BEAUTIFUL LIAR

CHAPTER 4

(Thomas's house)

"AHHHH!!!" I let out a scream, startled out of my mind.

Thomas burst into laughter, clearly entertained by my reaction.

I love horror movies. But damn it, those unexpected jump scares always get me.

We were sprawled out in his room, watching some supernatural thriller that was way too good at messing with my nerves. His room was huge—big enough to fit a full-sized couch and a massive TV, with an en-suite bathroom too. I didn't need a neon sign to tell me his family had money.

Not long after, Galathie returned home from cheer practice. But, as usual, she barely acknowledged us. She was too busy setting up her phone, ready to go live for her fans.

Whatever. That was her thing.

As Thomas and I focused on the movie again, I hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Thomas," I blurted out.

"Hmm?" He didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"I want to... be friends with Tyler."

The second the words left my mouth, his expression shifted. The lighthearted amusement vanished, replaced by that cold, unreadable look he did so well.

"You can't even talk to him without tripping over your own damn words," he deadpanned. "Maybe fix your little 'fear of men' problem first."

I pressed my lips together, annoyed.

Because... well, he wasn't wrong.

"Let me teach you."

Thomas leaned in closer, his puppy-dog eyes brimming with fake innocence.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I scowled, leaning back instinctively.

"Tyler's not into plain, sugar-free-milk girls like you. He goes for the Megan type—big boobs, big ass, spicy as hell."

I frowned, crossing my arms. I wanted to argue, but... he wasn't wrong. Tyler did seem to like Megan.

"And how exactly do you plan on teaching me?"

"I'm gonna turn you into someone hotter and spicier than Megan herself."

I hesitated. I liked Tyler—a lot. But changing myself completely to match Megan? That sounded exhausting.

"You mean, like, a makeover? One of those movie transformations where I get new clothes and better hair?"

Thomas shook his head. "Looks are just half of it. You need game. You gotta know how to flirt."

I instantly turned red. Flirt? Me? I went to an all-girls school my whole life. I barely even talked to guys, let alone flirted. I shook my head furiously.

"Wow. Giving up already?" he taunted. "Might as well let Megan snatch Tyler up and eat him alive."

"I could try all I want, but I'll never beat her," I muttered.

Thomas smirked. "I'm Tyler's best friend. I know what kind of girl he likes."

I hesitated again. My heart waged war with my logic. I really liked Tyler. Maybe it was worth trying—just once. Even if it didn't work, at least I wouldn't regret not doing anything.

"...Fine. Teach me."

He smirked, and just like that, the innocent puppy-dog gaze in his eyes shifted—sharp, predatory, like a wolf that had finally cornered its prey.

He moved in closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes locked onto mine, unwavering.

"Touch me."

"Huh!?" I blurted out, recoiling slightly.

"You need to get over your awkwardness with guys first," he said smoothly. "It'll help you stop freezing up around them."

My throat went dry. "T-Touch you... where?" My voice came out embarrassingly shaky.

He was gay—definitely gay—but his body was still that of a man. A ridiculously good-looking man.

My fingers twitched at my sides, and I suddenly became hyper-aware of every inch of space between us... or rather, how little space there was left.

He slowly took one of my hands in his, his fingers warm and slightly rough against my skin. The moment our palms met, a shiver ran up my spine, though I wasn't sure if it was from nerves or something else—something far more dangerous.

With a deliberate slowness that made my breath hitch, he intertwined our fingers, locking them together as if claiming ownership over my touch. His grip was firm yet gentle, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand in slow, teasing strokes. The sensation sent a ripple of heat through me, unfamiliar and unsettling.

"Step one," he murmured, his voice low, velvety, almost sinful.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as I stared down at our joined hands. My heartbeat was deafening in my own ears, drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. I had never held a boy's hand like this before—never felt this kind of electric pull, this strange mix of anticipation and fear curling in the pit of my stomach.

When I dared to lift my gaze, I found his eyes already on me, sharp and unreadable, gleaming with something unreadable in the dim light. Gone was the playful, puppy-like innocence from before—what stared back at me now was something darker, something predatory.

"You're trembling," he noted, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

I was. I could feel the slight shake in my fingers, the way my chest rose and fell just a little too quickly.

"Relax," he murmured, eyes locked onto mine. "We're just getting started."

Knock, knock, knock.

The sudden knocking on the door shattered the thick tension in the room, making me jolt and yank my hand back like I had been burned. Thomas let out an irritated sigh, his jaw tightening as he turned toward the door, clearly unhappy about being interrupted.

"What the hell do you want, Galathia?" he snapped, his voice laced with frustration.

"Mom said to help bring the groceries in from the car," came the sing-song reply, followed by a muffled giggle.

Of course. Galathia, the ultimate little sister menace. If there was an opportunity to mess with Thomas, she took it. Every single time.

I seized the moment. "I-I should probably go now, then," I stammered, scrambling to my feet.

"Wait—!" Thomas started, reaching out as if to stop me, but I was already snatching up my bag and practically bolting for the door. No way in hell was I sticking around for this.

I dashed downstairs, my heart still hammering from... whatever that had been. I barely made it three steps before I ran straight into Thomas's mom, who was carrying a bag of groceries inside.

"Oh! Hello, Vivian!" she greeted me with a bright smile, effortlessly balancing a bag of vegetables on one hip.

"H-Hi, Mrs. Ria!" I squeaked, trying desperately to compose myself. But judging by the amused glint in her eyes, the deep red flush creeping up my face, and the fact that Thomas came barreling down the stairs right after me, I was not doing a great job of it.

And then she smirked.

"Oh dear," she hummed, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Galathia. "Did I... interrupt something?"

I wanted to disappear. Right then and there. Just dig a hole in the ground, crawl inside, and never resurface.

"Mom." Thomas shot her a pointed look, his voice low with warning.

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

"I-I should go! Bye now, see you later!" I blurted out in a rush, spinning on my heel and sprinting out the door like my life depended on it.