Between The Lies

Chapter 3: The Party

LUCA

I hate parties.

But Stella's going to this one, which means I have to go too. Not that I can explain that to anyone without sounding insane.

I'm already dressed—black jeans, dark hoodie, the usual—sitting on the couch and trying to convince myself this is normal. That being this aware of my sister's plans is normal. That needing to be wherever she is, even when it's killing me, is somehow okay.

It's not okay. None of this is okay.

"Luca? Can we go?"

Her voice floats down from upstairs, and I look up.

Then I wish I hadn't.

Stella's standing at the top of the stairs in a dress I've never seen before. It's short—too short—and black, fitting her in ways that make my brain short-circuit. Her hair is down in loose waves, and she's wearing makeup that makes her eyes look even bigger.

She looks beautiful.

She looks like every guy at that party is going to look at her the way I'm looking at her right now.

And I can't breathe.

"What?" She starts coming down the stairs, and I stand up abruptly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.

"Like... I don't know. Like something's wrong." She reaches the bottom step, and I can smell her perfume. The one I bought her for her birthday last year. "Can we go? Mia's already there and—"

"Change your dress."

She blinks. "What?"

"Go upstairs and change. Now."

"Are you serious right now?" Her eyes flash with anger. "What's wrong with my dress?"

Everything. It's too short. Too tight. Too much. Every guy at that party is going to—

"Just change it, Stella."

"No! This is ridiculous. You don't get to tell me what to wear."

"I'm your brother—"

"Barely!" The word explodes out of her. "You've been avoiding me for months, acting like I don't exist, and now suddenly you care what I wear?"

The accusation hits like a punch to the gut because she's right. I've been distant. Cold. Anything to protect her from the truth.

But this? Watching her walk into a party full of drunk guys in that dress?

"You know I care," I say quietly.

"Do I?" Her voice cracks. "Because it doesn't feel like it, Luca. It feels like you can't stand to be around me. Like I did something wrong and you won't tell me what."

God, if she only knew.

"That's not—" I stop myself. Can't finish that sentence without revealing too much. "Just change the dress."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

Because I can already see Derek's hands on your waist. Because I know exactly how every guy there is going to look at you. Because the thought of anyone else seeing you like this makes me violent.

"It's too short."

"It's a party dress!"

"It's inappropriate."

"You sound like Dad." She crosses her arms, defensive. "Actually, no. Dad wouldn't even notice. He's never here. At least he has an excuse for not caring."

The words sting more than they should.

"I care, Stella. That's why I'm telling you to change."

"No." She moves toward the door. "I'm going like this. You can either drive me or I'll get an Uber."

She's serious. She's actually going to walk out that door in that dress, and I won't be able to stop her.

Unless I go with her.

"Fine." I grab my keys off the table. "But I'm driving. And I'm staying the entire time."

"What? Why?"

Because I don't trust anyone at that party. Because Derek's going to try something. Because I need to be there even if it kills me.

"Because that's what brothers do," I mutter, walking past her toward the door.

I can feel her staring at me, confused and hurt and angry all at once.

"You're being weird," she says quietly.

"Yeah, well. Get used to it."

I head out to the car without looking back, because if I look at her again—if I see that dress again—I might do something stupid.

Like tell her the truth.

Like beg her to change because I can't handle seeing other guys look at her.

Like admit that I stopped being just her brother a long time ago.

The drive to Jake's house is tense and silent.

Jake's house is packed. Music's too loud, people are too drunk, and I've been nursing the same Coke for an hour while pretending to be interested in conversations about the showcase next week.

But really, I'm watching her.

Stella's by the kitchen with Mia, looking uncomfortable in the way only I would notice. Some soccer player is talking to her, standing too close, and my grip on the cup tightens until the plastic cracks.

"Dude, you good?" Derek appears next to me, already tipsy. "You've been standing in this corner like a creep all night."

"I'm fine."

"You're staring at your sister again. That's weird, man."

My jaw clenches. "I'm not staring. I'm just making sure she's okay."

"She's seventeen, not seven. She can handle herself." Derek grins and claps me on the shoulder. "Besides, I'm about to make her night a whole lot better. Wish me luck."

Every muscle in my body goes tense. "Derek—"

But he's already gone, cutting through the crowd toward Stella.

I should stay here. I should let it happen. Derek's a good guy. He'd treat her right. This is what normal brothers do—they support their sisters dating decent guys.

Except I'm not a normal brother.

And the thought of his hands on her makes me want to break something.

