A Love Song for Liars (Rivals #1) - Piper Lawson Page 0,31

of the vowels and consonants in my head, my mouth, my throat.

I pour everything into keeping my voice level. When he reaches the back of my bra, he reverses directions, stroking back down.

Slower.

Harder.

My shoulders start to shake.

Tyler’s touch searing my skin is nothing like Carly’s sabotage. It’s hard to keep going for an entirely different reason. Every phrase is harder to execute; every word is a struggle for my brain; each vowel sticks in my throat.

Finally, I finish, and his touch falls away.

He doesn’t move. His breath skims my ear when he speaks. “There. That wasn’t so terrible.”

When I turn my head, all I see is his damned perfect mouth at eye level. A wave of longing washes over me. “No. It wasn’t.”

I wait for him to pull back or to crack a joke.

He doesn’t.

His lashes lower, and holy hell, he’s staring at my mouth too, as if it’s all he wants.

Do it.

I want you to.

I swallow, leaning in a millimeter at a time.

His body is tight, controlled. I want to know what happens when he lets go.

“Tyler! You in there?”

My dad’s voice from the driveway outside has Tyler stepping back smoothly.

Like that, the moment’s gone. As if it never even happened.

He reaches for his guitar and jerks his head toward the door, expression unreadable. “I’ll catch you at dinner.”

I lick my lips, nodding. “Yeah.”

The touching wasn’t terrible.

The part where he leaves me wanting more and knowing I’m not going to get it...

That part sucks hard.

10

My weekend did not go as planned.

I’d expected to hang with Brandon and the other guys from our band, fix a weird sound my bike’s been making, and lay down some music with Jax.

I did those things, but they’re not what I remember come Monday, especially when I catch sight of the girl with long, red hair heading determinedly for my locker at lunch.

“You need a new guitar,” Annie states, leaning against the locker next to mine. The side of her forehead meets the metal as she cocks her head at me. “This soph is selling one that looked amazing, so I lined it up for you to try.”

I shut the door. “Seriously?”

“And you have a free period. So, let’s go,” she insists, bobbing next to me down the hall.

Her slow smile has my abs tightening.

I sneak a look at her, the skirt that swings against her smooth thighs, her breasts outlined by the jacket, her silky hair waving over one shoulder.

I was getting used to seeing her in shorts, jeans, bathing suits, but she looks really fucking pretty in her school uniform.

Even if it has me thinking about what’s underneath.

“You just want an excuse to hang out with me,” I drawl as we fall into step together.

“This is a favor. I’m sick of you.”

But we basically have been hanging out.

All weekend.

She needs help. I give it to her.

No, I don’t advertise to Jax that we’re spending time together. It’s simpler that way.

But it’s addictive the way she listens, how she tries.

When she sings, her voice is smooth and rough at once, velvet with a raw edge. Unpolished, but there’s a realness you can’t fake, an earnest emotion that grabs you by the base of your spine.

Girl’s got a gift.

I’ve never gotten invested in anyone else’s music before, but I want her to succeed, and I want to be there when she does. To see the lightbulb go off when she figures something out, when a piece clicks into place in that beautiful mind of hers.

We get to the all-purpose room and meet the guy with the guitar.

He introduces himself and gestures to the open case.

“Wow,” he says to Annie when I start playing.

I tune out whatever he says next, needing to get a read on the sound, the feel, the weight of the instrument under my hands.

It’s actually not bad. I’ve played some nice guitars of Jax’s and the one at Zeke’s the other day, but maybe I have been slumming it too much with the one I got before I knew I was gonna do this for a lifetime.

“How much?” I say when I set it down.

He shrugs. “How’s two?”

“Two hundred?”

“Two thousand.”

I’m about to say hell no when Annie grabs my arm. “Give us a second.”

She pulls me out into the hall, half-empty since everyone’s at lunch.

“Do you like it?”

My laugh is humorless. “Yeah, but two large is insane.”

She reaches into her wallet and pulls out a thick stack of twenties, two fifties on top. “He’ll negotiate.”

My hand closes over hers, the warmth