A Love Song for Liars (Rivals #1) - Piper Lawson Page 0,20

other people like Tyler into it.

“You don’t get to decide this, Dad. I’ve already made my choice. If you won’t give me permission, I’ll stop showing up to calculus.”

“Do that and you're grounded."

I scoff. “You don’t know what that means.”

“I’ll figure it out. And so help me, you won’t leave the house except to go to school for the rest of the semester.”

I yank the door open and start into the hall.

"Where are you going?" Dad growls at my back.

“If I’m going to be grounded next week, I’ll enjoy my freedom while I can.”

7

“Can you believe the chicks?” Brandon goads me. “It’s like a buffet.”

I tune my guitar on the little box stage and survey the living room of the frat house packed with bodies. “We’re here to play.”

“Yeah, we are.” The wicked inflection in his voice lets me know exactly what kind of playing he has in mind.

Brandon’s a good guy. Sure, he’s loaded and a little entitled, but he’s a straight shooter.

I don’t count on him to have my back, but then, I’ve learned that’s an unrealistic expectation to have of anyone.

Trisha comes up on stage. She shifts close enough I smell perfume and plants a flirty kiss that tastes like beer on me before I can dodge it. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Sure.” I don’t say she’s paying me, though it’s true.

She bounces away, and I turn to adjust my amp.

“So, that’s how you do it.” Brandon looks impressed. “You really don’t give a fuck.”

There’s a short list of things I care about, and girls aren’t on it. I would never disrespect them, and I would never pretend to care when I don’t, which is why I’ve been candid with Trisha about what we are.

She helps me out with what I need. It’s a transaction.

A couple times, things went further when my head was messed up.

But that was a mistake, and I told her as much.

We’re getting ready to start when my phone jumps in my pocket. Brandon sends me a WTF look, but I shake him off when I see the number.

I duck out into the hallway and hit Accept.

“My dad is an autocrat.” Annie’s incredulous voice has my brows lifting. “I did what you suggested, and he lost his shit.”

Warning bells go off in my head. “What did I suggest?”

“To do whatever it takes to be good. I told him I’m dropping calculus to focus on the musical, and he freaked out.”

I pick at the corner of the wallpaper in the hallway, the bruises on my knuckles fading. “So, lock yourself in your room and crank The Struts for twelve hours. Problem solved.”

“I didn’t call you because I wanted you to solve it. I called because I needed to tell someone, and I can’t tell anyone else.”

Most people can’t understand the pressure that comes with this life, with her life.

There’s so much to say to that, but what comes out is, “I thought you blocked my phone.”

“I unblocked it.“

“When?”

Annie doesn’t answer, but I want to know whether it was before Monday night when she came by the pool house or after.

“What do you want?”

“I want to forget you.”

But last night, I found the notes from the English class I’d missed on my doorstop.

No reasonable person would read so much into two sheets of paper, but it was almost as if she’d opened the door a crack and was waiting for one of us to step through.

“I’m playing a set,” I hear myself say, “but I’ll be back later if you want to talk.”

Trisha’s probably hoping I’ll crash with her, but I can’t stay here if I know Annie’s spinning out across town.

“Forget it,” she says.

I don’t want to get sucked in. Annie’s little rebellions are usually more like silent protests anyway.

But she has a car. Who knows where she’d go?

“Wait,” I say before she can hang up. “I’m gonna give you an address. Don’t get lost, and don’t get into trouble.”

Annie snorts. “I’m not coming to find you, and I never get into—”

I click off, exhaling hard as I text her the address.

The girl’s walking trouble. Everywhere she goes, people watch her. Not because she’s Jax Jamieson’s kid, but because she has this energy you can’t ignore.

As we play our first few songs, I notice the ache in my hand has subsided and I’m almost back to a hundred percent. Not that anyone here’s in a state to appreciate it. The crowd is plied with alcohol and noise. They want to drink and dance and—judging