Perfect Lie by Teresa Mummert

was one hell of a look, Kettle.”
    I relaxed back in my seat and drank a sip from my cup as Trish made her way back to the table.
    “I just had the best idea.” She clapped her hands together as she slid into her seat. “What if we hook you up with Adam? He’s cute.”
    “I think I’d rather stay home and read.”
    “No one would rather read than have fun.”
    “Reading
is
fun,” I said defensively, but Trish just giggled. “Didn’t you already sleep with Adam?”
    Trish’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. Abel cleared his throat as his gaze danced between the two of us.
    “I have some work to do, but I can pick you up around eight,” Abel said, and Trish agreed with her pouty, overly pink lip pulled between her teeth.
    “Where do you work?” I asked.
    “Not a job, just work to do.”
    “Mysterious,” Trish said with a smirk.
    “More like suspicious,” I mumbled into my cup.

Chapter Eight
    Many Talents
    The day dragged on painfully slow after Abel dropped us off at home. I took a long bubble bath and began a new book, but the hours crawled by. I don’t know why I wished time away. It wasn’t like tomorrow ever held something exciting and new. I wasn’t working toward anything. I had college, but I had no clear direction and had decided to be undeclared for my freshman year.
    I ate leftover spaghetti for lunch and saved some because I knew I’d be having it for dinner as well, since I’d be alone tonight. My phone buzzed beside me as I was sprawled across my bed, four chapters deep into my romance novel. I lifted it to find a text message from an unknown number.
    How’s the book?
    I glanced around the room and back to my phone, thinking before typing a reply.
    Who is this?
    My phone vibrated again a few seconds later.
    Am I that forgettable, Kettle?
    I huffed and dropped my Kindle beside me on the bed.
    Stalker.
    The phone was quiet for a minute before another text rang through.
    Those pajamas are hideous.
    I flipped over and yelled as I saw Abel in the doorway of my room. I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him, but he just stood there, letting it bounce off his chest.
    “Really? A pillow is your defense against a stalker?”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I have a hot date tonight. If I’m lucky she might put out.”
    I rolled my eyes as I flipped back onto my stomach and grabbed my Kindle. “You don’t need luck for that, but you may need a dose of penicillin.”
    Abel laughed and grabbed my pillow, walking it across the room and tossing it to the head of my bed.
    “Where’s Trish?” I asked, not bothering to look up from my Kindle.
    “Changing her clothes.”
    “And how did you get my number?”
    “Magic. It’s one of my many talents—much like your ability to turn men gay.”
    “Is your first talent being a criminal?”
    “That hurts. That really hurts, Kettle. You know, if you really want to be like Trish, you need to ditch the books and stop judging people.”
    “You’re kidding, right?”
    “I never joke about putting down a book,” he said.
    I was wrong. Abel’s first talent was being sarcastic, and it was infuriating.
    “So the perfect people have feelings too? I never would have guessed.” I tossed my Kindle and pushed up from the bed. Abel towered over me in a charcoal button‐down shirt and dark‐wash jeans. His hair was messy as usual, and his appearance stopped me in my tracks. He looked hot as hell.
    “Oh, no. Not feelings. Just a low tolerance for hypocrites, Kettle.”
    “I’m not a hypocrite, and stop calling me ‘Kettle,’ you asshat.” I glared up at him, but his face was relaxed, and I swear I saw a smile tugging on his lips. He enjoyed getting under my skin.
    He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch. “This has been fun, but I have a date. Don’t give yourself a paper cut, Kettle.” He turned to leave, and I groaned with frustration.
    “It’s a Kindle, you idiot. There is no paper.”
    He pulled the door closed behind him, and I