Bittersweet Lies (Bittersweet-Series Book 1) Read online

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time?” I groan, frustrated.

  “That guy is incredibly stubborn and always tries to keep me at a distance,” I complain, hoping to receive a little sympathy.

  “Well, for the most part, that is,” I add quietly.

  “What does he do when he isn’t keeping you at bay?”

  Do I really want to tell him?

  Even I am uncomfortable with what happened, especially the part where my treacherous body responded to his touch and dirty words. It won’t do!

  I decide to be honest with him and not chicken out now. Whether it’s the alcohol or the fact that I trust Liam, I cannot tell, but does it even matter?

  Guess not.

  “He hit on me and I jumped on it,” I say as casually as possible because as soon as I speak the words I feel even more foolish than I already did.

  “Yes, I know. That was stupid of me. He probably hits on every female that looks reasonably good and has breasts.” Lately, I’m often overcome with the urge to roll my eyes. I wonder why that is?

  He whistles. “Damn, the tension between you two is pretty thick.”

  A desperate sigh crawls out of my throat. “Believe me, I wish it was different. I mean, we’re friends, at least at one time we were and now this. He affects me and that scares me,” I confess, clinging to my empty glass.

  “On a sexual level?”

  “Yes,” I breathe and hesitantly look up.

  His gaze is sympathetic and not as expected: dismissive and accusatory.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink now.”

  As if Missy heard my wish, out of nowhere she materializes next to our table, avoiding his gaze and still acting timid. For some reason, I miss her slutty way a bit.

  “Your food will be here soon. Can I get you something else to drink?” she asks me, which surprises me given that she previously ignored me.

  “I’ll have an Acai Caipirinha, please.”

  “I’d like a Cajun lemonade.”

  She eagerly notes our orders without so much as glancing at him once and disappears as suddenly as she appeared.

  “You must have really intimidated that poor girl,” I say played reproachfully.

  “Me? You mean more like you,” he counters with a grin.

  “Your deadly look must have really scared her. I would not have wanted to be in her shoes at that moment.”

  “Let’s drop it,” I state decidedly, nibbling my lower lip. “She’ll calm down again. Latest after work, when she can enjoy a drink.”

  “You little minx,” he whispers with that knowing smile.

  “So, a rum drinker after all?” I ask, after I glance at the menu.

  “Possible,” he replies vaguely and, just like I did to him earlier, leaves me with an unsatisfactory feeling.”

  “H’mm,” I hum and lost in thought, play with the pink straw. “So, what have you been up to these past few years?”

  “You are not inquiring about who I have slept with, are you?” he asks in a rough voice, giving me a dirty grin.

  Startled, I almost knock over my glass, stopping it from tipping over at the last moment. “God, no! Of course not!”

  “What a shame.”

  “So?” I inquire again. Not because I need a diversion, but because it honestly interests me.

  “The usual, I guess,” he says, shrugging. “I finished high school and now in college. Nothing interesting about it.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Business administration,” he replies, looking at me appraisingly.

  “I’m working on becoming a CEO and if I set my mind on something, I pursue it to the bitter end. So far, I have always attained my goal.” He places particular emphasis on the always, making my pulse quicken.

  Why am I thinking right now about something completely different than his professional career?

  Perhaps because the subtle innuendo did not escape me.

  I clear my throat, embarrassed. “I thought you were more into technology.”

  “Can’t one combine both?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I remark.

  “I’m just surprised you decided for a degree in business instead of technology.”

  “One has to set priorities and mine simply changed,” he explains while gazing at me intently.

  “You remained faithful to yourself, just as I expected from you.”

  I really don’t like being read so easily. “Is that good or bad?” I want to know and slide around restlessly in my seat.

  “To stay true to one’s principles is nothing objectionable, Brooke. Quite the contrary.

  Years ago, you set your mind on something and now you’re doing whatever it takes to make it come true. I really admire that about you.”

  He’s right. I’d do anything for it.

  “After my dad left us from one day to the next, I made a decision that never left my head again.

  I don’t deny that my desire to ensure at least a little justice in our narrow-minded and far too often unjust society has something to do with my childhood.

  To know I could actually truly help others in some way with my work would be enough for me and provide me with the feeling of being needed. It’s something I’ve greatly missed in recent years.

  Doesn’t everyone have that desire?”

  It’s good to be able to talk so openly about it with someone.

  Such a conversation would have been unthinkable with my mother and my so-called girlfriends were only interested in stupid clothes and beauty products. In reality, my actual feelings surpassed their dense asses.

  If I’m honest, I never had any real friends apart from Blake and Liam. Our friendship were merely perfunctorily.

  My mother was adamant that my valuable time was not spent solely with the White brothers, but getting to know girls my own age, so that was what I did.

  She didn’t care if my friendships actually meant something. She was satisfied and no longer bothered me with her drivel about etiquette and our oh-so-important reputation, which was all I ever wanted.

  “In secret, maybe,” he says thoughtfully. “I guess most people wouldn’t admit it.”

