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“I hear you’ve taken your skills all the way to the top. It’s not always nice to be wrong, but in this case, I’ll take the hit to my pride.”
A laugh punches out of me as my face heats. Shit, I’d hoped he’d forgotten about that.
“How did you hear about the books?” I ask, because even if there is a fan club for ghostwriters, there’s no way Mr. Phillips is a part of it.
I follow his nod to the obvious culprit, and Aiden beams back at me. What did he do? Take out a full-page ad in the local paper?
“Well, thanks,” I say, turning back. “And thank you for being so cool back then.”
“I’m glad it worked out for you,” he says, before waving and heading on his way.
Aiden’s curiosity could fill a stadium. “Spill. What was all that about?”
I sigh. Of all of Sebastian’s lessons, this whole sharing my truth thing is the hardest pill to swallow. Not only because it doesn’t come naturally to me, but because it’s one thing to say “oh, by the way, I have to vacuum once aweek or I get antsy,” and it’s a whole other to admit what I’m about to.
I steel myself. “In my senior year, he caught me writing Morgan’s essays for her. He fought against a suspension for me, and I spent a month in detention with him, where he had me write five thousand words on why I shouldn’t let anyone pass my words as their own.”
Aiden laughs. “Kind of funny you made a living off not listening to him.”
“Yes, thank you for spelling the joke out.”
It’s embarrassing, sure, but Aiden’s light teasing is miles away from the harsh judgment I was expecting. I’ve admitted to a mistake, but it’s okay. What’s more surprising is that I’m proud of myself. I can finally see what Sebastian’s been telling me all along. Not only does perfection not exist, but it’s alienating. Our missteps, the journeys we take as we learn and grow, connect us. Allow us the freedom to be vulnerable with each other.
“How did I never hear about this?”
“I told Mom and Dad that I was taking classes for extra credit. Only Morgan knew.”
“Wow. Any other secrets I should know about?” My heart stills when he looks pointedly at Sebastian. That’s the last thing I’m about to tell him, so I go with something else. “I have a tattoo.”
His eyebrows shoot up to his hair. “Let me guess. Morgan was with you.”
“We went together for our twenty-first birthdays.”
“I’m seeing a pattern here.”
“You have no idea.”
When exactly do secrets become lies?
At what point does self-preservation morph from kind to selfish? I’m genuinely asking, because I’m seriously worried that I’m completely fucking up the most important relationships of my life, and it scares me.
I didn’t come home for this. When I asked Sebastian for his help, I wanted it. Needed it. More than I even knew. And now, I have the chance to prove I’ve learned something.
It’s easier than I feared, cracking the vault open after all this time, letting truths spill out like treats from a piñata.
“I jumped out of a plane that year.”
“When?”
“For my birthday. I bought it as a gift to myself.”
“You never told me.”
“I know. It’s just, I don’t know. I felt a little silly buying myself a birthday present like that. But I’d always wanted to go and no one wanted to go with me, so I just… did it.”
“I thought you were afraid of heights.”
“Yeah, when I was nine and I fell off the top bunk at camp, but I wanted to prove I was over it.”
