Page 103 of The Lies We Conjure
“I’ll keep you safe, Lavinia.”
Auden looks to me then, with those beautiful eyes, the refined features, the curling wet hair, and my throat catches. I swear he’s closer than before. His breath warming my cheeks.
When I’d first met Auden, I thought his smile was dangerous—that he was the kind of boy who’d wreck you.
But I was wrong.
He’s the one who is already crashed and smoldering.
Scar tissue and burn marks from losing his parents, his innocence. Now, his grandmother is gone, his sense of community, family, order.
I’m not the one who can give any of it back.
But I’m the one who’s here.
Auden’s hands are in my hair, as warm and wonderful as the rest of him. Up close, those eyes are a starburst, dark lashes crowding round, his lips pink on that very nice mouth. One thumb grazes the apple of my cheek.
His lashes flutter, my eyes fall closed, and Auden Hegemony kisses me.
It’s tentative and sweet. He tastes of mint and, yes, peanut butter, but it’s the lavender in his hair and on his skin that seeps into me as I touch his neck, the fine ridge of a clavicle, biceps and forearms and a back made from hard work and time on the lacrosse pitch.
With each new breath, the hesitation evaporates.
For Auden. For me.
His mouth presses hard, more insistent. One of his hands cups the back of my head, the other bracing beside me, on the expensive weave of his grandmother’s rug. The peanut butter jar tips and rolls, the spoons skidding away under one of the chaises, and I laugh a little against his lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing me.
He doesn’t stop until much later, until we peel apart, gasping for air in a room now overly warm. Heat in our blood, flames in the hearth. Still, even now, Auden holds me as if I might disappear, though I’m flush to his side, temples to ankles.
I’m not my sister—I love to write, but I don’t have words for what it’s like kissing a boy who thinks I’m so much more than I am. And so, instead of words, I press my lips to his cheek.
In answer, when I pull away, Auden’s thumb traces my swollen bottom lip, the divot of the dimple I have on one side. “Despite the way the rest of this turned out, I’m glad you came back, Lavinia.”
For a moment—until he says the name that doesn’t belong to me—I think I could be Lavinia.
I could be her and we could share memories, and he could truly love me.
He’s glad for the presence of the girl he thinks I am.
And I don’t know what it says about me, but that feeling that hasn’t been earned by the person I am still wraps me up, tight and warm. Safe.
I tuck my head against the side of his chest and whisper, “Me too.”
Auden’s fingers in the ends of my hair, his strong arm curled around my shoulders, the soft rhythm of his heart give me refuge and I fall into a deep, beautiful sleep.
CHAPTER31
AUDEN
It’s a scream that wakes me.
I push up on one elbow, my other arm buried beneath Lavinia, her hair unfurling like spilled ink over my skin, pale in the gray-blue of the new morning and curtained windows.
I’m gasping as if I’ve been underwater, and though I haven’t wedged myself free, Lavinia stirs at the loss of my body completely and totally next to hers. I blink at the sight of her, and there’s the tiniest of thoughts in the back of my head that perhaps this is a dream. Lavinia Blackgate, here with me, like this.
Then it comes again.
Muffled. Distinct. Anguished. Different from last night’s, but still definitely a scream.
