THE DRUGGED BRIDE

CHAPTER FOUR : The Choice

Riley's POV

"Pack what?" I say, but Landon moves to his room. I tail him like some stray dog, my head a mess. "Landon, come on. Just say what's up. I'm so lost."

He gets a huge bag from the closet and pops it open on the bed. Then he heads to his drawers and starts tossing clothes in there without a glance. Fancy jeans. Pricey shirts. Things that all seem alike but might cost more than all my stuff put together.

"My folks pry a lot," he says at last, still not at me. "My mom the most. She's sharp and doubts things fast. If you go home now, she'll have your tale checked. She'll ring your dad. She'll hunt for who you are and what you do. And when she finds zero ties to us till last night, she'll see I'm fibbing."

"So we just vanished?" I feel fear fill my chest. "We flee as one?"

"We don't flee now. We make it true." He then stares at me, and his eyes feel icy and set. "Or just true enough that my folks buy it. We hang out a lot. We're seen as one. We make a tale that clicks."

"For what length?" I say, even though I fear what’s coming.

Landon says not a word now. He packs more, throwing things in the bag. He’s just stalling to think about words he hoped to dodge.

"I don't know now," he says at last. "Till my mom quits asking stuff. Till folks quit being nosy. Maybe some weeks. Maybe past that."

Time is passing by. Like bad air, the words just stayed there. Acting for weeks now. Telling tales for weeks now. Spending weeks as fake me, with a guy who trapped me here.

"What if I just don't?" The words are soft and weak. "What if I leave right now and tell everyone what really went down?"

Landon froze up. He turned all the way toward me, face so grim I stepped back. He came closer bit by bit, and I felt the risk in each move. He didn't touch, but got close enough I had to look up.

"You can't do that," he said real softly. "If you do that, I'll make sure everyone knows you came to my place by choice. That you wanted this. I'll tell your dad his sweet girl slept in my bed. I'll say you knew all of it. He won't ever trust you again."

"That's not true," I mumbled.

"Yeah, it is. And you'll be a girl who cried wolf then changed her mind when she saw it might hurt her job and name. Do you know what people do to girls like that, Riley? Do you know how hard they make things?"

I really do know. I've heard some tales. Girls who speak out then get ruined for it. Girls who become liars to all, no matter what's true.

"This is not right," I said, voice cracking.

"Life is strange," Landon says back. He drifts toward his bag, still packing up. "You must get it now. You're that sad girl whose mom died, stuck with mean steps. You know more than most that life feels odd."

He is right here. That is just so sad. He knows that's true.

I sink onto the bed, tears wanting out, but no. Tears do no good now. Tears fix nothing ever.

"What to say to Dad?" I then ask.

"Say you met me, you like me too. That I want you with me for some time. Quick, yes, but good. Say things to make him think you feel joy." Landon zips up that bag and looks right at me. "Can you act like that?"

I nod since I must do it now. I'm stuck with bad choices, one much worse than all.

"Where do we go now?" is what I ask.

"My folks own a house up north. We stayed there for days. Mom sees us close. She sees how we stare. She thinks this is love. Back in the city, folks see us paired. They quit with the questions."

One week. He wants me a week with him who hurt me. A week of fakeness. A week playing roles in lies that are thick.

"One more small thing," Landon then says, with a sound that makes me feel quite sick. "My folks buy it if you seem right. You need new looks. You need to glow."

"Huh? Speak clearly." I peek at the clothes covering me. The perfect-fit jeans and sweater baffle me. "Is my look a problem?"

"You’re fine, really. But you seem like a dad's girl doing small work. You’re not my ideal type at all. So get a new hairdo before leaving. Buy new clothes, too. Just get what you require to look worthy of my presence."

He speaks like he's fixing some old car or getting new art. Like I'm just a thing needing upgrades soon.

"Who funds all that stuff?" I ask, knowing the answer will hurt my heart a bit.

"I will. It is like a story investment for us." He gives me his device. "Call Dad. Say you're home soon to grab items. Pack a bag. Say you are gone a week with me. Trick him, dear."

My hands twitch when I grab the device. I know what Dad will say to me. He'll be lost and very confused. He'll be mad maybe. But he won't stop me ever. He's just too busy to keep his sad life together to care about me.

"Landon," I say before the call starts. "Why do that now? Why care what your mom thinks? Why not just let me leave soon?"

He stares a bit, and I glimpse something in his eyes like slight regret. But it's gone soon, swapped for that cold, empty, scary stare.

With a shrug, he states, "Letting you leave makes it seem like you tricked me. It makes it seem as though I was dumb enough to be caught in your plan. People don't trick Landon Cooper and get away without paying."

He spins away from me then, grabbing his scattered things.

I stare at the device in my grip, seeing that by making this call, I'm going to flip everything upside down. My dad trusts every made-up story I tell. He trusts me like that. Once the words escape my lips, they can't be called back.

I take a breath, fingers tapping the numbers.

"Hey, Dad?" I ask once he picks up. "I need to talk. This is gonna blow your mind."

As I speak untruths to my father, I get a strange vibe that this moment will ripple through my whole life in ways I'm not ready for yet.