Lies On The Lips

Chapter Two

Copeland

Irritation churns inside me as I watch Ashley flirt with my so called buddy Paul. Not because I’m jealous, but because she knows I hate to be kept waiting. I want to get home. I’m tired as hell and I need to sleep if I plan on going to that party at all later.

I rev my engine, earning the stares of everyone except Ashley. It’s hard to ignore my badass Chevy Camaro. It’s hard to ignore me. Yet Ashley holds up a finger to me to tell me it’ll be a minute while she continues chattering on to paul. Flirting. Laughing.

"Fucking idiots." I rolled my eyes and scanned the crowd of people. Always searching. I skim over the boring group of people I’ve known since kindergarten, eventually landing where they always do. On him. Brett Cooper. My next-door neighbor from hell. An angry flush burns across my flesh. I roll down the window to let the cool fall air chase away the heat. Every time I think about why Brett and I fell out, I get pissed all over again. He kissed me. The dick tried to turn years of friendship into some gay make out session I wanted no part of. He immediately learned he didn’t have that right. I’d shoved him away and punched him so hard I thought I broke my hand. As I stumbled out of the pool, he sobbed, begged for me to forgive him. That it was a mistake. It was a mistake all right. A mistake that ripped us in two. I was glad he didn’t see my tears. Tears of betrayal that my best friend turned on me. He knew I wasn’t gay and yet he kissed me anyway. Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and turn up the radio. Several kids walk by and give me head nods, but I simply glower at them. I’m not their friend. I’m no one’s friend.

The door to the gym opens and a group of football players strut out. I grit my teeth as I watch them. They’re all wearing jerseys since tonight is a game night. One of the guys, Dylan, punches Brett’s arm playfully. He laughs at whatever’s being said and I laugh too. Cold, harsh, bitter. Those dumbasses don’t even know him. He laughs at what they say, but he’s not happy. It makes me wonder if he’s still pissed about earlier.

I smirk, knowing I’d gotten a rise out of him. His smile falls when he sees me staring his way. He drops his head to look down at his feet, his shoulders tensing. Brett’s different. Not the guy I remember. Back in the day, before he turned into a creep, he was hilarious and fiercely loyal. We drove our dads crazy. Closer than best friends, we were like brothers. Now we’re nothing.

The car door opens and I drag my attention to Ashley. As she buckles in, she digs around in her purse. When she pulls out a cigarette, I snatch it from her and toss it out the window. "Not in my car." I peel out and she curses at me.

"At least roll up the window," she whines. "It’s cold." She fiddles with the radio and I grit my teeth. Her music choices suck. When she settles on some girly singer who’s better suited for the Disney channel rather than the inside of my car, I let out a groan. My mind is still in the past as I wonder what even went through Bretts’s mind to think I’d remotely be okay with him kissing me. Sometimes, I wonder if it was just a drunk moment. But deep down, I know. The way he still looks at me. The way he perks up when certain guys talk to him. He’s gay, whether he’s come out of the proverbial closet or not. "What’s your deal lately?" Ashley demands, her nails digging slightly into my thigh, jerking my attention to her. Always to her. She wishes I worshipped the ground she walked on, but the truth is, I can barely deal with her most days. I keep her around because it pisses my dad off, and pissing him off is my favorite hobby.

"Nothing," I grunt. She’s not satisfied by my answer.

"I’m pregnant." I let out a heavy sigh. Her constant need to throw the most dramatic crap my way is exhausting.

"Is that so?" I ask in a bored tone. A huff escapes her.

"Yes. I’ve missed my period." Unless she’s carrying Paul’s kid, it’s not mine. I wear rubbers every time without fail. Not to mention, I haven’t been in the mood in weeks. I call bullshit, which is why I whip into the drugstore parking lot without warning. With Ashley, you call her out on her antics. You certainly don’t give into them. I yanked out my wallet from my pocket and flipped it open. "Oh my God," she hisses. "You’re such a dick." Shoving a twenty at her, I shrug.

"So?" I nod at the store. "Go get a pregnancy test." She storms out of my car and into the building. I lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes. Moments later, she climbs back in the car and slams the door. The entire drive, she smacks her gum and texts as fast as her skinny fingers can go. Probably tattling to her friend Cindy about her awful boyfriend. When I change up the routine, she stiffens.

"Why are we going to my house?" Her lip curls up and she glowers at me.

"I’m tired, Ashley. You talk too much. If I take you home with me, I won’t sleep." Her mouth gapes open and her cheeks burn red with anger. The sack with her pregnancy test is clutched tight in her grip.

