One Tiny Lie A Novel

the perfect excuse.
    I can blame Connor for the breakup. He pushed me too far. He knows I want to take things slow and he groped me like a thirteen-year-old boy playing the closet game. This is perfect. Then it won’t be my fault. He’ll think it’s his fault. He’ll . . .
    Taking a deep breath, I turn to look at the reflection in the mirror—at the woman in black thigh-highs and I-just-lost-my-virginity-and-then-some hair, hiding in a bathroom while her boyfriend is on the other side, worrying about her with his best friend, the dark and broken man whom she has fallen madly in love with. And all this person can think about is how she’ll avoid admitting to all wrongdoing.
    I don’t recognize her at all.
    I hear that heavy sigh of Connor’s and I know he’s rubbing the top of his head. That’s Connor. Predictable. “I just . . . I think I’m in love with her.”
    My body hunches in on itself as if just punched. Ohmigod . He just said it. He said it out loud. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I was afraid of this. Now it’s real. I think I’m going to be sick. Seriously, I am two seconds away from diving to the porcelain bowl.
    This. Will. Crush. Him .
    And Connor doesn’t deserve to be crushed. He may not be right for me but he doesn’t deserve this. Yet no matter what reason I give, whether I blame it on him or me, whether I tell the truth or not, I’m going to hurt him. I have to resign myself to that fact because no matter what, he and I are done.
    Ashton’s irritated tone surprises me. “You don’t love her, Connor. You think you do. You barely know her.”
    My reflection nods her head back at me. She’s agreeing with Ashton. That’s right . Connor doesn’t know me at all. Not like Ashton knows me.
    “What are you talking about? It’s Livie. I mean, how can you not love her. She’s fucking perfect.”
    I squeeze my eyes shut. Too fucking perfect, Connor . I quietly slide my coat on over myself, pulling it tight to my body, aching for Ashton’s warmth.
    There’s a long pause, and then I hear the bed creak and Ashton’s heavy sigh. “Yeah. I’m sure she’s fine. You should go and check out the campus, then. Maybe she’s at the library.”
    “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, bro.”
    The lightest sigh of relief escapes me as I lean back against the wall.
    “I’ll try her one more time on her phone.”
    My phone.
    Fuck.
    I watch the reflection in the mirror of this girl—this foreign woman—go from a slightly pale complexion to stark white as Connor’s ring tone sounds faintly from the phone in my purse. My purse, which is sitting on Ashton’s nightstand.
    It rings and rings and rings. And then it stops.
    Dead silence.
    Deader than dead. So dead that I could be the last person left in this world.
    And then I hear Connor ask slowly, “Why is Livie’s purse here?” Connor’s voice has taken on a tone that I’ve never heard before. I don’t know how to describe it, but it makes my body suddenly turn cold with dread.
    “She swung by to say hi and forgot it, I guess.” Ashton’s a fantastic liar, but even he can’t pull that one off.
    The sound of footsteps approaching has me shuffling away from the door.
    “Livie?”
    I purse my lips tight and clamp my hands over them and close my eyes and stop breathing. And then I count to ten.
    “Livie. You need to come out here right now.”
    I shake my head, and the movement dislodges a stifled moan.
    “I can hear you, Livie.” After another long pause, he starts pounding on the door, rattling the entire wall. “Open the damn door!”
    “Leave her alone, Connor!” Ashton bellows behind him.
    It stops the pounding but not the yelling. The yelling only gets more vicious. “Why is she hiding in there? What the fuck did you do to her? Did you . . .” There’s a strange jostling sound in the room. “How drunk was she when she came up here, Ash? How drunk?”
    “Really drunk.”
    I glare at the door. What? No, I wasn’t! Why would he say that?
    There’s another long pause. “Did you force her into anything?”
    With a resigned sigh, I hear Ashton say, “Yes. I did.”
    I feel like someone has just struck a match and stuck it into my ear, hearing words that turn my beautiful, remarkable, unforgettable night with Ashton into a drunken rape story. I instantly know what Ashton is doing. He’s making an excuse for me. He’s making himself out to be the bad guy. To take all the blame for what I initiated. What I