Excerpt: Liar

from Chapter 12

I can’t sleep. I toss and turn in a bed far narrower than what I’ve become accustomed to. Everything is eerily quiet, still, and dark. Even with my windows closed and my shades drawn, there’s always sound and light in New York City. Here it’s like sleeping in a vacuum. The last two nights sleep came easy: I passed out, overwhelmed and exhausted by the reawakening of my memories. But tonight, I miss home. I miss David. I might miss the old me, though I’m not sure which one or who she is.

After an hour of insomnia, I decide enough is enough. I throw on my robe and slippers and pad out into the hallway. Next door is Hattie’s room. I’m not knocking there for late night comfort. Across is Lily, who always went to bed earlier than the rest of us. Then there’s Jo; we were never close enough for midnight confessions.

I slip into the boys’ section of the dormitory hall. Waking Mac from sleep is impossible; he sets his schedule and then puts himself out for the count. Next is Talis’ room. I’ve chosen this destination so many times in the past. He’s out watching the prince tonight, but if he home, all I’d get would be harsh words and hostile stares. I stop at the final room.

I knock on the door softly and push it open. Dexter looks up from his book. His room looks very similar to how I remember: the same stark, navy-blue color scheme with few flourishes, everything done in clean lines. He looks good in bed, less guarded. His hair isn’t perfectly gelled; he’s not wearing a shirt. He looks more like David Hale at night.

“I don’t want you to think this means anything, but…hey, how come you get a double bed?”

Dexter closes his book and places it on the nightstand. “You don’t want questions about my bed to mean anything?”

“I got distracted.”

“I have a double because at some point I refused to be treated like a child and demanded my big boy bed. What can I help you with?”

I approach the bed slowly, carefully, as if he’s a large woodland creature easily spooked.

“I don’t want you to think this means anything,” I start again, “But it’s so lonely down here. It’s quieter than upstairs, and I miss David. I was wondering if I could—just for tonight—sleep in your bed?”

Dex looks hesitant. He doesn’t say anything.

“You owe me,” I remind him. It might not be fair, but neither was making me fall in love with a fantasy.

Dex scoots over and holds the comforter open. I slide out of my slippers and robe and crawl in next to him. The spot his body just vacated is warm, and I feel more peaceful already.

Dexter hits the switch next to his bed, and the lights go out. I snuggle further into the covers and listen to him breathing. David never slept over, but I imagined this so many times. Dex and David breathe the same, of course. I never realized before that you could identify a person by the sound of breathing, but I can.

“Would you like to talk about the mission?” The voice in the dark is polite and distinctly Dexter’s.

“No. I really just want to pretend you’re David.”

Please, please just let me pretend. I won’t lie to myself. I’ll know the truth in the back of my mind. But it would be so nice to just lie here and not be alone for a few glorious minutes.

“Alright.”

Dex moves closer and wraps his arms around me, spooning me against his chest. I feel a little tingle, starting where his skin touches mine and radiating throughout my whole body.

“Are you mojoing me?” I ask.

“No.”

I believe him. We lie there in silence, pressed up against each other, matching our breathing. He feels so warm and comfortable and safe: everything he isn’t in the daylight. Which means it’s working, I guess. I’m seeing him as David.

“You know,” Dex says in a hoarse voice. “I felt it, too. I couldn’t sustain that level of emotion—I couldn’t make you fall in love that hard for that long—without feeling something, too.”

I wish I had seen his face for that confession, instead of staring into darkness. I turn in his arms, so I’m facing him.

“What are you saying?”

“I am David Hale.”

I don’t believe him. David is nothing like stiff, haughty Dexter, cold and detached from the world. David was warm, full of life and laughter, enjoying every minute of existence. I don’t believe him, but I want to.

I cup his face. It’s warm and almost smooth, which just a hint of stubble. In the dark, it’s the exact same face.

“Maybe I shouldn’t stay here tonight,” I whisper.

“Maybe not. Are you going to try and take advantage of me?”

“Yes.”

Then we’re kissing, in a far more frantic and frenzied fashion than David and Emma ever kissed. I run my hands over his chest—so glad it’s there, already conveniently naked—and pull him closer, closer. It’s not possible to get closer enough to David. Dexter. Whoever this is. I break contact just long enough for him to rip my t-shirt off, over my head and fling it across the room. Good. Skin against skin is better, though still not good enough.

Closer and closer still. We’re butt naked now, and I can barely breathe with the kissing, the touching, the wanting. I will never take my lips from his, never takes my hands from his body.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“God, yes.”

And it’s better than okay, it’s glorious. I can’t imagine being with any man, loving any man but this one—whoever the hell he is.

I awaken to a soft rustling, a deep sigh. I open my eyes slowly and take in a strong, tanned arm and a navy blue blanket. Eyes closed again. Too early to wake up. The alarm hasn’t sounded yet.

My eyes fly open. I feel Dexter’s arms go rigid around me.

“You’re awake,” I say.

“You too.”

In an instant we’re upright, on opposite sides of the bed, pulling blankets tight around our naked bodies. I glance at him—naked arms, naked chest—and look away again. Best to keep my eyes straight forward.

This complicates things considerably.

“We were both feeling very vulnerable.” I say.

“Right.”

Is it possible to be drunk on loneliness? Because if so, all can be easily explained.

“Truly, we were victims of our own powers.”

“Yes.”

“And it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I have to go.” I start to get out of bed then remember that I’m naked. “Please look away.”

While Dexter hides his face in the comforter, I find my clothes and throw them on my body as quickly as possible. I peek my head out the door. The hall is empty. There’s no one to see my walk of shame.

“I’ll see you at the briefing.”

“Yes,” comes Dexter’s muffled reply.

I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, closing my eyes, trying to come to terms with it all. I slept with Dexter. Dexter and I have had sex. The words don’t connect, they make no sense. David and I had sex. I can handle that. Even if it’s not quite the truth.

Resolved, I open my eyes. Leaning against the opposite wall, watching me, is Talis. Great.

“Good morning.”

I push off the door and start down the hall, back towards my bedroom. Talis follows.

“You and Hunt. I have to say I never saw that one coming.”

“Grow up. I’m sure you were in on the decision to send him upstairs to seduce me.”

“Yeah, upstairs. I had no idea you’d continue any extracurricular activities once you knew who he really was.” He grabs my arm and turns me to face him. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“It was just once, and it didn’t mean anything. So, I’ll repeat: grow up.”

I try to push him off, and we stumble against the wall. I can feel his closeness in my chest; my body remembers what it’s like to be this close to him.

“Besides,” I say softly. “Feelings don’t just evaporate.”

Talis’ eyes have softened. He wants to kiss me, and I want to let him. If I just turned my face slightly, it could happen. What’s the matter with me? I am not the sort of girl who jumps out of one guy’s bed and into another’s arms. My brain doesn’t know who it belongs to anymore.