started with a lie ➳ raura revised

Chapter Twenty

It's warm.

For chilly mornings of spring, it sure is hot. But it's a nice kind of hot. Not humid or burning hot, but cool hot. I feel warmth and comfortable. I curl my body into a smaller ball and enjoy this strange once-in-a-lifetime sensation. I flip over to my right side to get to the good side of the pillow. My hand brushes against a cold solid.

Did I hit the nightstand?

I reach for my phone. Why hasn't my alarm woken me up yet? Where is Mom? All I get in return is something hard. It's smooth. When was my table so smooth? I slap my hand around for some sort of recognition of my nightstand while my eyes remain closed.

"Stop it."

Who's that? I open my eyes slowly. Did my nightstand just talk to me? I need some more sleep before I think my pillow's talking to me. But I should find my phone to see what time it is. I don't want to be late for school.

"Can you please stop?"

There it is again. I must be in the half-dream-half-awake state. Or drunk. But I don't recall drinking anything last night so I go with the other choice. I ignore my nightstand's complaints and spread my fingers over, knowing my phone's here somewhere. If I open my eyes, it'll ruin my chance of sleep again.

"Okay, this is just absurd, Miss Laura. Please stop."

Miss Laura? What? Is my nightstand taking over Ross's voice or.... My eyes snap open and right into Ross's forearm—his muscular forearm. And then my eyes travel to his tired face...and down to his naked torso. I scream. Ross jolts up, covering his ears. "Will you stop that noise, please?"

I jolt up too and yell, "What are you doing here?" My eyes travel to his abs on my own. I blush. "And why aren't you wearing a shirt?" I've never seen him so naked and exposed before. I look away. "Put on a shirt!"

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my wrist. I scream again. It's Zac, his eyes half-open and his hair messy as can be. "Why are you screaming so early in the morning?" he mumbles before falling back onto his pillow. His torso is naked as well. My eyes linger on his hard eight-pack before looking at the quilt.

"Why is everyone naked?" I yell. And since when did businessmen work out? Did they even have time? Why do they all have abs? It must be because they're billionaires. "Can you all put on a shirt?"

I hear Zac slowly snoring back into his slumber and Ross just staring at me with blank eyes. What the hell happened? The sunlight is shining through the windows. Why am I in my mother's room? And then I remember last night. Wait, but why are there—

Ding-dong!

Who would be at the door? Mom's in the hospital and our family doesn't really visit. They usually just send a handful of cash with a card reading 'Happy Birthday!' and that's it. Mailmen usually just leave the mail in the mailbox since we almost never order packages.

"Get the door," I tell Ross.

"Me?" he says, pointing to himself like I accused him of great crime.

"No," I say, "I'm talking to the freaking lamp."

Ross looks over to the lamp on the nightstand next to him. It's a floral patterned lamp—one of Mom's favorites. He turns his gaze back to me, his eyebrow arched. "Why would you talk to a lamp? That's simply—"

"I'm being sarcastic, genius!"

His eyebrows knit even more. "Oh," he says. He crosses his arms. "I knew that." His muscles flex and I have to pry my own eyes away before he catches me staring. "Why should I get the door anyways? It's your house. Why don't you go open it?"