Page 2 of Web of Lies
Tristan:
Let me guess… there’s at least a Lambo in the parking lot. Has to be! If it’s anything like my school. They are EVERYWHERE.
Isnort,scanningthestudent parking lot packed to the brim with over-the-top sports cars decked out in weird kits and upgrades. Teenagers don’t need those kinds of luxuries, do they? I mean, I know I don’t. My little bug serves me well. Although it doesn’t have the speed of sports cars, it gets me from point A to point B. Speed would be nice—Ireallylike the speed.
Me (Addi):
Fine. There are like 12 here. Happy? It’s crazy.
Tristan:
I fucking knew it. You can’t go to some fancy-schmancy prep school without it. How about…. a Porsche?
I shake my head, scanning the parking lot again, looking for it like I’m in a stupid game of eye spy. He enjoys this way too much, but I can’t help the smile spreading across my face. My best friend knows how to calm my nerves by distracting me.
Me:
Of course. There are only two tho. The rest are beamers and Benz and ridiculous red convertibles.
Tristan:
Don’t hate. I like Porsches. So unique. So fast. And I got one. It gets me laid every timeeeeee!!
Me:
Plleassseeee, don’t tell me about your gross conquests. I might puke a little. In fact…I did a little in my mouth. Gag.
Tristan:
RIGHHHHTTTTT your virgin ears and everything.
Me:
You are a dick.
Tristan:
I have one! A NICE one too btw. The ladies love it. Bow-chick-a-bowwow. *Winky face*. I’m an expert dick-user—a procurer of fine thrusts and busts. Haha. BTW gotta go. Football shit is going on. Enjoy your holier than thou new prep school. I hope your senior year is magical, like you. Wink. P.S. Let’s play some Angel Warrior tonight?
Me:
Please never say thrusts and busts again. I might need to bleach my brain. yeah, yeah, have fun with football and I can’t wait to kick some ass!
Tristan:
We’ll see, beautiful. Be good.
Me:
NEVER!
“Tristan again?” I lock eyes with my very skeptical sister.
Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, Callie raises a brow. My body shudders at the contact, a searing burn races across my flesh from the connection, itching like crazy. It drives me mad, like tiny ants marching up and down my arms and back. Taking a deep soothing breath, I remind myself it offends my sister when I pull away. She’ll frown at me with hurt in her eyes. So, I try to see it from my sister’s point of view. But being touched, even in a small hug, sends my nerves into overdrive. I need a shirt that says, ‘No touchy.’ Maybe then people will get the hint.
“Always.” I nod, placing my phone into my pocket.
“Are you ever going to meet him?” Callie asks, raising an eyebrow, hoping to fish for answers from me.
