The basement-level rec room of the Banerjee house has been transformed into a makeshift dance floor. The space is huge and finished in smooth, cream-colored stucco and adobe tiling, with moody, striking desert-scape photography adorning the walls. The plush sectional sofas have been pushed aside to make room for the crush of bodies. Tea lights flicker down here, too, casting wavering shadows along the walls.
Someone has queued an eighties dance playlist, and the room is frenzied, smelling of a sweaty mix of summery, floral perfumes. It’s actually slightly suffocating, and I’d rather be outside again in the cool, fresh night air, but dancing with Aidan is the best way to fast-track my plan. I glance around me as I lead Aidan onto the dance floor. Thayer hasn’t come inside. Once again, I’m tense. Did he decide I wasn’t worth it?
Aidan and I sway to some classic Madonna—Aidan doing more of a dorky knee-dip/head-bob thing—and I try to lose myself in the music, closing my eyes and feeling the rhythm. But my mind is scattered in a million different directions. What is Thayer doing right now? Has he gone back to Laurel? I move closer to Aidan, resting a hand on his hip flirtatiously and drawing his face in toward mine. Aidan grins and wraps his arms around my shoulders in response, resting his clasped hands lightly on the back of my neck. We turn and twirl, navigating the crowded floor as people actually step aside for us. Until there’s a tap at Aidan’s shoulder and we pause, mid-step.
I look up, and my heart soars. Two searing beautiful hazel eyes search mine.
“Mind if I cut in?” Thayer asks, his look implying that no is not an option. The question is for me, not for Aidan, and I can’t bring myself to decline.
Aidan puffs out his chest just like a male bird during mating season. But something in Thayer’s face makes him back down. “Okay,” he says reluctantly. He looks at me. “Another beer?”
“Thanks, Aidan.” I offer him a sweet smile to smooth the moment over.
Thayer moves toward me, and when he touches my hip, anticipation ripples down my spine. The music switches from upbeat to a slow, languid ballad. We exchange a glance, barely hesitating before melting into each other.
Suddenly, everything feels utterly right. He does like me. I can feel it in his fast heartbeat, his shallow breathing, his sigh. I inhale deeply, taking in Thayer’s clean scent. He places one hand on the small of my back, and my skin tingles. I rest my fingers on his shoulders, tracing patterns against the strong, firm muscles of his back. We pull away for a moment and stare at each other, both with small smiles on our faces. We don’t speak. There is no need to speak.
Thayer leans in to whisper in my ear. “Let’s get out of here,” he says softly. His lips against my cheek make me shiver.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
He takes my hand and winds me through the crush of people again, upstairs and out the front door.
There isn’t anyone else in the front yard, and we crunch through the gravel until we’re out of the porch lights. A slight breeze blows the spiny branches of a mesquite tree, and stars glitter a psychedelic pattern against an obsidian backdrop. Halfway across the yard, Thayer turns to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. There’s a heartbreakingly gorgeous smile on his face, and suddenly, I feel silly for the games I’ve played.
“Thayer, I’m sorry,” I start.
“Shh,” he says. He puts his finger to his lips, then moves forward to kiss me. Softly, at first, and then with more urgency. I fold into him, wrapping my hands around his waist and pulling him toward me tightly. His hands slide down my back as I rake my fingers through his messy waves.
His lips trace my earlobe, my jaw, my neck. I moan, arching back and clutching him tighter. I’ve kissed other guys before, but nothing compares to this.
We don’t speak, just kiss and touch and breathe each other in. We’re completely intertwined, like we’re the only two people who exist in the universe. In fact, it’s almost like we’re one person, we’re so completely and utterly in tune with each other. I never want to separate.
Until I hear a rustle from the hedges. And then a wicked cackle. I shoot away. That’s Madeline’s laugh.
But before I can say anything, before I can stop them, Charlotte and Madeline are jumping out of the bushes, camera phones in hands, triumphant looks on their faces. “Gotcha, Thayer!” they scream as the flashes go off.
12
SURPRISE, SURPRISE
Thayer and I blink in the flashes of light. “Gotcha!” Char crows again.
“You are so busted, Thayer!” Madeline squeals.
Thayer makes an annoyed face. “What the hell, guys?”
“Say cheese!” Madeline trills, taking another picture. Then she turns to Charlotte and slaps her high five. “Another Lying Game success!”