The Lie: Rebels of Ridgecrest High (Book 2)
The Lie: Chapter 1

I hate my mom, and there is nothing my dad can say that will ever change my mind. Even though I’m twelve, the fact that I’m moving away makes me want to throw a temper tantrum that would make a toddler proud.

“Honestly, James, the clothes you’ve given her make her look like a boy. Does she even own any dresses?” Mom lets out a huff. “Don’t bother. I will just have to get her something in New York. My daughter won’t be seen dead in any of these Walmart clothes.”

I don’t care what I wear. I like to be comfortable, but I don’t dress like a boy. Maybe if Mom were home more, or even took me shopping, she might have a say in what I wear. But Dad took me to pick out my own clothes. I do have a dress. She’s just never around to see me, so she doesn’t know any better.

“I wanna say goodbye one more time,” I whisper to Dad as I eye Mom going through my closet, throwing clothing and hangers onto my bed. Is it still my bed? If I don’t live here anymore? I don’t want to think about it. I need to see them. I need one last goodbye.

He looks down at his watch and nods. “Be back at two. Not a minute later.”

I glance back at my mom, but she hasn’t heard me, and I wouldn’t care if she did. I’m leaving with her at two. So, she doesn’t get a say in where I go with the last few hours of my life here. I have a plan, something that I’d been hoping to do for a long time. Only, Mom sped up the plans by deciding to take me away. I know what I want before I leave today.

My first kiss.

Running to my bike, I jump on and ride out to the front of my house. I look back at the blue front door and let out a deep breath. Today will be the last day I see that door. My emotions are going haywire, and I don’t want to ruin these special last moments with the boys by crying.

Jace’s house draws my attention. It looks just like mine, but his front door is green. He’s been my best friend since I was born. Choosing Jace for my first kiss would make sense to everyone who knows us…but that’s only looking from the outside. Jace won’t be my first kiss. I’ve known that for a while now.

I look down the street to the right—Hunter. With his cheeky smile and floppy curly hair. He always makes me laugh. Makes me feel so special. It would make sense to pick him as my first kiss, right? Wrong.

They’ll both kiss me back without question. I know that in my heart. And although I want that—I would hate to be rejected—I know it has to be this way. All three or none at all. And the only wild card I have is…

Roman.

I peddle the wheels of my bike as fast as I can to his trailer, my heart pounding and my stomach tied in knots. What if he doesn’t want to kiss me? What if their pact is so strong Roman won’t break it and be my first kiss?

The nerves have me almost backing out of my plan. But the fact I don’t want it to be anyone else keeps me peddling.

I love all my best friends. But in so many different ways. I usually know what Jace is thinking. How Hunter will react to most things. But Roman? He always leaves me guessing. He makes my chest ache when he’s sad and explode when he smiles at me.

My heart always beats a little bit faster for Roman’s smiles. Hunter gives me butterflies when he touches me, and Jace makes me feel safe and cared for when he snuggles me. But Roman…he’s my wild card. I never know what I’m gonna get with him. I think that’s what draws me to him most. The unpredictability.

If he says no to my first kiss, I won’t go to the others. It only counts if they’re all my first kiss. And I want my real first kiss to be with Roman. I want him to feel the same thing I do in my chest. I want his heart to explode with happiness the way I know it will for me.

I swallow before knocking on his door. Hearing stomping feet, I take a step back. I lace my fingers in front of me, hoping it’s going to be Roman and not his dad. His dad scares me; he always smells bad and smokes inside the trailer.

The trailer is always gross and dirty, but I never say anything or let my gaze linger longer than needed when I’m in there. Not that I’m in there much. Roman hates us coming to his trailer. My dad doesn’t like me coming here either. He doesn’t like Mr. Valentine.

The door flies open and makes a loud bang as it hits the side of the trailer. I jump at the sound, sucking in a gasp at the sight of Roman’s dad. The smell hits me just as fast as he scratches his chest. The stained wifebeater moves under his dirty nails, and I hold my breath.

He looks me up and down. “You’re that little girly Roman hangs around. Mia, right?” He lets out a deep, chesty cough. After making a sound in his throat, he spits just near my feet, and I start to shake. Not much scares me, but he always makes something in the pit of my stomach scream at me to run.

“Mila,” I correct him, but my voice is almost a whisper.

“Ah, Mila. Pretty name for a pretty girly.”

Run! Run!

“Is Roman here?” I ask, my feet already backing up, and I watch as he catches the movement and he cocks his head.

His mouth grows into something I assume would be a smile on a normal person, but on him, it looks evil. “The kid’s not here. He said he was taking off to the lake.”

I nodded. Roman’s at the lake. That makes sense. Or did it?

“Are you sure?”

He pulls a cigarette from his pack with his teeth and proceeds to jam the packet back in his shorts pocket. His lighter clicks a few times before the flame catches. He lights the end, and it glows brightly as he inhales. Smoke comes from his nostrils like he’s an angry dragon.

“Yeah, he said something about you and left.” His eyes rake over me again, and I feel a shiver course through my body. Run!

“You can wait here for him; can come sit inside and wait with me.” He steps to the side and makes a gesture for me to come in. The hair on the back of my neck pricks in a warning.

I don’t want to; that’s the last place I want to be. The way he looks at me has my gut screaming. Run!

“No, thank you.” I’m polite, at least, before I jump on my bike and ride as fast as I can away from there.

The distance between Mr. Valentine and myself allows me to finally let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in. I can’t leave here; I can’t leave Roman with that man. He’s not a good person.

