Read Online Know Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book One) by Rachel Dunning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Dunning
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mush. It
makes me think the weirdest shit about her. Makes me think stuff
like: Sitting on the grassy hills in Sunset Park with her, and
looking down over at Red Hook sprawling below. Makes me think of
sipping a cocktail at The Ides rooftop, watching the sun go down behind the city, with her
in my arms.
Why is this happening to me?
It’s clear. She is on a pedestal. I’ve put up an image of her in my
mind and am making my life fit around it. But I have to see her for
what she is: A girl I dig. Because I do. And, sure, it’s physical.
The green of her eyes, that crazy pink and blonde hairstyle. And
the ink...
Oh, damn, that ink. First babe I ever saw to sport
so much of it. And it’s hot !
She squeezes my thigh and my thoughts
skyrocket.
She’s not helping.
And then there’s her voice, soft and
gentle. The way her gaze flickers when she tells a lie; I stopped
rolling...just because enough was enough.
And her music. The pain betrayed by the
images on her arm...
No, it’s bullshit—this idea of putting her
on a pedestal. Because I do know her. I know she’s suffered. She’s
been talking to me all night, through her music. Soulful,
heart-wrenching music. I know that her grip on my leg is an
unconfident one, one that says, I’m doing this, but I’m not sure
why...
We get to her place, a building right next
to a monster wallpiece of floating heads and wires. Skate would like
this , I think. Most of
the apartments on the left side—the apartment building across from
hers—look abandoned.
She hesitates just before she opens the car door. I pick up on
her anxiety. “Blaze, I’m not expecting anything from you. Heck, I’m
not even normally like this. You’re more than a little interesting
to me. All I know is...something’s maybe happening here. And I’ll
be damned if I’m gonna let it go. I’m a good guy. You can call
Randy and check with him. You can trust me. You—”
She stops me short. “I know.” The statement comes out as a
raspy whisper. “Just so long as you know that...I’m not—” She
laughs nervously.
“ You’re not a slut. I get it. I think I’ve
figured that out already. And I’m glad you’re not. Because I don’t
think we’d still be hanging out if you were.”
And I guess that statement pushes her over
the edge, because before I know it, she’s up on me, over the
gearshift, kissing me like her life rides on it. And I’m kissing
her back, fumbling on the seat and not knowing where to put my
hands and shit...
Hers are all over my hair and mine don’t quite reach her own
hair but now I’m tugging at her tight sweater and—
She pulls away, flushing red, grinning.
“So much for not being a slut—”
I kiss her again. My blood boils. She’s tipped me over the
edge. It’s her eyes, I tell myself. It’s her hair, I tell myself.
It’s her music, her tat, the honesty in her speech...
It’s the gestalt of all of that crap—the whole being greater than
the sum.
But somehow I don’t believe my own lie.
Because it’s none of that crap either.
It’s something else...
She pulls away, grinning and smiling
and— OK, I
glanced down at her tautened nipples through her top and now I look
away.
She gets out the car, starts walking
away . Fast.
I get out as well, slam my door closed.
Follow her.
She doesn’t wait for the elevator, runs up
the stairs. We get to a nondescript brown door with a yellow note
on it, heaving for breath—several floors up, ten or twelve. She
grabs the note, looks at it quickly, then crushes it in her
fingers. Before opening the door, she turns, breathless, puts her
arms around my neck. And kisses me again.
My tongue’s all inside her. Tasting her,
feeling her. I rub her tight sweater, only now feeling the cold on
my skin that I’ve avoided all day. When she notices my goosebumps,
when she feels me tremble, she pulls away gently, and points to a
cracked window up ahead.
“ Is that why the rent’s so cheap?” I
say.
“ I never said
makes me think the weirdest shit about her. Makes me think stuff
like: Sitting on the grassy hills in Sunset Park with her, and
looking down over at Red Hook sprawling below. Makes me think of
sipping a cocktail at The Ides rooftop, watching the sun go down behind the city, with her
in my arms.
Why is this happening to me?
It’s clear. She is on a pedestal. I’ve put up an image of her in my
mind and am making my life fit around it. But I have to see her for
what she is: A girl I dig. Because I do. And, sure, it’s physical.
The green of her eyes, that crazy pink and blonde hairstyle. And
the ink...
Oh, damn, that ink. First babe I ever saw to sport
so much of it. And it’s hot !
She squeezes my thigh and my thoughts
skyrocket.
She’s not helping.
And then there’s her voice, soft and
gentle. The way her gaze flickers when she tells a lie; I stopped
rolling...just because enough was enough.
And her music. The pain betrayed by the
images on her arm...
No, it’s bullshit—this idea of putting her
on a pedestal. Because I do know her. I know she’s suffered. She’s
been talking to me all night, through her music. Soulful,
heart-wrenching music. I know that her grip on my leg is an
unconfident one, one that says, I’m doing this, but I’m not sure
why...
We get to her place, a building right next
to a monster wallpiece of floating heads and wires. Skate would like
this , I think. Most of
the apartments on the left side—the apartment building across from
hers—look abandoned.
She hesitates just before she opens the car door. I pick up on
her anxiety. “Blaze, I’m not expecting anything from you. Heck, I’m
not even normally like this. You’re more than a little interesting
to me. All I know is...something’s maybe happening here. And I’ll
be damned if I’m gonna let it go. I’m a good guy. You can call
Randy and check with him. You can trust me. You—”
She stops me short. “I know.” The statement comes out as a
raspy whisper. “Just so long as you know that...I’m not—” She
laughs nervously.
“ You’re not a slut. I get it. I think I’ve
figured that out already. And I’m glad you’re not. Because I don’t
think we’d still be hanging out if you were.”
And I guess that statement pushes her over
the edge, because before I know it, she’s up on me, over the
gearshift, kissing me like her life rides on it. And I’m kissing
her back, fumbling on the seat and not knowing where to put my
hands and shit...
Hers are all over my hair and mine don’t quite reach her own
hair but now I’m tugging at her tight sweater and—
She pulls away, flushing red, grinning.
“So much for not being a slut—”
I kiss her again. My blood boils. She’s tipped me over the
edge. It’s her eyes, I tell myself. It’s her hair, I tell myself.
It’s her music, her tat, the honesty in her speech...
It’s the gestalt of all of that crap—the whole being greater than
the sum.
But somehow I don’t believe my own lie.
Because it’s none of that crap either.
It’s something else...
She pulls away, grinning and smiling
and— OK, I
glanced down at her tautened nipples through her top and now I look
away.
She gets out the car, starts walking
away . Fast.
I get out as well, slam my door closed.
Follow her.
She doesn’t wait for the elevator, runs up
the stairs. We get to a nondescript brown door with a yellow note
on it, heaving for breath—several floors up, ten or twelve. She
grabs the note, looks at it quickly, then crushes it in her
fingers. Before opening the door, she turns, breathless, puts her
arms around my neck. And kisses me again.
My tongue’s all inside her. Tasting her,
feeling her. I rub her tight sweater, only now feeling the cold on
my skin that I’ve avoided all day. When she notices my goosebumps,
when she feels me tremble, she pulls away gently, and points to a
cracked window up ahead.
“ Is that why the rent’s so cheap?” I
say.
“ I never said
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