  The straw I’m rolling back and forth between my fingers somehow calms me. “I don’t care what most people think,” I reply and shrug.

  “I’ll stand up for what I think is right, which I believe everyone should do. Whether in a private or professional setting doesn’t matter because both are the same in my eyes. You know what I mean?”

  The crease between his dark brows deepens as he regards me silently, apparently contemplating how to answer my question.

  “I guess so,” he starts carefully, leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.

  “Don’t we all do what we think is right? Some more so than others, but everyone in their own way.”

  “If you ask me, we merely do what is accepted by general society and what family, friends, or acquaintances impart on us.”

  A small sigh escapes his throat before he replies. “Most lack the courage to go beyond their familiar comfort zone and head down a new path. The fear of failure, of losing everything if their decision backfires, is simply too great.

  Why should someone risk leaving their reasonably well-paid job for the unknown?

  Sure, many don’t like their job, perhaps even hate it. And so, people like you and I wonder why they don’t do anything to change their situation.

  And it’s simple: we’re creatures of habits – what a stupid analogy! Unfortunately, only a few manage to break old patterns and take the affiliated step off the hamster wheel.”

  I really don’t like the idea, but there’s more wisdom to his words than I like to admit.

  Who wants to leave their comfort zone merely based on a dream?

  Our conversation is abruptly interrupted when Missy finally appears with our food and drinks. At the moment, I couldn’t have come up with an apt answer anyway, probably because I’m truly sta
rving now.

  “Sorry you had to wait so long. We have a new chef who’s still unfamiliar with the kitchen and today we’re swamped with orders.” Her apologetic, slightly timid smile is directed at me.

  It’s time for her to finally drop that mousy act and be a bit more self-assured again.

  Earlier, I liked her much better regardless of her obvious interest in Liam and her bitchy attitude grating on my nerves. Her current behavior no one could stand for long.

  “No problem,” I say and smile back.

  “If we somehow unsettled you earlier, we are sorry. That was not our intention.”

  While Liam presents me with a stunned look, Missy turns beet red at my words.

  “O-h, n-o,” she stutters, gawking at the ground, embarrassed. “You did nothing wrong. I believe my behavior was a little … inappropriate.”

  How nicely put, yes …

  “Don’t worry about it, everything’s fine,” I reply, cautiously touching her arm.

  She flinches noticeably at the unexpected touch, for which I am sorry. My apology was meant to ease her tension, yet instead, she seems even shyer. Dammit.

  She clears her throat and glances up. “Thanks,” she says firmly.

  “Please enjoy your meal. I’ll check on you later.” And with that, she rushes off again.

  Am I just imagining it or is she swaying her hips again?

  “What was that all about?” he suddenly exclaims, barely able to control his laughter.

  I look at him suspiciously and take a sip of my new cocktail, which, although it’s tasty, definitely has more alcohol in it.

  “What?” I ask innocently.

  He leans closer to me, his knowing gaze directed at my face. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “I felt sorry for the little one; besides, it’s somehow our fault she behaves like that. I merely wanted to make things right by apologizing to her,” I justify myself.

  “Well, I guess it came and bit me in the ass,” I say sheepishly.

  “You really know how to surprise me,” he admits with a grin. “Now forget about this Misty for a few minutes and focus on me.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

  “Who knows?” he says mysteriously, winking at me. “Now eat before everything gets cold.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  Deliberately ignoring the provided silverware, I grab the burger with both hands and hungrily bite into it. Cutlery is for beginners, besides, a burger has to be eaten with hands, anything else is unacceptable in my opinion.

  Oh God!

  The Angus beef literally melts in my mouth while the crispy bacon adds its special flavor and together with the delicate melted cheddar cheese, a perfect combination. I’m experiencing a genuine taste bud orgasm!

  “Good?” he asks, looking at me differently than before. Almost, as if I was his … prey.

  Chewing, I merely nod my head since my mouth is still full.

  “Sorry,” I mumble once I swallow. “I’m so hungry; I completely forgot to wish you bon appetite. I just fell over my food like a wild animal.”

  “Relax,” he replies, amused. “But tell me …” he starts and stares at me with that odd look again.

  I pinch my eyes closed and breathe deeply.

  “Don’t tell me you are seriously going to ask me if I can always open my mouth that wide,” I threaten and roll my eyes in annoyance.

  “Well, can you?” he inquires after all, grinning when he notices my expression.

  Stunned, my head moves from one side to the other.

  “What’s the matter with you? Are your hormones out of whack?” Before I can say something else rash, I take another bite of my burger.

  Slowly.

  With delight.

  With an extra wide-open mouth.

  While staring into his eyes.

  Deliberately.

  He pauses and swallows audibly as he watches me provoke him with a piece of meat. “You’re doing this intentionally,” he says huskily.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insist innocently and continue eating.

  “So? Are you guys still stuck in puberty or what is going on?”

  “You guys?”

