Know Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book One) (7 page)

I...I’m adrift in this boy’s grip, his
smell of sweat and male cologne.

I try kiss him back but I’m definitely the
one
being
kissed
. It’s all
him, he’s in control of this now. I might’ve started it, but that
was just the sparkplug. And now I’m merely going along for the
ride.

His sublime lips move onto my cheeks, my
neck. His tongue cuts like a small razor across my neck. My eyes
fire wide open. On my right I see colorfully clothed people, far
away, strolling away from the party.

A car rushes by, playing Chill.

The
gutted warehouse looms over us.

Gray skies cover us.

And none of it really means shit, because
one hundred percent of my sensory perception is busy with the
moisture he’s currently placing on my left ear, under my hair. No
doubt he’s seen the three small star pieces I have there, because
his tongue’s going pleasurably wild on each of them.

My heart
whirs like a pinwheel.

Then an entirely new thing takes over me.
And I have no name for it just yet. It’s like a blanket, warm and
fleecy, but filled with a chemical of some sort that causes a
slight irritation on my skin. It enters from my toes, and I feel it
embracing me, taking over me, warming me up and—and this is what I
feel most about it—making me feel weaker...

What fuckin
bastid
emotion is this?
I think.

My legs start
trembling. This blanket-thingy is all over me. I
lose all strength in my body. My arms flop around Declan’s back
like a puppet without strings.

And in some part of my mind that I’m not
entirely certain of yet (
bastid!
) I sense something deep and fundamental about this
golden-haired boy that I’m holding onto right now. And so I hold
him tighter. I hold him like Winslet and DiCaprio. Pattinson and
Stewart.

Suddenly (
BASTID!
) everything in my mind makes sense in some
incomprehensible, intangible way. Suddenly, letting him go feels
like letting go of some essential anchor pinning me to reality
itself. As if the gutted warehouse and Chill House car and the
colorful people and even the sidewalk upon which we stand are all
somehow hinged upon this moment’s embrace in an entirely weird and
super-cosmic way.

Abruptly
, holding onto him feels like the thing I’ve been
working toward all my life, like the culmination of every dream
I’ve ever had is made complete by the emotions of
this
moment,
this
kiss.

In a heady moment, all makes sense. There are
no questions, no noises, no doubts.

Just
this
.

I wrap my arms around his neck
and tighten. Moisture slams me
in the most romantic of places. I rock back on my heels and lift my
toes, hang on him. And for the first time in forever, I just
let go.

“
Yo, Deck! Let’s go, bro!”

It’s Skate’s voice, or, better, his
accent. Because Skate and
Declan have a tinge of Southern Brooklyn to them. Trevor
doesn’t. As to voice tones, Trev’s is the deepest, Declan second
up.

Declan
moves away from my lips, holds me in place by my shoulders.
Stares at me. The moment of eyes locked feels like an eternity. His
own eyes tremble. They question me. They look at me in a way that
says,
Blaze,
wtf? WTF!?

I’m sure mine look the same to him. We
explore each other’s depths, asking, but getting no answers.
Wondering.

An infinitely small twitch appears above
his left eyebrow. He smacks his lip
s.

A nervous “Hah!” escapes me. I lick my own
lips.

Should we kiss again? Should we
just say
Fuck the World and stay here for the rest of the day, my
back pressed against this gray wall? Declan’s hands all over
me?

I know this is what he’s thinking, too.
Because it’s what I’m thinking. And I can feel that, at least in
this very moment, there’s a connection.

“
I’m
so
glad
I didn’t roll tonight,” he says.

See? Because that’s what I was thinking as
well, and I even know why he says it, although he doesn’t explain
it:

I’m so glad I didn’t
ro
ll tonight
because now I know that this euphoria I’m feeling is the real deal
and not some chemical screwing with my brain.

Skate again:
“Deck. Dude! I’m hungry!”

I try say,
I guess we should go
, but my throat catches. He says it
instead. “I think we better...”

“
Yeah,” I croak.

He turns from me, taking my hand with
him.
Don’t
let it go
, I catch
myself thinking.

Our fingers stay locked as he strolls
ahead of me in slow motion, his hair splaying left and right from
the wind. I move my own hair back, still not believing any of
this.

I’m in another world.
As if the rules of something as integral
as gravity, or the fact that the sun rises in the East every day,
have been changed. As if I’d been playing basketball, but am now
suddenly thrown into a baseball diamond, and I’m next at bat. And I
don’t know shit about ball, but I’m on the team...

When we t
urn into the parking lot, Skate says,
“Finally!”

Trev
leans back against what must be Declan’s car—a monster of a
silver pickup that looks like it came straight out of the shop.
Trev’s arms are folded, chest bulging. He smiles at us, almost
indiscernibly. Skate looks a little confused (of course he does)
but Trev’s totally with the program. And it ain’t because I had
lipstick on and it’s smudged or anything, because I didn’t—I don’t
use make-up when I spin. “Blaze, why don’t you ride up in front?”
Trev says. And he opens the door for me.

I’m
a little embarrassed at how obvious it all probably is. I’m
feeling more like a little girl than like the woman who’s been
living on her own since her mom and gramps left for back
home.

I step up into the
truck, pushing up on Declan’s forearm for
support. And I can’t help the thought coming into my mind of
feeling like I’m a princess being led into a chariot...

By one
fucking hot
knight.