I ride my bike toward the lake. It’s kind of in the middle of us all, that’s why we meet there so much. Plus, it’s fun to swim there on a hot day. Is he swimming? Alone? That’s a rule we have; we can’t swim there alone. Someone always needs to be there in case one of us gets into trouble. The other would call for help.

My legs are starting to burn from pedaling so much, but I need to get to him fast. When I reach the grass, I pedal until I see him, sitting on the edge of the lake, throwing rocks into the deep water.

I drop my bike about five feet behind him and he turns, his arm midair, about to throw another rock into the water. As he squints up at me through the sun’s bright rays, I can tell his cheeks are wet. He’s been crying.

Roman never cries. I’ve only seen him cry once—when his mom died—and then never again. But here he is, crying. I move swiftly to him, my knees dropping to the warm grass beside him as I take his hands in mine.

“Roman,” I let out as a breath. “Oh, Roman.” My eyes prick with tears of my own.

He pulls a hand away to swipe at the tears. His dirty-blond hair is falling in his eyes, and I reach up and brush it back.

“You need a haircut.” I smile at him, and he shakes his head. I brush it back again so I can see his whole face.

“No, I don’t want one.”

I tilt my head and give him a small smirk. “Why not?”

He always has long hair, and it’s forever getting in his eyes and hiding his beautiful face. I want everyone to see Roman and how he’s just a boy. A person. Human. Someone worthy of love.

I love him…but I’m going away. I need someone to love him while I’m gone.

“Because if I do, you won’t push it away. I like that…I like that you want to.”

My heart beats faster in my chest. I want to cry at what I’m losing here; I want my mom to know she isn’t only breaking my heart. She’s also breaking the heart of this sweet, beautiful boy with the sad blue eyes and dirty-blond hair.

He needs someone to push his hair out of his eyes for him. I don’t think he would let the guys do it. It wouldn’t be the same. It has to be me. I want it to only be me.

“I came looking for you. I want to ask you a question.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I steady myself to ask this important question.

He nods, then looks around us. For what, I don’t know.

“Would you, Roman Valentine, be my first kiss?”

His blue eyes snap back to mine, wide and full of surprise. His mouth opens slightly as he licks his lips. I smile and nod, trying to hold myself together while waiting for his answer.

“You want me to kiss you…first?”

I giggle and shove him gently in the shoulder, my nerves getting the better of me. “Of course I do, Roman. I want you to be my first kiss.”

Roman looks down at my lips then back into my eyes. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather Jace or Hunter be your first?”

I shake my head. “You don’t want to kiss me?” My belly twists in knots as I wait for his response.

He shakes his head, and I can feel his fingers tremble where our hands still touch. “No, I mean, yes. I do want to kiss you. I want my first and my last kiss to be with you, Mila.”

“I want that too.”

I lean into him and close my eyes. I feel his fingers brush over my face. I hold still, confused at what he’s doing. He traces around my forehead and down my cheek, and I smile at the way he’s tracing my face. It’s not what I expected. I guess I didn’t know what to expect, but this isn’t it.

I’m just about to open my eyes when I feel his warm, callous palm cup my cheek, and I lean a little into it. His breath fans out over my lips. I wait for what feels like a lifetime for Roman’s lips to touch mine. The first touch is soft and tender. My hand reaches out and grabs his tee to stop myself from falling over. I need something to keep me grounded.

I’m kissing Roman Valentine.

He presses his mouth harder to mine, and we stay like that as fireworks go off in my head, my heart, and my tummy. It’s the best feeling, and I don’t want to pull away.

But the wind tumbles my hair and we pull back to look at each other. My heart is racing in my chest as I touch my lips, just as Roman does the same. The smile he gives me lets me know he feels the same thing inside him as I do right now.

“Mila?” my dad’s muffled voice calls out to me.

I turn to my bike, then back to Roman, but Dad isn’t there. I look at the ground and see daisies scattered on his mother’s grave. How am I at the cemetery? Where did the lake go? I blink and shake my head; I see Roman that first day of first grade. Standing there, looking at me with those big sad eyes, obviously scared and alone. My heart starts to race.

“Roman? What’s happening?”

“Mila? Sweetheart, can you hear me? Come back to me, baby girl.”

Dad? I look around and everything is dark. So dark…I can’t replace Roman. My heart races even faster. Where is he? Where’s Roman? He would never leave me.

“Roman?” I call out. My head pounds and my stomach rolls. And not in a good way.

“Mila?” Dad calls out again, and I hear a rhythmic beep. What is that? It starts to speed up, and I grow more anxious at the sound. That’s not my alarm clock. The smell isn’t of daisies and fresh grass. It’s sterile, like a hospital. My hand reaches out, and someone takes it. I can feel their touch. Roman?

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. Come back to me.”

“Dad?” I hear my voice as a strangled whisper, my throat raw and dry.

Then, everything comes rushing back. Roman. My bike. The bad guys from the fight. Their car.

The kiss.

My eyes open, and the light is blinding. With a moan, I close them again and try to stop my stomach from revolting.

“Mila?”

Taking a deep breath, I blink a few times. I look around the cold, white room. There’s a lady standing beside me, my wrist in her hand as she looks down at me, smiling.

“Mila? How do you feel?” she asks. I don’t know who she is.

I turn to see Dad. He blinks back tears, and it makes my throat close. Kate is there beside him, and she smiles and reaches out to my hand that’s gripped tightly in Dad’s.

“Mila, hi, sweetheart. Do you need water?” She looks over to the nurse, but I shake my head and groan. It feels like my brain isn’t attached and is just bouncing off the inside of my skull.

“What do you need?” Dad asks.

“Roman.”

I need Roman.