  “Blake and you. You guys frequently show you’re cock-controlled alpha males,” I casually enlighten him.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll pass.” I grab two French fries, dip them in a mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise, and shove them into my mouth to get rid of the grin on my lips.

  His eyebrows shoot up. “So that’s what you think of us?

  You think we’re two testosterone-driven guys who have no control over their hormones and chase every skirt?”

  “Well,” I respond hesitantly. “Blake is worse. Does that console you a bit? Or, do you need something else?”

  Conciliatorily, I hold out the basket of fries to him, to which he wordlessly helps himself to a couple and shoves them into his mouth.

  “You really are incredible,” he says shaking his head.

  “Don’t ask me why, but I can’t be mad at you. And yes, it also sounds totally stupid even to me, so spare me your comment.”

  As I’m about to answer anyway, he lifts his index finger menacingly in the air and I instantly freeze.

  Shortly thereafter, he holds a piece of steak in front of my nose, which also silently disappears into my mouth.

  “Mmm,” I hum enthusiastically because the meat tastes simply fantastic.

  “We certainly are two particularly strange specimens,” I note, grinning.

  “You can say that again,” he remarks, joining my grin.

  A few minutes pass, during which neither of us says anything, which is not tragic at all. With Liam at my side, I don’t mind the silence because no matter what we do, for some reason, I always feel happy.

  Well, almost always.

  Those times where he embarrasses me with a cheeky or offensive remark are not exactly my favorite moments.

  I don’t know how to say it.

  It’s not like I don’t like that side of him, that’s not it. It’s more like I can’t stand myself in those moments because I mutate into a stuttering creature. Something I never want to be nor am I now.

  I grew up with those two, precisely the reason I should not be impressed or even intimidate by their alpha posturing.

  The problem is they are no longer innocent boys but have matured into real men who may moisten one or more women’s panties.

  Mine included.

  Fuck.

  And we’re back to the point, which drives me absolutely crazy.

  I refuse to let our friendships go to shit because a few hormones have a mind of their own and are going crazy.

  Over time, the problem will somehow remedy itself. My feelings – admittedly quite jumbled – will eventually simmer down and return to normal. Then, everything will be the same again. Assuming I get a handle on the thing with Blake.

  Which, at least, I hope.

  “So, what have you been up to these past few years?” he suddenly asks, ripping me out of my ruminations, for which I honestly am grateful.

  I can contemplate and get a headache later.

  “I guess same as you. First high school, then onto college,” I reply shrugging and take a big gulp of my cocktail.

  “Okay, if you want to nitpick, I’m not going to college. Not yet. But come Monday, I can call myself a genuine college girl.”

  “And other than that? What were you doing when you weren’t busy studying for school?” he inquires, staring at me as if he’s truly interested in my answer.

  “Huh, you mean apart from constantly dodging my mother’s harassment and doing my best not to let her get to me?” I ask sarcastically, pressing my lips firmly together into a fixed line.

  He looks at me sympathetically and runs a hand through his hair sighing, which only makes him more appealing.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rip open fresh wounds.”

>   I wave a hand dismissively that is also supposed to banish those memories that battle to come back to life from where I had deeply buried them.

  “It’s all right. It’s not your fault. My mother was … is difficult and that our relationship has been strained for years.

  Most of the time, I simply avoided her by taking refuge outside or by locking myself in my room and preparing for college.

  I know, it sounds boring, but it definitely helped somehow.”

  I know excitement looks different. But before Liam, I didn’t mind coming across as a dull overachiever who is too cowardly to face the problem and get rid of it from this world once and for all.

  It’s not like I didn’t frequently try to talk to her about the matter. Unsuccessfully so.

  Either she avoided my attempts, made fun of and ridiculed me, or completely lost it when I wouldn’t relent.

  For her, there was nothing to discuss, why would there be?

  She naturally knew the reason and didn’t care at all about how I was doing.

  When something did not go according to her wishes, she immediately clammed up and shifted all the blame to me.

  That was always easier than actually being responsible and dealing seriously with the problem.

  God, it’s hard to believe. This is my chance to finally have a little bit of fun and here I have nothing better to do than to agonize over my mother and her impossible manner.

  As if it weren’t enough in recent years, she did not care about my well-being and treated me like a leper.

  It’s still a mystery to me how I could have tolerated that woman for so long and the fact that I’m her daughter really doesn’t matter here.

  “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

  Am I?

  No, not really. But when have I been? I cannot recall.

  “Let’s not waste time talking about my mother,” I suggest and manage to force a little smile.

  “The night is young. And I’m curious what it has in store for us.”

  “You’re right,” he agrees, slightly tilts his head and looks at me thoughtfully for a few seconds.

  “If you want to let off more steam about your annoying mother, I’m offering to be there for you for psychological support and, if necessary, I’ll even hold your hand.” With the last part, he suggestively arches an eyebrow.

  “What a great sacrifice, wannabe Romeo,” I reply with an exaggerated smile and again dedicate myself to my sinful burger.