Page 117 of The Deceptions
I take a deep breath, expecting questions. Or more looks. Or something other than his silence. But Simon shakes off his initial shock and runs to grab me a fresh towel from the rack—my hero.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, bending down and covering my chest and lady bits with the towel. "Oh, your bruise! That heathen!" he gasps, holding a hand to his chest like he's realizing little old me—Olivia—beat a grown man's ass. "I can't believe..." He shakes his head.
Yup. There it is. It's all dawning on him now. Every piece of me is this girl who got into the ring with a massive man on the order of my ex-best friend. Okay, he doesn't know that piece of the puzzle yet. But he might soon. Hopefully not, though. Fuck. I'm going to have to tell someone in Veritas what happened.
How am I going to explain this to him? The great Viola fromShe's the Manrings in my mind, and how she played it off about her brother. I could use the same excuse, except for a little creative tweak.I'm here in my brother's place because he's an idiot and went backpacking through Europe— AKA sticking his dick in every skirt he saw.What else can I say?Oh, I'm here on a super secret mission to investigate my ex-best friends and their devious frat while trying to get into their good graces and join their gang so I can take down their father. Who, by the way, killed me about five years ago. Want to see my grave?
Yeah, that'll go over really well.
Not.
"My body? No. My ego? Probably a little," I groan, holding the towel tightly to my body. It's not like he hasn't seen it all now.
"Oli..." he trails off. Here it comes. My body stiffens. "Do you want me to help you up?" His Adam's apple bobs when he holds out a hand for me to take.
I blow out a breath. So not what I expected.
"You're not going to ask?" I grunt when I take his hand, and he slowly brings me to the edge of the tub.
My entire body screams at me. Places I didn't even know existed pulse with my heart, whooshing in my ears. Fuck. I think I have a damn concussion. The world spins as I hold the towel tightly with one hand until he lets my hand go and sits beside me on the ruined shower curtain—no doubt soaking his soft sleep pants.
"Not really my business," he says softly with a reassuring smile. "You are who you are."
You know what? I take it back. Thank fuck it was Simon who walked in on me and not Wade. Or shit, Dane.
Sincerity reflects back at me in his eyes, shining bright and conveying his message. He's not talking out of his ass. He's being real about his statement. Maybe because he's faced backlash for who he is and loves, which he shouldn't, by the way. We're all human beings with different tastes, ideas, and hopes. Some people look in the mirror and don't see themselves looking back at them. So, they make those changes to feel how they feel on the inside. I can't pretend to know how that feels. The closest I can relate to that feeling is when I look in the mirror wearing my disguise, I know that's not who I am. The day I get to be Olivia again, I'll be happy. And that's what everyone should feel when they look deep into their eyes through the mirror.
Happiness. Comfort. The real version of themselves.
I blush a little, holding my aching head. "Thanks, Si," I murmur.
He grins. "I only judge people on their actions, and you, Oliver, are an outstanding person." He lightly shoulder-bumps me. "Speaking of, do you remember what happened last night? I have a very foggy memory of puking in the woods and stumbling home..." he trails off. "Did I fall through a window?" he murmurs, rubbing the back of his head suspiciously and wincing. "Yeah, I think I fell through a window. And Jordy..." Hurt tinges his tone when he looks down at his fingers, rubbing them together nervously.
Oh, right. He was absolutely wasted last night. Poor guy. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't remember a damn thing, either.
"Jordy took care of you and made sure you hydrated and all that good stuff." I peek a look at him, and he nods thoughtfully.
"And he is...?" On a case, but I can't exactly say that. Fuck, I don't even know what Jordy told him.
"He was really sorry he had to go but was called back to work." Usually, Jordy doesn't mix with my cases. He's usually either on it with me and we're playing cousins or whatever. But this time around, my partner is in a different city, chasing someone else.
"Right," Simon says, nodding. "On-call railroad worker stationed 30 minutes away. He said he might have to go back." Simon puffs out his bottom lip with a sigh.
"Exactly," I say. "It's nice he was so close. Too bad he had to leave. He said he'd visit soon when he got some time off work." Honestly, I'll miss his annoying ass. But at least I have Simon in on my secret now. It honestly feels like I added another ally to my short list of friends here. I know I can trust him.
I rub my temple when everything continues to ache, including my damn period pains.
"You sure you're going to be okay?" Simon asks softly. "You took a hell of a spill."
"I think I just need that hot shower, some bed, ice cream, and maybe a Buffy marathon." That solves everything. Especially this pesky period that snuck up on me. Thank you, stress, for giving me the gift that keeps on giving.
Simon immediately jumps to his feet. "You said Buffy? Oh, Oli." He claps his hands. "Do that," he waves toward the shower, "Then, meet me back in your room for a marathon."
I grin at him when he turns to leave. "Hey, Si. Thanks for..." I gesture to myself. It's nice, I don't have to explain or lie to him. I can't exactly say I'm investigating this school for a secret government agency, and they insisted I go undercover as a man.
For the next few hours, Simon climbs into my bed and watchesBuffy the Vampire Slayerwith me on my laptop. We eat junk food, order in McDonalds, and relax until it's time for the party to start. By then, my period symptoms have gone into hibernation. Thanks to the multitude of vitamins, Midol, and mytrusted heating pad. I should be good for the next few hours of partying. Then, I can hibernate again.
"You're really feeling okay to go to the party?" Simon asks, waltzing into my room after changing into jeans and a nice button-down. His brown hair is tousled to perfection, looking every bit messy, yet, dignified.
