Sweet Deadly Lies (A Dark Academia Mystery) Watty Winner ✔️

Twelve

The closer I get to Xander's table, the faster my heart pounds.

When I'm finally in front of him, I clear my throat. "Would you like to sit with us? Over there?" And then I want to sink into the floor, because that sounded so incredibly juvenile.

His eyes skim over my table. "No, thanks."

"Oh. Okay."

I'm about to make a quick exit when he stops me. "But you can sit here, if you want."

Pins and needles shoot across my scalp. I throw a look over my shoulder and give Iris a slight nod. She nods back before turning away.

I set down my tray and pull out a chair. "I'm, um. I'm sorry about earlier. In Art Club." Heat swamps my cheeks as I sag into the seat. "I wasn't feeling well."

It's not a lie.

He's quiet for a moment. Swallows the bite in his mouth. And then, "Are you better?"

"I think so. Maybe." I let out a breath. "It's complicated."

"I understand complicated."

I scoot closer to the table and pull the lid off my plate. Steam rises like a cloud before vanishing in the air. Nothing looks appetizing, but I force myself to dive in.

"My dad used to paint," I tell him, as I nibble on a kernel of corn. "He's the one who introduced it to us—although Ava was much better at it than me. He was an amazing teacher."

Xander takes a small bite of mashed potatoes. "Your sister said the same thing."

His comment takes me by surprise. "She told you about our father?"

He nods.

"He could do it all," I continue, pushing corn around with my fork. "Modernism, abstract, expressionism. He was skilled with different paints, too. The only ones I ever used were acrylics. They're more versatile than watercolors and oil. What do you like to do?"

I know I'm talking too fast, but I can't stop myself. If I talk, then there won't be an awkward silence. In the short while I've known Xander, we've had enough of those.

"Sketching mostly. And sometimes photography. I also do gravestone rubbings, but most people don't consider that art."

"If you can frame it and hang it on a wall, it's art. At least, it is to me."

This isn't right. We shouldn't be sitting here having this conversation. Not after what he kept from me.

I set down my fork and press my palms to the table, my muscles suddenly tense. "How well did you know my sister?"

Xander eyes me carefully. "We were friends."

"Friends?" I repeat. "Like, good friends? Because Iris said you were, and that makes you keeping it from me even stranger."

Xander leans back in his chair and grabs a napkin from his lap. He balls it in his fist and tosses it on the table. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"I want to know why you lied to me," I say a little too loudly.

The table next to us turns to stare.

I give them a dirty look. "I'm sorry—were we talking to you? How about minding your own business." When their eyes dart back to their plates, I go on. "You had plenty of time to tell me you knew Ava and you didn't. That makes you a liar."

"I didn't lie, I just didn't mention it," he says slowly. "It's not the same thing."

"It's still shady, don't you think?"