A Love Song for Liars (Rivals #1) - Piper Lawson Page 0,50

on the hem of the pajama pants I changed into earlier. “Nope. I’m coming.” I retrieve the popcorn from the microwave, dump it in a bowl, and return to the living room.

“Rehearsals going well?” Dad asks as he stretches out on the chaise section of the leather sectional, tugging a blanket over himself.

I stare at him. In light of what’s happened tonight, the musical feels like a million miles away.

I sigh. “Have you ever felt so shitty you couldn’t think about performing?”

Even with my legs out, there’s an expanse between us, and I set the popcorn in some democratic middle zone.

“No.“ He reaches for a handful, and I wait him out while he chews and swallows. “That’s when all you want to think about is performing.”

I turn that over as we watch the movie.

A few weeks ago, that seemed possible. Realistic even. Now, I can’t imagine forgetting what’s happening in favor of my moment in the spotlight.

Somewhere during the movie, Haley walks in the door.

“Did you destroy ‘em?” my dad calls.

“Not that kind of meeting,” she calls back. I hear her boots land on the floor, and she pads down the hall to us. “Did I miss Paul Rudd?”

Dad rubs a hand over his face. “The guy turns into an ant, Hales.”

“And you turn into a musician. I get that the appeal’s inconceivable.” She winks at me as she enters the living room, but her smile fades when she takes in my expression. “What’s wrong?” Her gaze cuts toward the back doors. “Have you seen Tyler?”

The lump in my throat is back, burning. “He went to prom.”

Her expression fills with compassion and something I can’t read before I train my eyes on the TV again.

She squeezes my shoulders. “I’m going to check on Sophie before bed. You guys need anything, let me know.”

It’s after midnight when a noise outside has me jerking straight up. Dad’s fast asleep, and for a second, I think I’ve imagined the sound.

Until I hear it again.

The front door.

My spin straightens.

The light creak of footsteps has me leaning toward the hall, peering around the corner.

Tyler’s in the foyer, his hair messed up. He shrugs out of his tux jacket and vest, something falling from the pocket and hitting the floor with a clatter as he hangs both in the closet.

A broken crown.

Fitting.

He shoves the pieces into his jacket pocket.

Tyler’s tie’s long gone, the top button of his shirt undone. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt as he starts toward me.

I don’t pretend I’m not watching as he crosses silently to the couch, taking in the movie, my dad, the popcorn.

I’d thought I’d be in tears, but there’s nothing, almost as if what I’m feeling is too deep to be expressed.

“I got your letter.” Tyler’s voice is barely audible over the hammering of my heart.

He holds out a folded piece of paper, and after a moment, I take it from him and wad it in my fist, squeezing as if I can turn it to dust.

I take a deep breath and return my attention to the TV.

I pull my knees up to my chin and tuck the edges of the fuzzy blanket around me.

Tyler sits on the couch next to me.

“What are you doing?” My throat tightens.

My dad’s asleep on the other side of the couch, but Tyler presses closer.

I can’t argue, can’t chew him out. Dad would wake up, and Tyler knows it.

He uses it.

Without asking, he moves under the blanket, his arm brushing mine. A shaky breath falls from my lips. That smallest touch sends a shiver through me.

On screen, Thanos wreaks his well-intended-but-ultimately-misguided havoc.

Whatever. I could handle the end of the world.

Dealing with Tyler Adams is some next-level shit.

Especially when his hip presses against mine, his bicep bumping my shoulder under the too-small blanket.

I want him to leave.

I want him to never leave again.

When I lean forward an inch, he takes the invitation, shifting me so he can slide behind.

I’m lying against his chest, feeling his warmth through my back. My heart’s hammering, ticking like the seconds.

I try to focus on Robert Downey Jr. I swallow a sigh and resist rubbing my cheek against Tyler’s chest.

But all I can think is how over the past few weeks, Tyler’s built me up, made me good, made me strong…

Then in an instant, he tore it all away.

17

“Six,” I murmur when the credits roll. “You asleep?”

No answer.

Jax hogs half of the sectional. I can’t be annoyed, because he’s the reason Annie’s breath warms my chest