Conclusion: I required lying lessons.
Abram leaned to the side to peer around my sister’s friend, his eyelids still droopy, his gaze still irritated and distrustful. “You don’t have your phone?”
One-word answers. One-word answers. One-word answers.
“Nope,” I said, both proud and disgusted with myself for the lie. Needing a distraction, I picked through the fruit bowl in the center of the island, hunting for the perfect apple.
In my peripheral vision, I watched as Abram stepped away from the door, walked around Gabby, and stopped four feet from me just as I took a bite from the apple. Honeycrisp. I chewed and he studied my face. Meeting his inspection directly, I concentrated on the taste of the apple and hoped I was making a Lisa-face.
Lifting his chin toward the Sephora bag, he asked, “You had money for makeup but not for food?”
“Priorities, Abram,” Gabby spoke for me.
He ignored her. “You don’t mind if I search you for it?”
Before I could catch it, I felt my eyes squint and my lips curve into an unfriendly sneer. Like hell he was putting his hands on me. I didn’t care who he was, whether or not he was Leo’s best friend, or whether my parents trusted him, I didn’t like being touched by anyone.
Abram’s glare sharpened, as though my reaction surprised him, or he found it confusing.
But Gabby laughed, taking the stool next to mine. “Yeah, sure. Go for it, handsome. Where is she going to hide a cell phone in that outfit? But, okay. I’m sure you’ll both probably enjoy it, so go ahead.”
I glanced down at myself, at my boobs on display in the tank top and black lace bra, my bare stomach, and the second skin of Lisa’s leather pants. Once again, Gabby made a good point. There was nowhere to hide anything in these clothes, the pockets were sewn shut for Bohr’s sake.
Returning my attention to Abram, it was my turn to be surprised. An expression of mild repugnance passed over his features as he looked me over, like the thought of giving “Lisa” a pat down was just as distasteful to him as it was to me.
Well, okay then. Maybe nineteen-year-old, olive-skinned, heavily makeupped, athletic with big boobs, long black hair, and brown eyes wasn’t his type.
Crossing his arms, Abram leveled me with a severe stare. “As soon as your stuff arrives, you give me the phone.”
“Fine.” I shrugged and took another bite of the apple while Gabby selected a piece of pizza from the box.
My calm capitulation seemed to increase his irritation. “No drinking. No drugs. No parties. No sneaking out. No one comes over until your parents get home in two weeks, or Dr. Steward arrives, whichever comes first. And no leaving the house without me. Anywhere you go, I go.”
I stared at him evenly, because—other than having him escort me out of the house—he was basically reading my Christmas list. Total seclusion and quiet for the next week? Where did I sign up?
But staring evenly with no reaction must’ve been the wrong thing to do, because the force of his eye-squint escalated, his gaze flickering over me with suspicion. “Did you hear me?”
“Yep,” I said, wishing I’d thought ahead and brought books to read. I’d already read all the ones here. Maybe I can go to the library? Wait, no. Shoot! No card. Bookstore?
Abram continued to examine me, his frown intensifying, his suspicion now edged with confusion. “Are you . . . feeling okay?”
I sensed Gabby’s restlessness before she stood from her stool and stepped in front of me again. “Okay, Dad. What are you, like only three or four years older than us?” She huffed, rolled her eyes. “Whatever. We got it. No fun.”
Successfully disguising my disapproval at the petulance in her tone and the instinct to distance myself from her puerile response, I continued to give him my very best blank-face. To be clear, I’m not against sass or sarcasm. Both definitely have their place. But Gabby’s dramatics felt immature and superfluous.
Given the situation, the fact that Lisa was currently in jail and had been lying about being with Tyler for months, this Abram guy’s rules made complete sense. If I’d been left in charge, I would have set similar limitations.
“We’ll just be upstairs.” She pulled me from the stool, and I had to consciously force myself to allow Gabby to lead me toward the back stairs. “And just so we’re clear, we’ll be doing absolutely nothing,” Gabby spat, the venom in her voice—again—striking me as childish.
“No.” Abram shook his head, moving quickly to block our path. “No, Gabby. You’re not staying.”
I was relieved to see the earlier suspicion and confusion pointed at me had faded, replaced with a hard look for Lisa’s friend.
“What?” she screeched, her mouth falling open. “What the hell, Abram? You’re cute, but you’re not that cute. Stop being such an asshole.”
Abram rubbed his face tiredly, his jaw ticking again, his eyes now almost black. “Do you think I want to spend the next few weeks babysitting Lisa? No. I’m doing this as a favor to Leo.” He said this last part to me, his animosity a palpable thing. “So, if you could just, you know, not do anything stupid or crazy for the next two weeks, that would be really great.”
“Wanting to talk to her best friend is neither stupid or crazy.” Gabby inched us closer to the back stairs.
He moved to counter our progress, a big wall of lean muscle and unyielding determination. “Gabby, time for you to go.”
“Lisa isn’t a prisoner!”
I tried not to smirk at the irony of Gabby’s statement.
“Gabby,” he said, the single word a warning.
“This is such bullshit!” she continued to protest, but it was evident Abram wasn’t going to bend.
Turning my arm, I encircled Gabby’s wrist with my fingers and tugged her lightly, encouraging her to face me. “You should go. I’ll be fine.”
Her moss-green eyes moved between mine, hot with anger, but also tempered with worry. She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, like a grunt, and pulled me into a hug.
I stiffened in her embrace, baffled by the action and feeling a familiar reflexive suffocation, but then she whispered, “The backpack is under the stool I was sitting on. Don’t let him see it or we’re all dead.”
Gabby released me and leaned away to administer one of her meaningful looks. This one I read perfectly.
Nodding once, she turned back to Abram, looked him over, and promptly walked to the kitchen exit. “You’re still hot, Abram, even if you are an uptight asshole.”
“I’ll walk her out, you stay here.” He exhaled a harassed-sounding breath, turned, and followed Gabby from the kitchen.
I watched them go. As soon as they were out of sight, I dashed to my backpack, grabbed it, and . . . hesitated. Would I have enough time to run up to my room, deposit it within, and be back in the kitchen before Abram returned?
Probably not.
Which meant I needed to hide it before he returned. There were many, many options as the kitchen was expansive. Did I hide it in the pantry? Or beneath the double oven? Or above the fridge? The unmistakable sound of the front door shutting made my decision for me. The pantry was closest, so that would be its home for the time being.
Rushing, I shoved the bag behind baking supplies on the bottom shelf. Unless Abraham—Abram? Abraham? Damn. Which one was it?—was secretly a pastry chef, I felt like it was the safest place.
“Lisa?”
He’d returned.
Panicking, I reached blindly for a bag of something on the snack shelf and poked my head out of the walk-in pantry.
Following Gabby’s advice, I said, “What?”
The guy’s gaze found me, his slashing dark eyebrows pulled low, giving him an air of being thoroughly . . . I’m going to go with the word irked again. “What are you doing?”
“Getting—” I held out the bag of whatever I’d grabbed in front of me, reading the package “—prunes.”
Ah jeez. Prunes. Why’d it have to be prunes?