Page 80 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
“You never give anyone the time of day. You use women and discard them,” Hailey scoffed. “Why don’t you tell Mae the little game you and your friends like to play at the bar on Thursday nights?”
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” Logan’s bicep seemed to grow two inches beneath my grip.
“Just last Thursday you had a girl sucking your dick under the booth.” Hailey tilted her head. “What was her name? Tonya?”
“Let’s go.” I tugged his arm once more. I needed to get him out of here. I needed to get myself out of here before I threw up all over the lawn. I wasn’t sure if Hailey’s words were meant to make me feel this sick, but each comment made me want to vomit more. I let go of his arm and put my hand in his, threading my fingers through his and tugging. He blinked away from her and looked at me, as if he was in a haze. “I want to go home.”
“Let’s go.” He started walking. Finally.
“Bye, Hailey.” I shot Hailey a what the fuck look over my shoulder.
“Don’t let him take advantage of you, Mae,” she called out as we walked away. “Call me tomorrow.”
My hand was still holding Logan’s when we reached his truck. I knew he wouldn’t actually do anything to her, but the screaming match had been enough for me to know they hated each other. It was odd though, she hadn’t made any negative comment about him aside from saying he was an asshole. She must be drunk right now, or on some mind-bending opioid. Probably both.
“She’s drunk,” I said as we got in his truck. “She never acts like this.”
“She’s a bitch.”
I blinked. I’d never heard him say anything like that. We both clicked our seatbelts on and he started driving, his grip tight on the steering wheel.
“She really doesn’t act like this ever,” I said again, my mind still on Hailey.
“Let it go,” Logan said. “She’s just mad I turned her down. She’s a jealous—”
“Bitch, yes, I get it. Please stop calling her that already. She’s my friend and she’s been nice to me.” I frowned as I said that. She had been nice up until today.
“I’ll try.” He pressed the back of his head on the headrest and exhaled loudly. “This is not how I envisioned tonight going.”
“How’d you envision it going?”
“Not like this.”
“I have a confession,” I said after a while.
“What?” His voice was clipped.
I paused before saying, “I thought all Canadians were Casper-white.”
“What?” He barked out a surprised laugh. I eyed his knuckles on the steering wheel and noticed they were no longer white. “What are you talking about?”
“I just always assumed all Canadians were super white. I mean, Alanis Morrissett, Justin Beiber, Celine Dion, Ryan Reynolds . . .”
“Ryan Reynolds isn’t Casper-white.”
“Yeah, but I think he spray tans.” My brows furrowed as I looked at him. “Wait, do you spray tan? Can you even spray tan and get that color?”
“I don’t spray tan.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My mom’s black.”
“Oh.” My frown deepened. “And she’s Canadian?”
“Astounding, isn’t it?” He side-eyed me, still looking amused. “You know, Drake is Canadian and he’s half black.”
“I think his dad is from Texas,” I said. “So it doesn’t count.”
“We’re a true melting pot. We have all colors, races, cultures. You’ve never been to Canada?”
“I can’t say that I have. I want to though.” I smiled. “Now I want to see a picture of your mom.”
“She lives in Colorado.”
“I know, I remember you saying that, but I still want to go to Canada.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Will this trip happen before or after you’re a hot-shot NHL player who will forget all about me?”
His right hand let go of the steering wheel as he reached over, threading his fingers through mine. “I would never forget about you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t respond to it at all. It was probably for the best. My heart felt like it was trying to jackhammer its way out of my body through any trajectory it found—my chest, my throat, my ears, my vagina. I felt it everywhere. This felt like unchartered territory for me. I licked my lips and decided to change the subject.
“So, did you drive this truck all the way down from Canada or did you buy it here?” I asked. “Or did you ship it here?”
“Not all of us have the luxury of white-glove service, you know?” He side-eyed me. My mouth dropped. How did he know about that? Before I could jump in and ask, he continued, “I drove it all the way from Canada. You do realize it’s only a four-hour drive from Toronto, right?”
I snorted. “Yeah, but we’ve already established that I’ve never been.”
“And if you had been, it would’ve been via private jet.”
