One Tiny Lie A Novel

stares on me. My stomach clenches instantly, both eager and terrified of what might come out of his mouth.“Are you going to answer that?”
    “What?”
    “Your phone.” His hand touches my jeans pocket where my phone is tucked. “It’s ringing.”
    As soon as he says it, my ears catch Connor’s unique ring tone. “Uh, yeah.” I slide it out and look at the screen to see Connor’s beaming grin and green eyes. I hit the answer button. “Hey, Connor.”
    “Hey, babe. I’m running to class but wanted to double-check—you’re coming to the race next Saturday, right?”
    “Yup, I’ll be there for the morning. I have my volunteer shift in the afternoon.”
    I hear the relief in his voice. “Great. My parents can’t wait to meet you.”
    My stomach does a somersault. “What? You told them about me?” “Slow and easy” means “meet parents”?
    “Of course. I’ve got to run. Catch you later.” I hear the phone click, leaving me staring at Ashton as he absently kicks the fallen leaves off the path.
    When he looks up at me, he frowns. “What?”
    I look at my phone and back at him. I hear the tentativeness in my voice as I say, “Connor wants me to meet his parents.” I know why I’m telling Ashton. I want to know what he thinks about that.
    He shrugs, distracting himself with a blond girl walking past.
    “Hey!” I snap, scowling. “I’m standing right here !”
    Bowing his head, Ashton sighs. “What do you want me to say, Irish?” Looking up at me with that resigned smile and the thinly veiled hurt that he hides from most, he says, “Meet his parents. It probably makes sense.” He pauses, his lips pursed tightly. “You and Connor are together.” I hear the unspoken words as if he’s screaming them. You and I are not .
    “What if I wasn’t with him? Would it matter to you?” It’s the same line that he’s used on me a few times. Now it’s my turn.
    Ashton’s hands lift to cradle the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up to the cool blue autumn sky. And I wait, quietly, watching him, my eyes memorizing the curves of his throat and his neck, fighting the urge to reach out and touch his chest, to share that intimate moment with him again.
    He drops his arms and his gaze to me, his jaw visibly taut. “I can’t give you what you want, Irish.” With another heavy sigh, he says, “Do you think you can manage the rest of the way back on your own?”
    Biting my bottom lip as the prickly lump forms in my throat, I drop my gaze to my books. “Of course. Thanks, Ashton.”
    His mouth opens to say something but then stops. I see the imperceptible shake of his head, as if he’s warning himself. “See you around.” He turns and walks away.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    Mediocre
    C minus .
    I blink several times, holding it closer to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
    I’m not. It’s still there, at the top of my chemistry midterm, in all its ugly red glory.
    My first college midterm mark and it’s almost a D. I’ve never had anything but an A.
    Ever.
    I swallow once, twice, three times as nausea fills my body and blood rushes to my ears, my heart beating off-kilter. Maybe I’m not cut out for Princeton. I know I didn’t study as hard as I should have, with all the distraction. My father was right. Boys do suck the brains out of smart girls. Either that or I’ve killed all my smart brain cells with drinking. All that’s left are the stupid ones that like to giggle and get felt up—okay, down—in cars.
    I rush out the door, past the other exiting students, my legs moving as fast as they can without outright running. Bursting out and into the cool drizzle, I force myself to slow down as a pain twinges in my ankle. I’ll reinjure it if I’m not careful.
    Without fail, my phone rings. Connor always phones me after this class because he’s getting out of his. I don’t want to answer it, but I do anyway.
    “Hey, babe. What’s wrong?”
    “I failed my chemistry midterm!” I fight to keep the tears welling in my eyes at bay. I don’t want to bawl out here, in the middle of everyone.
    “Seriously? You failed?” There’s no mistaking the shock in his tone.
    “Well . . . almost!” I sputter, my breath ragged.
    “Okay. Slow down, Livie,” Connor says in a composed voice. “Tell me what happened.”
    A take a few deep, calming breaths before I whisper, “I got a C minus.”
    Connor heaves a huge sigh. “You had me concerned there, Livie! Don’t worry! I had