I watch as Derek reaches her, sees the way his smile gets wider, the way he leans in close to talk over the music. Stella steps back slightly—good girl—but Mia is practically shoving her forward, encouraging it.

The music shifts to something slower.

No. No, no, no.

Derek says something that makes Mia squeal, and then he's leading Stella to the makeshift dance floor in Jake's living room.

I'm moving before I can stop myself.

Derek's hands land on Stella's waist, pulling her close. She puts her hands on his shoulders, maintaining distance, but he's not getting the message. He pulls her closer, and I can see the discomfort written all over her face.

The face I know better than my own.

"They look good together, don't they?"

Mia's suddenly beside me, watching them with this satisfied smile that makes my stomach turn.

"She doesn't look comfortable," I say flatly.

"Oh, she's just shy. She'll warm up to him." Mia sips her drink. "It's perfect, actually. If they get together, and we get together—"

"We're not getting together."

The words come out harsher than I mean them to, and Mia's face falls.

"Oh. I just thought... I mean, you smiled at me this morning, and I thought maybe—"

"I smile at everyone, Mia. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea."

I don't wait for her response. I'm already pushing through the crowd because Derek's hands are sliding lower on Stella's back and she's got that look on her face like she's trying to be polite but really wants to run.

"Stella."

She turns, and the relief that floods her expression makes something in my chest crack wide open.

"Luca."

"We need to go. It's late."

"Dude, it's barely eleven," Derek protests, his hands still on my sister. On. My. Sister. "We're just having fun."

"Stella doesn't look like she's having fun."

"Why don't you let her speak for herself?" Derek's getting defensive now. "You're not her keeper, man."

"I'm her brother."

"Yeah, and she's almost eighteen. Back off."

The tension between us crackles. People are starting to notice. Starting to watch.

I don't care.

"Stella." I look at her, really look at her, and ask the only question that matters. "Do you want to stay?"

She glances at Derek, at Mia who's watching from the side with wide eyes, at all the people staring.

Then back at me.

"No," she says quietly. "I want to go home."

Derek looks genuinely surprised. "Seriously?"

"She said she wants to leave," I say, already reaching for her hand. "So we're leaving."

The moment my fingers close around hers, everything else disappears. Her hand is small and warm and fits perfectly in mine, and I have to remind myself this doesn't mean anything. I'm just getting her out of here. That's all.

I pull her through the crowd, ignoring Mia calling after us, ignoring Derek's protests, ignoring everything except the need to get Stella away from there.

We burst out into the cool night air, and Stella yanks her hand free.

"What the hell was that?"

"Get in the car."

"You just embarrassed me in front of everyone!"

"Get in the car, Stella."

Something in my voice makes her comply, but I can see the anger building. Good. I'd rather have her angry than uncomfortable. Rather have her yelling at me than smiling politely while some guy who doesn't deserve her puts his hands all over her.

The drive home is silent. Tense. I'm gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white, and beside me, Stella is radiating fury.

When we pull into our empty driveway—parents still in Tokyo, of course—she's out of the car before I've even turned off the engine.

I follow her inside, and the second the front door closes, she whirls on me.

"What is your problem?" Her voice echoes in the marble entryway. "You've been avoiding me for months, barely talking to me, acting like I don't exist, and then you just... just pull me out of there like that?"

"He was making you uncomfortable."

"So what? That's my business!"

"Like hell it is."

"What's that supposed to mean? You're my brother, not my babysitter!"

"He had his hands all over you, Stella. You clearly didn't want them there."

"How would you even know what I want? You don't talk to me anymore!" Her voice cracks, and it breaks something inside me. "You won't look at me, you won't eat dinner with me, you leave rooms when I walk in. What did I do, Luca? What did I do to make you hate me?"

"I don't hate you." The words rip out of me. "God, Stella, I don't hate you."

"Then what? Because I don't understand!" Tears are building in her eyes now. "You're my brother. You're my best friend. Or you were. And now I don't even recognize you."

"That's because you don't know—" I stop myself, but it's too late.

"Don't know what? Tell me!"

"I can't."

"Why not?" She steps closer, and I step back until my spine hits the wall. "We used to tell each other everything. Why can't you just talk to me?"

"Because everything's different now."

"Why? What changed?"

Everything. You. Me. The way I look at you. The way I can't stop thinking about you. The way your smile makes my chest ache and your laugh sounds like coming home and the thought of anyone else touching you makes me violent.

"Nothing changed," I lie. "I'm just stressed. School, music, everything."

"That's bullshit and you know it." She's right in front of me now, close enough that I can smell her perfume. "Something's wrong. Something's been wrong for months. Just tell me what it is so we can fix it."

