Twisted Lies: A Dark High School Romance (Twisted Pine Academy Book 1) Read online

  Twisted Lies

  Twisted Pine Academy, Book 1

  Kai Juniper

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Twisted Pine 2

  Twisted Lies

  By Kai Juniper

  Copyright © 2019 Kai Juniper

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC

  Cover Design by Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  Chapter One

  "I'm not leaving." I cling to Axl, pressing my head against his chest.

  "You have to." He kisses my head. "If you don't, you'll end up in foster care."

  "Not if I hide." I look up at him. "I'll stay with Jacob. I'll hide out there until I'm 18."

  "My brother's place is barely big enough for him. And what about school? You're not dropping out."

  "It'd only be for a year. I could go back." I tighten my arms around him. "I'll do anything to keep us together."

  "Rumor." Axl gently pulls away and cups my face, his eyes on mine. "I love you. That's not gonna change, no matter how far apart we are."

  "You say that now but what about a month from now? What if you get tired of never seeing me and find someone else?"

  "Who could I find better than you?" He gives me that half-smile of his that made me fall for him on our first date. He never does a full smile. Just a partial one with a slight upturn of his lips. It's sexy, mysterious, and totally Axl.

  "Maybe I should be worrying about YOU," he says, still with that half smile. "Maybe you'll fall for one of those California surfer guys and ditch me."

  "You know I'd never do that. Don't even joke about it."

  He chuckles. "I can't even imagine you with one of those guys with their blond hair and tan leathery skin."

  "I can't imagine myself with ANY of those people. I'm a New Yorker. I don't belong in California. I belong here."

  "But you can't stay here." He runs his hand along my cheek, his smile now gone. "You can do this, Rumor. It's only for a year."

  "A year is too long." I look down, biting my lip and trying not to cry. "I hate this. I hate this so much. This was never supposed to happen."

  He lifts my chin up and our eyes meet. "But it did, and now you just need to get through it."

  I search his face, trying to memorize each detail so I don't forget. His messy dark hair that's always falling in his eyes. His thick black eyebrows. His silver nose ring. The piercing on his lip. He doesn't have tattoos but he's saving up for one. He's getting a snake tat along the side of his neck. He already drew out the design.

  I was supposed to go with him when he got it but now I can't. That—and all our other plans—were destroyed the day my mom died. The day I found out I'd be going to live with my uncle.

  In the past two weeks, my entire life has changed.

  "Hey, fucker, watch where you're going!" Axl yells.

  Looking over I see a man in a suit glance back at Axl. He shakes his head and continues walking.

  "Fucker about knocked me over," Axl says, running his hand through his hair. "Rich fuckin' bastard."

  Axl hates rich people. He lives with his mom who works two jobs and still struggles to keep food on the table. They share a small one bedroom apartment in the Bronx. Axl's mom gets the bedroom so he sleeps on the couch. Or sometimes he'd stay with my mom and me. We had a better couch and better apartment.

  My mom and I had a place in Manhattan. By New York standards, our apartment was huge, with two decent-sized bedrooms and the smaller room she called her office. My mom was an artist so I'm not sure why she needed an office. She had a desk and computer in there but rarely used it.

  Our apartment had a doorman, Frankie, who was like a grandpa to me. My own grandparents died before I was born but I imagine them being like Frankie.

  I'll miss Frankie. And our apartment. The city. It's all I know. It's where I grew up.

  Why did my mom have to die? We had such a good life. It wasn't perfect but it was good.

  "You two need to move along," I hear a deep voice say. I turn and see a cop standing there.

  "I'm saying goodbye to my girlfriend," Axl says in an angry tone that shouldn't be used with a cop. I like that Axl's a rebel but not when we're dealing with cops.

  The cop stands beside Axl, his hands on his hips. "Either go inside the airport or keep moving. You can't block the sidewalk."

  "We're not blocking it," Axl says, raising his voice. "There's plenty of fucking room for people to walk around."

  "Axl, let's go." I grab his hand, trying to pull him towards the door.

  "We'll go when I'm ready," he says, glaring at the cop.

  "If you're not going to move," the cop says, "you'll be charged with—"

  "We're moving," I say, yanking hard on Axl's hand. He's skinny and not that strong so my hard pull makes him stumble toward me.

  "Rumor, what the fuck?" He tries to yank his hand away but I keep hold of it.

  "Hurry up or I'll miss my plane," I say, smiling at the officer as I continue to pull Axl toward the door.

  The officer keeps his eyes on us a moment, then continues down the walkway.

  I let go of Axl as I hurry inside the airport.

  "What the hell was that?" I hear him ask from behind me.