Declan
jumps behind the wheel and my eyes linger a second on his
flexing bicep. I feel like such a kid—and damned if I don’t like
that simple feeling. He looks in the rearview and says,
“
Tom’s
?”

Trev looks at
the clock on the control panel. “Only place that’s
open, isn’t it?”

“
There’s also Mickey Ds. Burger King?”
Declan smirks.

“
Just step on the fucking gas, homey. I
need some real food—bacon and pork and eggs and... Damn, I’m
hungry!”

Skate: “You dudes know I hate going
to
Tom’s
.”

Trev: “No, we know you hate seeing
Clarissa. Not our problem you did her and dumped her. It doesn’t
change the fact that they serve the best damn Huevos Rancheros in
Brooklyn.”

“
Fine, fuckit. I’m freaking starving. Let’s
just go.” Skate’s eyes are lidded. He wipes his face.

Here comes the downer.

I would’ve never taken him for a roller
with that snake tat around his neck. But, then again, I would’ve
never taken me for a roller a year ago either.

“And, FYI, I didn’t ‘do her and dump her.’
Things just...didn’t work out.”

Deck
fires up the car, looks over at me. It’s a look I
recognize: He wants to know if I’ll come with them.

And I
do want to. I wanna sit with him and talk and...well,
I
really
wanna
kiss him more, on my couch, with Lauren Aquilina singing
Fools
or
Sinners
or
Ugly Truth
in
the background.

But I’m beat. I mean, I’m totally
whacked
for the night. My physical self
clashes with my mental self as I consider letting go of this
mysterious anchor to which
I now feel suddenly attached.

But the physical wins. “Rain check? I’m so
wiped.”

Declan
doesn’t pull off. He looks at me for a while, both of us
paused in a space somewhere else, somewhere outside this car and
where there aren’t two dudes in the backseat and where the add-on
GPS isn’t lighting up and asking us where we want to
go...

“
How long would you need to feel fresh
again?”

I can still taste him on my tongue... His
li
ps are bright red from
the cold, maybe also from dehydration. I’d probably need about
three days of sleep to feel fully awake again, but only an hour’s
nap to be able to push it another few more hours. Not ready to let
go of him just yet, I say, “An hour?”

Declan
looks in the rearview. “Dudes, you’re gonna have to stave
off your hungers off for another hour. Blaze is coming with us.”
The way he says it leaves no room for argument. (And that he
says
hungas
instead
of
hungers
only
makes me want to touch my lips to his even more.)

Skate complains like his leg’s just been
broken. Trev says casually, “I can do that.” I’m looking straight
out the windscreen at that looming warehouse ahead of us. I feel a
finger press against my arm. I look back and see Trev. He winks,
gives me a thumbs up.

I shake my head at the surrealism of it
all, as if it were all falling into place by some magical force
I’ve never met.

Declan
stretches over into the glove compartment. There’s an
e-reader in front of the truck’s manual. Beyond that are several
packs of
Jack Link’s
beef
sticks. He pulls two out and throws them in Skate’s lap behind him.
“Here, that’ll have to be good enough until Blaze has gotten some
rest.”

I say,
“Declan, I don’t wanna impose. Let’s rather—”

Trevor cuts in.
“No, no, no. Hell, Blaze, you’re probably gonna
have the entire city calling you up for gigs later today. We’d like
to spend some time with you before you’re playing it up with Calvin
Harris and Kaskade over at Ibiza. Skate here’s just crashing, we’ll
keep him hydrated and fed and he’ll be alright.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just bite
my lip.

“
Declan, drive. Get this lady home. And
gimme some o’ that
Jack Link’s
as
well before I eat your head off.”

On the way to my place, I start realizing
that, once I hit the sack, I’ll crash until tonight...
It’s not gonna work. “Declan,
would it be OK if I just crash in your car and then come in and
join you guys at this
Tom’s
place, or whatever it’s called? A half hour should be more
than enough to keep me going until lunch. And after a good
breakfast...”

Declan
smiles, then his right cheek goes red. And he looks out his
window. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

I never took that half-hour sleep break. I
just wasn’t ready to let go of the anchor yet when we arrived
at
Tom’s
and Declan
and the boys started getting out the car. It’s not the first time
I’ve pushed my body beyond the limits like this.
I’ll
manage.

Tom’s Restaurant
is a breakfast and lunch diner
that Declan says is “one of the few places in Prospect Heights
that’s maintained ‘its Brooklyn’ over the years.” There’s an
old-style red and white
COCA COLA
sign outside, right next to the nondescript neon sign which
says only
RESTAURANT
. A
handwritten menu on a pinewood easel stands by the door outside.
Inside, there’s an American flag and porcelain dishes on the walls,
as well as photos and balloon signs in green (“HOT OTAMEAL”) and
orange (“FRESH VEGGIE BURGER”) and a big black one that says “TOM’S
REST. 1936.” On the counter, next to the photos of little babies
and kids that must no doubt be “Tom’s” kids and grandkids, there’s
another sign that says “THE GREENEST BLOCK IN BROOKLYN.”

The old guy behind the counter greets the
boys like they’re family. He looks at Skate suspiciously.
“All nighter?” he asks none of
them in particular. Declan nods. “I hope
yooze
is not getting into trouble, are yas?”

Declan
looks him in the eyes and says confidently, “Not last
night, Mr. De Luca.”

“
I hope not! Trev, nice to see you my man.
And well done for taking the bowl for the second year in a row!
How’s PSU?”