"We can't fix this."

"Why not?"

"Because—" The words catch in my throat. Because I'm in love with you. Because every song I write is about you. Because I can't be around you without wanting things I have no right to want.

"Because what?" Her hand touches my arm, and I flinch like I've been burned. "Luca, please. You're scaring me."

"I'm scaring myself," I admit quietly.

"Then talk to me. Whatever it is, we can—"

"Oh!" Her whole demeanor shifts suddenly, and she steps back. "I almost forgot. Mia wanted me to ask you something."

My blood runs cold. "What?"

"She wants to know if you'd want to get coffee with her. After the showcase." Stella's smiling now, like this is normal sibling conversation. Like she's not killing me. "She really likes you, Luca. Like, really likes you. And I think you guys would be good together."

Every word is a knife.

"You think I should date Mia." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

"Well, yeah. She's amazing. She's sweet and funny and she's been into you for months." Stella's still smiling, completely oblivious. "Plus, you know, it would be nice. We could all hang out together. You, me, Mia, and—"

"And Derek?"

She blinks. "I mean, maybe? Derek seems interested, but I don't know if I—"

"You should go for it." The words taste like poison. "Derek's a good guy. He'd treat you right."

"I'm not really interested in Derek."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just... I don't feel anything when he looks at me." She shrugs, like it's no big deal. Like she doesn't realize she's describing exactly how I feel about everyone who isn't her. "But that's not the point. The point is Mia. Will you at least think about it? About coffee with her?"

No. Never. I'd rather die than sit across from Mia and pretend to be interested while all I can think about is you.

"Fine," I hear myself say. "I'll think about it."

Her whole face lights up. "Really? Oh my god, she's going to be so happy! You guys will be so cute together!"

I want to throw up.

"Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." She steps back, and the space between us feels like a canyon. "I just... I want you to be happy, Luca. You seem so sad all the time now."

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, but I don't believe you." She's looking at me with those brown eyes that see too much. "I miss you. I miss us. I miss when we used to talk about everything and stay up late watching movies and just... be normal."

Normal. Right. Because there's nothing normal about the way I feel about her.

"I miss that too," I admit. Because I do. I miss when things were simple. When I could hug her without my heart racing. When I could look at her without wanting. When being her brother was enough.

"So can we try? Can we try to go back to how things were?"

"We can't go back, Stella."

"Why not?"

"Because some things, once they change, they can't be unchanged."

She looks confused. Hurt. "I don't understand what that means."

"I know." That's the problem. She doesn't understand, and I can never make her understand without destroying everything.

An awkward silence falls between us. Heavy with everything I can't say.

"I should go to bed," I finally say. "It's late."

"Luca—"

"Goodnight, Stella."

I move past her, heading for the stairs, but her voice stops me.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is you're dealing with, I'm here. I'm always here."

I close my eyes, my hand on the banister. "I know."

"Then why won't you let me in?"

Because letting you in would mean losing you forever.

"It's complicated."

"So uncomplicate it."

If only it were that simple.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

I take the stairs two at a time, leaving her standing in the entryway. Leaving her confused and hurt and alone.

Because that's what I do now. I hurt the person I love most in the world to protect her from the truth.

In my room, I grab my guitar and play angry chords that don't resolve. Play until my fingers ache and my chest feels slightly less like it's caving in.

My phone buzzes.

Derek: What the hell man? We need to talk about boundaries.

Mia: Is everything okay? Stella left so suddenly. Is she mad at me?

I ignore them both.

Then another text comes through.

Stella: I don't know what's happening between us, but I'm not giving up on you. You're my brother and I love you. We'll figure this out.

I stare at those words. You're my brother and I love you.

Brother. Love.

Two words that should fit together perfectly but feel all wrong in my context.

I should respond. Should say something. But what?

That I love her too, but not the way a brother should?

That every time she says "brother" it feels like a reminder of everything I can never have?

That her trying to set me up with Mia is torture?

That the thought of her with Derek makes me want to put my fist through a wall?

I don't text back.

Instead, I go to my window and look across to hers. Her light's still on. I can see her shadow moving around her room.

Probably texting Mia. Probably excited about playing matchmaker. Probably completely unaware that she's destroying me.

My phone buzzes again.

Stella: Please don't shut me out. Whatever this is, we can fix it. I promise.

But she's wrong.

Some things are too broken to fix.

Some feelings are too wrong to admit.

And some promises can never be kept.

I turn off my phone and lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer I can keep this up.

How much longer until I break completely.

How much longer until she figures it out.

And what happens when she does.