One Tiny Lie A Novel

head roll over to face out. He cracks open his eyes.
    Oh. My. God .
    It’s the Jell-O thief. It’s Ashton.
    Memories start washing over me like violent waves.
    They start at the stolen Jell-O shot but they don’t end there. No . . . they go on and on, each jarring flashback slamming into me, weakening my knees and tightening my stomach. Music and strobe lights and Ashton, leaning into me on the dance floor. Me, yelling at him, my hand slapping the arrogant smirk on his face. My hand, smacking his chest once, twice . . . I don’t know how many times. And then I’m not smacking him anymore. My hands are resting on his bare chest, my fingers tracing the lines of a fist-sized Celtic sign and the curves of his muscle with intrigue. I remember dancing . . . fast, slow . . . my fingers curled in his hair, his hands squeezing my waist tightly, pulling me into him.
    I remember the cool night air teasing my skin and a brick wall supporting my back as Ashton and I . . .
    I gasp, and my hands fly to my mouth.
    His eyes, first narrow and struggling against the light, widen in surprise as they rake over my entire body, resting on my chest. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m the terrified rabbit again, two seconds before knowing it’s going to be eaten by a wolf. A rabbit in nothing but her floral panties.
    I unfreeze just long enough for my arms to wrap around my chest, concealing my nakedness.
    The movement seems to break Ashton’s trance because he groans, running his hand through his dark hair. It’s already standing in every direction possible but somehow he makes it even messier. His head rolls to the side to see Reagan peeking out from under the covers, just waking, the stages of confusion to recognition flittering through her eyes. “Fuck . . . ” I hear him mumble, pinching the bridge of his nose as if in pain.
    “We didn’t . . . ?” I hear Ashton ask her in a low voice.
    She shakes her head, strangely calm. “No. You were too drunk to make it back to your house. You were supposed to sleep on the floor.” She sits up slightly to take in his present attire, or lack there of. “Dude, why the hell are you naked?” Her words remind me that he is still very naked. My eyes glance across his long form again, a strange stirring in my belly at the sight of it.
    He drops his forehead into the pillow. “Oh, thank God,” I hear him mumble, ignoring her question. With surprisingly graceful movements, he rolls out of the bottom bunk and stands. Air hisses through my teeth as I inhale, shifting my wide eyes to the window, but not before I get a full frontal show.
    Chuckling, he asks, “What’s wrong, Irish?”
    Irish .
    My head snaps back. “What’d you call me?”
    He smirks, his hand resting on the ladder rung, seemingly comfortable in his current lack of covering. “You don’t remember much from last night, do you?”
    The way his intense dark eyes settle on my face makes my stomach slide down into my leg. I have to clench my muscles before I lose bladder control right here. “If it explains why we’re all in a room together and you’re naked . . . then no.” The words fly out of my mouth, two levels higher than normal and wobbly.
    He takes a step forward and I instantly shift back, trying to squeeze into the space between the wall and the dresser. I’m so light-headed, I’m sure I’m going to pass out. Or throw up. All over the bare chest that I just barely remember groping last night.
    There’s a plain white sheet resting on the dresser beside me. I curl my body toward the wall as I reach over and grab it, pulling it down to cover my front. He takes another step and I lean against the dresser for support, willing my eyes to stay level but panicking the entire time. If he moves any closer, that thing is liable to brush up against me.
    “Don’t worry. We agreed last night that I’m not marriage material,” he says.
    I tighten my grip around the sheet and my chest and set my jaw stubbornly. “Well, at least I was still semi-coherent, then.” I can’t seem to peel my focus away from his rich brown eyes. They’re boring into my face but there’s something unreadable behind them. I wonder if he remembers kissing me. I wonder if he regrets it.
    I sense him about to edge just a tiny bit closer. And then I can’t control it anymore. I burst out, “Can you please point that thing somewhere else!”
    Throwing his head back to howl with laughter, he holds his hands up in