  I whip around. "You really want to start a fight with a cop? So when I come back here I have to visit you in jail?"

  "He wasn't going to arrest me." Axl shoves the hair out of his eyes. "It's not a fucking crime to stand on the sidewalk."

  "Can we just forget about that and go back to saying goodbye?" I grab hold of his black t-shirt and reach up to kiss him.

  He holds my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine.

  "This isn't goodbye," he whispers, resting his forehead on mine.

  "It feels like it is," I whisper back.

  People rush past us as announcements blare from the overhead speakers. Ignoring all that, I focus on Axl, burying my head in his chest, breathing in his earthy scent. Blocking out all the noises around me I listen to the steady murmur of his heart. The heart I fell in love with two years ago, when I was only 15. Back then I wasn't even sure what love was until I met Axl.

  He was my first. First date. First boyfriend. First kiss. First time. My first everything.

  He's my first love, and hopefully my last.

  That was the plan. For us
to be together forever.

  But now we're being torn apart.

  "I love you, Axl." I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears but some have already fallen, dampening his shirt.

  "I love you too." He wraps his long thin arms around me and holds me against his chest.

  "I don't think I can do this," I say, sniffling.

  "You can. You've been through worse."

  He means the day my mom died. She was my whole world. And then she was gone. In an instant, she was gone.

  Axl lets go of me and takes a step back, that slight smile on his face. "See ya later."

  A lump forms in my throat as I look at him. He's my everything. How will I go a whole year without seeing him?

  "I'm not ready," I say, my voice cracking.

  "The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back." He nods toward the ticket check-in line. "Get your ass over there. Go do this shit, then come back and we'll start our lives."

  I give him a weak smile. "You promise?"

  He pulls me toward him and presses his lips to mine. "Bye, babe. I love you."

  He lets me go and walks off, straight out the door to the sidewalk. I'm so shocked by his abrupt exit that I stand there a moment, thinking he'll come back, but he doesn't. I race out the door, getting bumped on both sides as people race past me to the taxi line.

  "Axl!" I yell, but he's gone.

  He was trying to make this easier on me. A quick goodbye instead of dragging it out. Maybe that's better but it doesn't feel like it. I wanted more time. I wasn't ready to tell him goodbye.

  It's not really goodbye. We'll see other again. This is just some time apart. This isn't the end.

  Axl and I promised each other we'd be together forever.

  That promise is the only thing keeping me going.

  The string of hope that'll carry me through the hell that awaits.

  Chapter Two

  When I walk out of the airport bright sunlight hits my eyes, making me squint. It's not very sunny in New York, and on the days that it is, the sun is hidden by all the tall buildings.

  Yanking my backpack over my shoulder, I walk toward what I think might be the place I’m being picked up.

  "Rumor Bennet?" I hear a voice say.

  Shielding my eyes from the sun, I look ahead and see a man walking toward me. He's older, with white hair and really tan skin.

  My uncle sent someone to pick me up? I should've known he'd do that. He's too important to get me himself, or so he thinks. He's such an ass. Actually, I've never met him but sending a stranger to pick me up makes him an ass.

  "I'm Rumor," I say to the old guy. "Are you my driver?"

  "I am." He smiles and outstretches his hand. "Harley Jacobs. Welcome to California."

  "Thanks," I mutter as he takes my backpack.

  "It's right this way." He walks down to a shiny black sedan and pops open the truck. He sets my backpack inside, then hurries over to open my door.

  "I can get it," I tell him.

  "It's part of my job," he says, still with that huge smile. I wonder if smiling like that is also part of the job. Or maybe it's a California thing. If you smiled like that in New York they'd think you're crazy.

  "First time here?" Harley asks as he pulls the car away from the curb.

  "Yeah," I say, looking out at the palm trees that line the road.

  "How long are you staying?"

  I sigh. "A year."

  "You don't sound too excited about it," he says with a laugh.

  "I'm not." I watch as we pass some houses that look like they're made out of concrete. They're all really small and look identical.

  "So how do you know Brock?" he asks, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.

  "I'm his niece." I pause. "How do you know him?"

  "I work for the studio. I've been Brock's driver many times over the years for various events. When he requested I pick you up, he didn't mention you were his niece."

  "I'm more like a distant relative." I take the elastic from my wrist and pull my hair into a ponytail. "I mean, I AM his niece but I've never actually met him so we're basically strangers."

  "So you're Devon's kid?"

  I lean forward, gripping the back of the seat. "You know my dad?"

  "Can't really say I know him. Only met him a few times." He glances back at me. "Sorry to hear about the relapse."

  I shrug. "Doesn't surprise me. He's been an addict my whole life."

