The Lies We Tell (The Four #1) - Becca Steele Page 0,75

mother had no right to say anything. How was I going to be able to act normally around him, without blurting it out? And even worse, how was I supposed to keep it a secret from West?

My phone interrupted my melancholy thoughts, vibrating across my desk.

Weston.

West: My brother really likes you.

Me: Hi to you too. And ??? Likes sleeping with me?!

West: I don’t mean that. He’s catching feelings.

Me: What? Why do you say that?

West: He’s a bit drunk.

Me: ???

The three dots appeared as I sat on my bed, impatiently waiting for Weston’s reply. After about five minutes had passed, maybe longer, I suddenly got a long message from him.

West: Cass told him you phoned earlier & you were upset. Said you were trying to get hold of him. He’s worried about you. I can’t remember him ever stressing about a girl before. I know he’s drunk but he’s been talking about you nonstop for the past 10 mins. Not just in a friends kind of way either. Can’t explain it properly but if you were here you’d see.

Right. He’d barely admitted that he wanted to sleep with me; I highly doubted that he had actual feelings for me all of a sudden.

Me: Um. I don’t know what to say to that.

West: He really likes you. I can tell.

Me: He’s drunk. Don’t read too much into it. He’s worried because he’s a good person underneath his asshole exterior. You can tell him I’m OK.

West: Are you OK though? I’m worried too after what Cass told me.

Me: Yes. Mostly. Just more shit with my mother. Talk about it tomorrow?

West: OK. Come for pizza? Z can pick you up. Your car will be ready too.

Me: Finally! No more relying on people for lifts. Sounds good. What time?

West: I’ll check with Z and let you know.

Me: OK.

West: See ya tomorrow.

Me: *thumbs up emoji*

Me: Thanks for checking up on me BTW.

West: I care about you.

West: NOT in the same way as Cade.

Me: Haha. Love you too.

TWENTY-SIX

“Ever been on one of these before?” Zayde raised a brow at me.

“Nope. But it can’t be too hard, right?” I eyed the bike doubtfully. I pulled the straps of my small backpack tighter and stepped closer to the huge beast of a machine. Taking in my expression, Zayde gave me an amused smile and handed me a shiny red helmet.

“Wear that. Hold on to me, and lean with me. Okay?”

“I guess so.” He straddled the bike, all dark, lethal male, with ripped jeans and black boots and his leather jacket stretched over his biceps. Yeah. Not that I was interested, but he was insanely hot.

And he still scared me, to be completely honest.

Pulling the helmet on, I climbed onto the bike behind him. He reached back and pulled my arms around his waist, then snapped his visor down. The engine came to life with a powerful roar that I felt through my entire body, and I screamed, mostly with excitement but partly from fear as we shot away from the campus and onto the main roads. I hung on to Zayde with a death grip to begin with, but once I got used to the feel of the bike, I loosened my grip slightly, leaning into the turns with him. By the time we came to a halt outside the Four’s house, I had a huge smile across my face.

“That was amazing,” I told him as I climbed off the bike on slightly shaky legs and handed him the helmet I’d been wearing.

“Give me a bike over a car any day.” He jogged up the steps to the house, leaving me next to the bike.

“Hey, wait. Where’s everyone?” The driveway was completely empty.

He paused with his hand on the door and turned back around to face me. “Don’t know where Cass is. Cade and West have gone to pick your car up.”

He disappeared inside the house, leaving the door open for me. I reached the front steps when I heard the distinct low, throaty purr of Caiden’s R8 and spun around.

He stepped out, and I drank him in.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He was distant, closed off, his face an inscrutable mask.

“Winter!” came the shout, and I tore my eyes away from Caiden’s to see Weston grinning at me, standing next to my car.

Except it wasn’t my car.

“What happened to my car?” I ran towards Weston and skidded to a halt in front of my little Fiat 500.

“Caiden asked the garage to make a few improvements,” he told me in a low voice.