"Whatever." We pulled into her driveway and I shut off the car. She gave me a look of confusion as we walked up the path to her house. Her house is a simple three bedroom home in the shitty part of town. Dad hates that I see her because he feels like she’s way beneath me. Her little brother Jake sits on the front porch carving pictures into the wood with a pocket knife. I actually like the twerp. He’s twelve going on twenty. The kid has a mouth on him like a sailor, but I appreciate his love for art. For twelve, he’s really good. His parents may get pissed that he destroys their property for the sake of art, but one day he’ll be able to do something with those skills.

Ashley surges past me, ignoring Jake altogether. I ruffle his messy blond hair along the way. "Nice cat."

"It’s a tiger," he grumbles.

"Then give him more teeth." I follow her into the house. She’s already thrown her stuff down on the couch and gone to her room. When I walk into her once pink room that’s now covered in black concert posters, she’s pulling off her boots and won’t look at me. "Bathroom, Ashley, I don’t have all day," I grumble.

Her gaze is murderous. "If I’m pregnant, it’s yours." I shrug and pick up the sack from her bed. She huffs and puffs as I open it and pull the stick out of the package.

"Pee on it. Wait a couple of minutes. It’s almost one hundred percent accurate," When she makes no move to get up, I thrust it in front of her. "Go." She stands abruptly and shoves past me, yanking the test from my grip. The bathroom door slams behind her. I sit on her bed and glance around her room, searching for the Ashley I once actually cared for. Closing my eyes, I remember our first kiss. The first time we were intimate. All our firsts. My chest feels empty. Cold and unfeeling.

Coming back out she glares, again. "I lied," she mumbled. "I'm not pregnant."

"I figured that," Watching the salty tears slip over her pink cheeks I moved toward her. "Sorry, Ashley. It's over between us."

"What! Why?" Her bottom lip quivers and I know I should console her, but I just don't have it in me, not anymore.

"You knew this was coming, Ashley. Me and you have been over for a long time."

"No!" She shouts grabbing my sleeve. "You can't just finish it like that!"

"I can and I have, you'll find someone better than me. You know that."

She slaps my cheek, but it doesn’t hurt. The tear racing down her cheek looks far more painful. "Screw you. Is this about Paul?"

"You can do better than Paul."

"Yeah, you!" she cries out. "I had you and now I have nothing." More tears. Her entire body trembles with a mixture of fury and devastation.

"This was going to happen, one way or another."

"But I love you." She pleads.

"No, Ashley. All of this has just become empty," I pull away. "Sorry, but that's it." Her hands shake as she pulls her cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She fumbles to pull one out and then puts it to her cherry lips. The lighter doesn’t seem to work for her and after a few unsuccessful attempts, I step forward and take the lighter from her. Liquid heartbreak leaks from her eyes, soaking her cheeks as I light her cigarette for her. Out of habit, she inhales it and then hands it to me. Absently, I take a drag, letting the nicotine numb me even more, before handing it back. I wish, for her, I could show an ounce of feeling to let her know she was more than just a fond memory for me. 

She was a distraction. A Band-Aid. When I’d needed that, she was there to do the job. But she’s fulfilled her duty and it no longer works. I may be a dick, but I do care about Ashley, and I’ll be damned if I drag her along anymore. I kiss her forehead once more and leave without another word. As I start for the door, her mother, Hillary, walks in with Jake. She gives me a fake smile—one that Ashley has perfected—and chirps out a "Hello." The smell of greasy fries from the diner she works at permeates the air. Her father hates me and her mother barely tolerates me. And still, they’re better parents to me than my dad. I’ll miss them in a way. 

 "See ya, kid." I tell Jake as I leave. I stop once outside, to admire his handiwork. His tiger has teeth now and claws. Much better. The trip to my car, there’s a lightness in my step. I’d assumed I was the one dragging Ashley down, but I can’t help but feel freer. My mind thrums with a million things I could do without my girlfriend clinging to me. Get another tattoo? Go for a swim? Go to the football game? I snorted at the last one. There’s no way in hell I’m going to watch Brett play football. Too many memories I’d rather not uncover. Memories of us playing football in the park. Roughhousing so hard one of us always got hurt. Adults yelling at us to calm down. My life’s too calm these days. Annoyingly calm. The urge to shake things up buzzes through me. Tonight, I’ll go to that party and see what kind of trouble I can drum up. In the meantime… I’m taking a nap.