Listen for the Lie(66)

Ben looks at me expectantly.

“… change,” I finish.

“It doesn’t sound like you were so bad in high school,” he says. “You were the type of girl who went around punching assholes. I think we would have gotten along.”

“Or I would have punched you.”

He laughs. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, and he’s loose, high. “I was a huge nerd in high school.”

“I want to see you as a teenage nerd. Show me a picture.”

“No,” he says, with little to no conviction.

“Come on. You spend your days obsessing over every detail of my past. You’ve probably seen every picture taken of me in my early twenties.”

He squints. “That’s a really good point, actually.” He sighs as he reaches for his phone. “Fine.”

He swipes for a minute before turning the phone so I can see the screen. I take it from him.

It’s a prom photo. He stands next to a pretty brunette girl in a green dress. His tie matches. His hair is too short and he has a giant pimple on his forehead. It looks like he hit his growth spurt later, because he’s about the same height as his date, who’s wearing flats. Or maybe she was just six feet tall.

“You liar.” I pass the phone back to him.

He looks startled. “What?”

“You absolutely had girls lining up for you. You were cute and you know it.”

“I was a nerd! A bumbling, awkward nerd. I talked about Iron Man a lot.”

“Oh yes, talking about the billion-dollar Marvel franchise that everyone loves must have made you extremely uncool.”

“Hey. It was slightly less cool back then.”

“God, you’re so smug. You had hot prom dates and won fancy student journalism prizes. You solve crimes on your own and you get murder suspects to have sex with you.”

“Paige would be extremely annoyed to hear anyone thinks I solve crimes on my own. And how did you know I won fancy journalism prizes? You researched me?”

“You hired a PI to investigate me, so I don’t think you have room to judge my light googling.”

“I wasn’t judging, I was flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

He laughs, his fingers moving against my calf. I scoot forward a little, and his hand slides up to my thigh.

“What was your most likely thing?” I ask. “You know, in the yearbook? Like how I was ‘Most Likely to Kill Her Best Friend.’”

“You were ‘Most Likely to be a CEO by Thirty.’”

“Thanks, stalker.”

“We didn’t do those. I thought they were just a movie thing, actually. A movie thing and a small-town thing, apparently.”

“What would you have been? Most likely to win a Pulitzer?”

He laughs. “I doubt it. Most likely to obsess over unsolved murders? I was known for it back then too.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“It’s in one of the Reddit threads about your podcast. Some people you went to high school with have weighed in there.”

“Jesus, you should not be looking at any Reddit threads about me or you.”

“Why? Because they call me a crazy murderer but say they’d still fuck me?”

“Yes! That’s exactly why.”

“This isn’t news to me.” I move even closer to him, parting my legs so I can wrap them around him and sit in his lap. His arms circle my waist.

I lean down to kiss him. “As one of the men who would definitely still fuck a crazy murderer, I don’t think you have the right to look so scandalized.”

His lips brush mine as he speaks. “I prefer not to use the word crazy. Not in that context, anyway.”

“It’s so interesting that it’s the word crazy that bothers you and not murderer.”

“I didn’t say that word didn’t bother me too.”

I kiss him, looping my arms around his neck and shifting until I can feel that he’s currently only bothered in the good way.

“Let’s go back to the bedroom.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


LUCY




I wake a second time to a door opening. It’s morning now, light streaming in through the blinds. Ben is on his stomach beside me, still asleep.

“Ben!” It’s a familiar voice from the living room. Paige. “Are you in there? You know I worry that someone murdered you when you don’t answer my texts.”

He stirs, groaning as he rubs a hand across his face. The clock says it’s after ten. We were up late.

He rolls out of bed and pulls his boxers on. As he walks to the door, he holds his hand out. I think that means he wants me to stay put. He opens the door a crack.

“Hey.”

“Hey— Dude, no. I do not want to see you in your underwear.”

“Then don’t barge into my hotel room at the crack of dawn.”

“First of all, it’s practically lunch. Second of all, you gave me a key, so I’m not sure what else you expected me to do with it.”

“I need to shower. I’ll meet you in your room in like an hour.”

“It’s going to take you an hour to shower?”