Tell Me a Lie by Brianna Flores

Author:Brianna Flores [Flores, Brianna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-13T16:00:00+00:00

“Hey,” I say as soon as I walk into the kitchen, where I find Sage getting a bottle of water out of the fridge. He’s not totally comfortable here, but we’ve only been here about an hour. “Happy birthday.”

I wanted to text him earlier, but I figured he’d be busy. I guess he kind of was, but where I’d thought he’d be hanging out with friends and family, turns out he was getting kicked out of his home. On his birthday. Because he’s gay.

He stares at me for a long beat, going through about a dozen different microexpressions that move too quickly for me to read.

“How’d you know?”

“Your application.” That’s how I found out he was a few years younger than I’d originally believed him to be, but I don’t bother bringing that up.

“You remembered?

I don’t bother answering that because, obviously, I did. It’s annoying how much I remember about him. I can’t help but want to remember everything, to know everything about him.

Obsession. It’s an obsession. It’s unhealthy and borderline creepy, and I hate myself for it. It’s also pretty juvenile. I don’t think I’ve ever had it this bad, felt such an inescapable urge to just claim anyone.

“Are you hungry?”

“No thanks.” He fiddles with the label on his water, not meeting my eyes and blushing for no reason other than he just does that sometimes. It’s endearing. I’ve thought it before, but it’s true.

He’s being all cute and awkward, and he’s in my house. The last time he was in my house, we fucked, and my dick isn’t letting me forget it.

I lead him upstairs to show him the guest room. It’s for anybody to use when they come to visit, but more often than not, it was Lauren and her daughter, Cindy, who ended up taking up the space. It’s why there’s a pink bed set on it. It’s covered in hearts, and I expect to have to defend the bedding, but Sage speaks before I get the chance.

“Do you remember your first time?”

“What?” The fuck? I have no idea where that came from, and it takes me a second to recall the last thing I said to him. It definitely had nothing to do with sex; I’m very careful to not voice those thoughts.

“Do you?”

“Um, yeah.” I shrug, a frown playing on my lips as I consider whether or not I should give him details. “I was fifteen. He was a senior.” And pretty desperate. He was a varsity football player, and I was on the JV team. We went from innocent kissing to him begging to be filled in a matter of seconds. It was good, as far as first times go. “Why?”

“My first time was bad. Painful.” It’s adorable how much he blushes, how vividly his cheeks pinken when he does. It’s too easy to obsess over, the sight sweet enough that I’m able to ignore the way a streak of jealousy coils in my gut at the mere mention of him with someone else.

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