  "You see him much?"

  "Nine whole times since I was born," I say with a humorless laugh. "Not exactly father of the year."

  "So you live with your mother?"

  "Not anymore." I stare down at the leather seat, noticing the neatly stitched line along the seams.

  "Is she an addict too?" he asks.

  I swallow. "She's dead."

  "Oh." He pauses. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  Silence follows, although he keeps glancing at me in the mirror like he wants to say something. After a few minutes, he does.

  "I don't mean to pry, but is that why you're here?"

  "Yeah." I run my hand over the stitched seam on the seat beside me. "She died a couple weeks ago. I had nowhere to go. The social worker said I'd end up in foster care if Brock didn't want me. He's the only family I have other than my dad, but he's in rehab."

  "That's tough. My father passed when I was around your age. My mother wasn't well so I went to live with my aunt. That's how I ended up here in LA. Never planned to stay but I've been here fifty years."

  "I'm not staying," I say, adamantly. "As soon as I turn eighteen I'm outta here. I'm going back to New York and moving in with my boyfriend."

  He nods. "Is the boyfriend someone you met at school?"

  "We went to different schools. I met him at a concert. He's a couple years older than me."

  "Is he in college?"

  "No. He's not sure what he's going to do. For now he's working part-time at this place that sells guitars."

  "So he's a musician."

  "Not really. He took a few lessons but didn't like it."

  "What about you? Are you planning to go to college?"

  "I can't. I don't have the money."

  "Brock could certainly afford to send you. Perhaps he'll offer to while you're here."

  I laugh. "I don't think so. He doesn't even know me. And he hates his brother, which means he'll hate me too."

  "Families are complicated," he says with a sigh. "Just can't seem to get along."

  "I got along with my mom." I stare out the window. "We were best friends," I whisper.

  A lump forms in my throat and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing to make the sadness go away.

  The car slows, then comes to a stop. I open my eyes and see us parked on a busy street lined with shops and restaurants.

  "Where are we?" I ask.

  "Santa Monica. You're meeting Brock for lunch."

  "I'm not going to the house?"

  "I'll take you there after lunch. You can leave your things in the car. I'll be waiting here until you're done."

  "You're waiting in the car?"

  He holds up a newspaper. "Gives me time to catch up on my reading."

  "You want me to bring you something? Maybe a sandwich?"

  He chuckles. "No, but thank you for offering. Wait there. I'll get your door."

  I open it myself and get out.

  "Keep doing that and I won't have a job," Harley scolds.

  "Sorry. Just seemed easier to do it myself. I'm not used to people doing stuff for me."

  He smiles. "Right this way."

  He leads me down the sidewalk to a cafe. A young blond woman greets us at the hostess stand. She's gorgeous. She looks more like a model than a hostess.

  "She's here to have lunch with Mr. Halliway," Harley says to the hostess.

  "Of course." She smiles. "Follow me."

  "See you back at the car," Harley says, patting my shoulder. He leans down to my ear. "Don't be nervous. He's not as intimidating a
s he looks."

  The hostess walks off and I hurry to catch up with her. She takes me to a seat at the side of the restaurant by some windows that look out at a flower garden. This state really likes flowers. I passed by tons of them on the way here.

  The hostess stops suddenly. "Mr. Halliway, your guest is here."

  She turns and walks off, leaving me face-to-face with my uncle. Even though I've never met him, I've seen him on TV. I didn't actually watch the shows he was in but I'd see him when I was flipping through the channels.

  He looks different in person. His hair is darker and he's really tall. I always thought actors were short but maybe it just looks that way on TV. Or maybe Brock is the exception. He's got to be at least 6'2, maybe taller.

  "Rumor," he says, holding his hand out. "Welcome to California."

  "Thanks." I quickly shake his hand, then sit down at the small round table.

  I'm suddenly really nervous. Is it because of Harley's comment about being intimidated by Brock? Why would I be intimidated? Because he's famous? I don't care about fame. I've seen famous people in New York and wasn't intimidated by them. My dad's an actor and he doesn't intimidate me. He's not famous, like his brother, but still.

  Brock sits down across from me, his long legs bumping me under the table.

  "Sorry about that." He scoots back. "These tables are too small."

  "You're really tall," I blurt out.

  He chuckles. "I am, especially for an actor."

  "Why are you tall but my dad isn't?"

  He clears his throat. "I'd rather not talk about Devon."

  "Why? He's my dad. I'm not allowed to talk about him?"

  "We can talk about him later. Not now."

  "Why not now?"

  "I don't want to get into it." He taps on the menu in front of me. "Find something to order. I only have an hour before I need to be back at the studio."