Page 82 of The Deceptions
And so, I do. I jump into his arms with a squeak, trying to be as quiet as I can so my father doesn’t hear us. I nestle my face into his neck, taking in his clean scent.
“Thank you, Mack,” I murmur, gently kissing his cheek.
“Anything for you, Livy. I still can’t believe he put bars on your windows. Too bad he can’t keep me out. I always find a way.” I feel the shake of his head from where I’m snuggled tightly in, and his hands tighten around me. “Now, let’s go sit under the stars.”
No. That can’t be right. The map said this was named Bryer Hall. Not Livy. Not this…
Why is it this?
A bronze plaque sits in the weathered brick, and my breath catches in my throat.
To a loving friend who never let the world dim her shine. You will be missed. Until we meet again on the other side. 2-2-4
I’m going to be sick. That’s all there is to it. Every fucking turn I make; there’s something here to remind me of who I was and who stabbed me in the back–or throat, more like it. They’re everywhere. Every damn step of the way.
How can I escape my past when the reminders are planted on every molecule of this town?
I squeeze my eyes shut, holding back the bile burning the back of my throat. More memories run through my mind as I blink up at the name. It isn’t until someone shoulder checks me passing by, and briefly apologizes, that I realize I’ve lost myself again. To the memories of the past. To them. It’s something I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t do. Couldn’t do–surrender myself to all the photographs and movies in my mind that consist of them.
It’s so hard not to fall into the good times. Even the slightly bad times. We had fights. Barely spoke. But we always came back together again.
Until that night they did the unthinkable.
So, no. I can’t keep thinking about those happy times when they saved me from my dad’s relentless fists and controlling ways. I only think about the fire that slowly crept across the carpet, coming straight for my bloodied body until I passed out and gave in to the darkness.
Because if my best friends could so easily dispose of me in one swipe, was it worth living to see another day?
Too bad I didn’t have a choice. By some miracle, I woke up in the hospital after an intense surgery to heal my slash mark and care for my burns.
I shouldn’t be alive. Be here. Or anywhere.
But I am. And I have a mission to complete before I can hightail it out of this godforsaken town and continue on with the new life I’ve carved out for myself.
Hopefully, this time with my life, heart, and soul intact.
I push my shoulders back and lift my chin. Like I’ve always done, I push those pesky feelings and emotions to the back of my subconscious, tie them in heavy chains, and toss them into the deepest, darkest part of my mind so they can’t resurface ever again.
Now, time for class.
“You’re Oliver, aren’t you?” I peer up from my spot in the back row of the medium-sized classroom with furrowed brows.
My lips pop open to retort–No, I’m Olivia. Who is Oliver?But then I remember, before I utter a word–I am Oliver. Oliver Davenport. Male student at Greenwood University.
Maybe I do need more than two cups of coffee this morning. Ugh.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dressed up as someone else and slapped a new name on a false birth certificate. All to play a role. To spy on the enemy. Those went smoothly. This? I’m having a hard time remembering my cover name, let alone watching the entirety of campus for suspicious activity.
“Uh, yeah. You’re Wade, right?” I ask, clearing my throat as I stare intently at my elusive roommate.
Wade. The Dean’s son. And Simon’s roommate I have yet to meet, other than talking through the curtain during our brief shower encounter. He’s been away from the dorm almost twenty-four-seven. Doing God knows what. There he stands with a double-collared pink shirt, styled blond, shaggy hair, and tanned skin like he’s been out in the California sun for days on end. He smiles at me, and it reaches his sparkling blue eyes. Simon says Wade is a good guy. Someone who devotes his time to charities and animal shelters. Nothing raises red flags about him. His record is as clean. To the naked eye, Wade is normal.
“Ah, we haven’t met yet. Sorry, man. I’m Wade. I bunk with Simon.” He grins easily, holding out his hand for me to take. “I’ve been really bogged down with last-minute summer volunteer work at the shelter. It’s something I help my family with.”
“Good to meet you, man,” I say, shaking his hand with a firm grip. Okay, maybe too firm. Wade winces, slowly pulling his hand away from mine, and sits in the chair beside me, discreetly rubbing his fingers.
Shit. I can hear Jordy laughing in my head now. If he were here, he’d never let me live this down. I already had to text him to see if guys wear sweatpants to class and if my outfit seems convincing enough. All he sent me was the laughing emojis.Really helpful, asshole.So, I went with a loose pair of jeans and abaggy shirt. Pretending to be a man is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I adjust my posture, sinking down into my seat and spreading my legs wider than normal. Man-spreading, as Jordy would call it. I rest my face on my palm as I lean on the arm of the rolling chair I’m in.
Wade settles beside me, putting his laptop beside mine on the long, built-in wooden table, taking up the entire third tier of the classroom. It’s strange to be in an actual college classroom. For so long, I studied through a screen by myself, getting the degrees I had always dreamed about.
