Page 112 of Bitter Lies

“C’mon, you were searching my closet for a sweatshirt? Your brother is all of a sudden defending you? And the rape shit? What’s going on, Halsey?”

Shrinking away from him, I search desperately for answers I don’t have because I don’t know how to tell the truth, and I’m afraid.

I’m afraid to see the hate in his eyes because whatever he thought of me before is nothing compared to how he’s going to feel now, and maybe that makes me pathetic, but I’m human, and I love.

He shifts in his seat, his hands clenching the wheel. “Stop trying to think up a fucking lie.”

“Griffin,” I mutter, licking my lips. “What does it matter? You don’t care, remember?”

His eyes darken, and he leans toward me, grasping the back of my neck. “On the contrary, I care too damn much.”

With that, he kisses me desperately, and I open just the same because my need for him is that great even as my heart breaks. Where was he a year ago? When I made the greatest mistake of them all?

When he pulls away, his eyes are etched with pain as he turns back to the windshield and frowns. “No more lies.”

“Fine. That goes for you, too.”

“Which lies would those be?” he asks dryly.

“Let’s start with the bet. You know, where you lost to Bobby Moore? How come that fucking jacket is still hanging in your closet?”

His jaw clenches, and he glares at me briefly. “Fine. There was no bet.”

“Why?” I whisper, my stomach wrenching painfully. He let me believe he bet away my virginity, and it was devastating for the girl who only loved him as he threw her away.

With an ironic lift of his brow, his mouth curves into a self-deprecating smile. “Because you spit in the face of my supposed feelings.”

“Supposed? Whatever. It doesn’t matter because it never happened.”

Pounding his fist on the wheel, he barks out a laugh. “I saw you with him and Bobby’s sister had that necklace.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I say wearily. “I was never with him and I hardly ever took it off. She would have had to crawl through my window…”

Glancing at my hands twisted in my lap, I wonder once again just how far Max has gone to keep us apart.

Was he scheming even then? Fuck.

“What?” Griffin asks impatiently.

“Nothing, I didn’t sleep with Bobby. I never gave anyone the damn necklace.”

“Really? Then how do you explain Bobby at your house, the night before we went on our trip?”

Blankly, I stare at him as I search through my memories and when I remember, I huff out a rude laugh. His eyes narrow as I say scathingly, “The night before our trip? When you promised me, you would go with me to the school art festival? And never fucking showed?”

He winces but nods his head, his eyes so fucking heated I think I’m singed. “Yes.”

“You’re a dick,” I mutter, turning away. “Bobby’s mom drove me home because she felt sorry for me and she forced Bobby to walk me to the door. I assume that’s what you’re talking about?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he studies me, and when I don’t drop my gaze, he turns to the windshield with a frown, and mutters, “And Jason?”

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” Scoffing, I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window.

Slamming his hands against the steering wheel, he bows his head. “What do you want me to say? Nothing makes sense. What about Jason?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Halsey!”

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