’ve been a little freaked out about graduation. Ainsley is just…” she rubbed her pink painted lips together, trying to find the words to describe her on again, off again, but currently off again ex-girlfriend. “She makes me so fucking mad.”
I let out a laugh. “How about you buy me a drink to thank me and then we can scope out someone new that won’t have youcalling me crying at two in the morning?” I grabbed her wrist, yanking her over to the bar.
We had to weave through a few people before I quickly claimed two empty seats, nearly throwing her onto the leather stool. Purple lights streamed against the brick walls and mist traveled along the ground from some machines in the corners of the building. Arcane had one large bar that had seating wrapped all the way around in an oval shape, while the dance floor situated itself near the left side and a bunch of lounge seating was on the other. My dress rode up my thighs more than I would have liked, but I did my best to stay comfortable.
I noticed Marianne jump off her stool, walking around me. “I’m going to the bathroom. Get what you want and keep the tab open. Please and thank you.” I gave her one solid nod, damn well knowing that the words ‘keep the tab open’ were not something my eighteen-year-old self should be considering. I looked down the long granite bar top, hoping to spot the bartender. He was near the end, speaking to a large group of people, each of them shouting their orders, which told me I wouldn’t be served any time soon. There was another bartender near the left side that I attempted to make eye contact with, but I wasn’t good at this so that didn’t work either.
I just wanted a stupid Sex on the Beach, nothing overly complicated. I was patient—at least that’s what I told myself when I quite literallyhadto be.
I closed my eyes for a moment, pretending that I was back home with cheap sugar filled snacks and an even cheaper wine cooler. I popped my eyes open when I heard a small clang, catching sight of the cocktail in front of me.
“Sex on the Beach,” the bartender offered, giving me a nod before he went to check on someone else. I blinked at the drink, reaching out to tentatively touch it.How the hell…?
“You look disappointed,” a deep voice inquired to my right. I felt my shoulders stiffen a bit in alarm, but more so because I’ve never had a simple voice melt my insides. I moved a chunk of my dark braids off my shoulder and let them hit my back before I turned to face who this was.
He settled himself onto Marianne’s stool, running a hand through his messy waves of dark hair. Small pieces of it curled and hit his forehead. I noticed two silver studs in his ears. One of his elbows was propped up onto the bar, and his dark green eyes were so intensely set on me that I had a hard time maintaining eye contact. I didn’t back down from his staring; he was hot, but he didn’t intimidate me.
“I’m not. I just…um…”
“You just what?” he pressed, leaning back a bit, regarding me. I noticed the way his eyes quickly scanned my body, a look of appreciation appearing on his face. He slid his index finger over his chin, giving me a glimpse at some of the tattoos that adorned his knuckles. I let my eyes travel up his hands to his exposed arms that were covered in tattoos as well. There was a skull, various vibrantly colorful roses, and even a chain in grayscale.
“Not a Sex on the Beach fan?” There was a slight mischievousness in the way he asked.
“No, it’s my favorite, but I just didn’t order it.” I looked over at him, but his face never morphed into confusion like it should have at my answer.
“Well, I guess whoever ordered it for you got really lucky then.” He raised one of his dark brows, shrugging one of his shoulders. He casually raised two of his fingers, calling the bartender over. The young guy hustled over and leaned forward to hear my dark-haired stranger’s order. “Whiskey, whatever is your best one.”
He let his eyes fall on me again, angling his body more so that it felt like we were in our own little bubble. The grey shirt thathe wore tugged against his arms and clung to him like a second skin. I could almost see more tattoos peeking out the top of the shirt; I was way too interested in knowing what the design was.
“I hardly think you should be drinking it anyway since you’re underage.”
My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I whipped my head around, hoping no one heard him. “Excuse me, why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
My mouth gaped open at his utter audacity. He was correct, but I didn’t want to give him any sort of satisfaction with that fact. “I hardly think you should be speaking to an underage girl, so I think this conversation is over.” I shook my head and confidently grabbed my free cocktail, taking a long, much needed drink.
I heard a rumble of laughter next to me which caused me to put my glass down and zero in on the dimple that appeared in his cheek. The bartender returned with his drink, setting it lightly on the bar. The presumptuous stranger wrapped his long fingers around the glass and brought it to his lips. I couldn’t help but watch him swallow the whiskey, the way his throat moved or the way his lips wrapped around the edge of the glass. I shouldn’t have been thinking about my mouth on his neck or what his lips would feel like on certain parts of my body, but here I was being a fucking weirdo.
Another fit of choked laughter came from his throat as he set his drink down, tapping his fingers against the glass. Both his eyebrows were raised as if he was surprised. I needed to find a way out of this, or for fucking Marianne to come back. I eyed the area where the bathroom was located, noticing the long line of women.Damnit.
“I’m only twenty-one, so I’m pretty sure I’m free to speak to an eighteen-year-old.”
I had started to reach into my bag for my phone when I froze. “How do you know how old I am?” My eyes turned into slits as I stared at him. I wasn’t interesting enough to have a stalker, but this guy was treading dangerous territory,
