Chapter 35
It Only Takes One Lie
The next morning, I wake to find Adrian in my bed. I’m confused, about several things, but I have to pee before I can think. I stumble my way to the bathroom, trying to not look at myself in the mirror, but when I brush my teeth I have no choice.
Shit, I look like… well, shit.
After I’m done, attempting to make myself somewhat presentable, I stumble back to my room. I start poking Adrian, telling him to leave. He opens his eyes and I watch as struggles to remember something, probably last night. I don’t know how much he had to drink, but I do know the tequila has erased most of my memories.
“You want me,” he says, talking in what must be delusions. It’s not even eight a.m. for Christ’s sake.
I wrinkle my forehead, but it hurts, so I stop. “What are you talking about?”
He reaches out, grabbing my wrist and pulls me back into bed. I would resist, but I’m still half-drunk and I have a hangover.
“You’re a chatty girl when you’re trashed.” He purses his lips, thinking. “I’m gonna need to remember that little nugget of information.”
I close my eyes, then turn my back to him. I certainly don’t have the patience for his attention disorder right now.
“Goin’ back to sleep. If you like your balls, you’ll be outta my bed by the time I wake up sober.”
I may be warming to the idea of trying this relationship with him, but I have a twin bed, and I need my space when I’m hungover.
He presses his front to my back and wraps an arm around my waist. When his mouth is at my ear, he whispers. “You turned down Ryder because you want me to pull your hair while pounding into you from behind.”
Oh no… no, no, no, no, no.
“And you’re in like with me, more than you’ve been with anyone else since high school.”
My fucking drunk mouth. Feeling all this, for him, is bad enough, but him knowing, well that breaks all the rules to keeping my heart safe.
Adrian goes on, not realizing I’m near vomiting from the stress. “Gotta say, not crazy about coming in second to some loser you dated in high school, but I’ll be in first place soon enough.”
What the hell do I do? I told him I like him… while I was drunk. Everyone knows people speak the truth when they’re drunk. I close my eyes, running through all my options. I could grab my shit and run, then pretend I don’t know him when I see him later. I could tell him to never speak of last night again. Or I could deny those words are true.
I’m on the verge of a panic attack when I realize… this is it. This is where I decide if I’m going to live the rest of my life alone or if I’m going to gamble against the odds, hoping this guy is different from all the ones before.
I sit up, not facing him, and draw in a shaky breath. “That boy from high school,” I tell him, “well, he trampled all over my heart and ruined any trust I had left after my dad and brother broke my heart. So, yes, I do like you, but I’m terrified you’re just like them, and in a month, or a year, you’ll leave me too.”
I feel the bed dip and it squeaks, as Adrian sits up next to me. He slides off the bed and kneels in front of me.
Taking my hands in his, he stares into my eyes. “I can’t predict the future, but I can promise you that I’ll never lie to you, and I’ll never walk away without first telling you why. Now, having said that you need to understand that I’m crazy about you.” He pauses, raising his brow. “Seriously, the way I feel verges on the edge of an unhealthy obsession.”
I stare at my hands, searching for strength. “I know, but I can’t understand why,” I tell him, honestly. “I mean, I’m a bitch, I don’t like people, and I’m not very nice to you.”
He purses his lips, thinking. “You keep things interesting. Besides, I know you’re not truly a bitch, you’re just easily irritated, which happens to be extremely entertaining to me.”
I watch him closely while my thoughts war with each other. I watch him for any sign of dishonesty or manipulation. I do this because it’s what I’ve been trained to do. I want desperately to let go of this fear of abandonment, and my mistrust of almost everyone. I know those kinds of changes don’t happen overnight, but one day at a time.
Closing my eyes, I consider what I need from him to make this change. When I open my eyes, he’s still watching me, giving me time to work this through in my head.
“Actions,” I finally say, “I need actions, not words.” He tilts his head, looking confused, so I explain further. “Words are random thoughts people put together then say out loud. Energy, effort, and heart aren’t needed to say words, but those things are needed for actions. If you want me to trust you, don’t say words which are meaningless, instead do things that have meaning.”
He nods, then adds, “I can try that, but you have to remember something—I’m an idiot.”
I raise my brow. “How could I forget?”
He winks. “Seriously, I rarely ever say or do the right thing. Even if I take time to think before I act, which is pretty rare, I still fuck up. You have to keep that in mind and don’t leave my sorry ass at my first mistake.”
Making mistakes is different than being deceitful or doing something, knowing it will cause someone pain. I know people make mistakes, hell, I screw up all the time. It’s not that I can’t forgive. It’s that I can’t trust.
“Don’t ever lie to me,” I say, removing any hint of humor from my face. “Giving me words without effort or heart is meaningless, but giving me words without truth is betrayal.”
My mom raised me with this being the number rule in our home. She always used to say, “It only takes one lie to severe the thin thread of trust in any relationship.” In my own life, I’ve learned that it only takes the actions of one man, to cut the thread of trust for all relationships that follow.
“I promise,” he says, his smile growing bigger by the minute.
We stare at each for a few beats before I ask. “So, what does this mean?”
He jumps up and tackles me backward, onto the bed. Leaning over me, staring into my eyes, he says, “This means you’re my real girlfriend. No more pretend crap.”
I’m about to ask him to clarify when his phone rings. He groans and I pout. I want to hear more about what this means. For the first time in years, I’m excited about the idea of having a boyfriend.
Now I feel like the teenager.