The Lies That Define Us Part 1

THE LIES THAT DEFINE US.

Micalea Smeltzer.

Ariella Geller is on the run from some very bad people and Liam Wade doesn't know what he's running from.

Freedom has been an elusive dream for Ari, but when her chance for escape comes, she takes it. She finds herself in California and forced to accept help from strangers in order to stay off the streets and avoid being found by those she ran from.

Liam Wade is sick of living in the shadow of his famous father. All he wants is to make a name for himself as a professional surfer, but it's impossible when the media focuses on every other aspect of his life. All he wants is respect, a chance to prove himself, but when it never comes he finds himself running and hiding from the ones who love him the most.

When their paths collide Ari and Liam are forced to confront their demons, and in the process they just might find a reason to stop running.

Ari.

I laid my head against the cool gla.s.s of the bus window and watched the rain slick against it. The water beaded against the gla.s.s and then slid down in little rivulets that I traced with my finger.

I wouldn't miss the rain.

I wouldn't miss anything about Oregon.

That place wasn't my home. Never had been, and never would be.

With a jolt, the bus roared to life, startling me, but I relaxed a moment later when we pulled out of the station.

Freedom was so close to being mine.

I watched the people on the street as the bus pulled away. I was searching for buzzed brown hair and eerie black eyes, but he wasn't amongst them.

He didn't know I'd left yet.

And hopefully, by the time he did, I'd be long gone.

I adjusted my hoodie so my face was hidden from the other people on the bus and wiggled around, settling myself in for the long ride to California.

Unlike the other people on the bus, I didn't have a cellphone to keep me company. Cellphones were traceable so I'd ditched mine. I couldn't risk him finding me, because if he had I was certain he'd kill me. He would've eventually killed me if I stayed, too. My only option had been to take the risk of running away. I would have rather died on my terms than his, but if everything went according to plan, I'd be free and he'd never find me.

He called me Scarlett, but Scarlett didn't exist.

Scarlett was a lie.

My name was Ariella, and I was reclaiming my stolen life.

Ari.

I watched the sand sift through my fingers.

Some of the tiny granules clung to my hand, and I brushed them away.

I hadn't seen the ocean in years, and I reveled in the sound of the waves crashing against the sh.o.r.e. I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged my arms around my legs.

I'd made it to California unscathed, but I didn't have anything but the clothes on my back.

No money.

No food.

No place to stay.

No ID.

I was so relieved to have escaped that I couldn't bring myself to care if I was essentially homeless. I felt like a fugitive, only it wasn't the authorities I was running from.

It was someone much, much worse.

I knew I needed to leave the beach and try to find somewhere to stay for the night, but I couldn't bring myself to leave.

My dark hair whipped around my shoulders from the wind blowing off the water. I pushed it away from my face and tilted my head up, inhaling the salty crisp air. I so rarely had the opportunity to smell fresh air. It was something so simple that most people took for granted.

There were a lot of things that I used to take for granted.

"Hey."

I jumped at the sound of the female voice beside me. I'd been so lost in my thoughts I hadn't heard her approach.

Her long dirty-blond hair whipped around her shoulders, and she had bright, clear green eyes. A few freckles were sprinkled across her nose, and her skin was bronzed from the sun.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern ringing clear in her voice. "I'm not trying to sound nosy, but you've been here for hours, and you haven't moved."

"I'm fine." I tried to smile rea.s.suringly while also moving the slightest bit away.

Trust no one, I reminded myself.

But at the same time, I also realized that the chances of the woman working for him were slim. More than likely she was an innocent bystander that couldn't understand my weirdness.

"If you need anything, I'll be over there." She pointed to an aqua-colored towel. "I'm Talia, by the way."

I nodded, but didn't give her my name. She smiled like she hadn't expected me to.

"That's my boyfriend Ollie." She pointed at a tall guy with deeply-tanned skin and floppy, blond hair that curled nearly to his shoulders. He stood by the water's edge speaking to a guy with dreads. "If you can't find me you can go to him."

I nodded once.

I wouldn't need either of them.

She seemed to sense that and moved on with a little half-wave.

I was sure I'd come across as rude to the stranger, but it was a natural reaction for me.

I'd spent so long surrounded by the worst of the worst that I couldn't recognize genuine people when I saw them.

Everyone was evil in my eyes.

I began to draw in the sand with the tip of my finger. I started simple, drawing the side profile of a guy a few feet away. I loved drawing; it was one of the few things in life I'd been allowed that actually brought me joy.

I wished I had a sketchpad and some pencils, but right at that moment that was pretty low on the priority list.

My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours, but I was used to going unfed.

I stood and dusted the sand from my jeans and shoved my closed fists into the pockets of my ratty black hoodie.

No wonder the woman named Talia had wanted to know if I was okay. Not only had my behavior been odd, but I'd been sitting on a beach in Southern California in jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie.

So much for blending in.

I trudged through the sand back toward the road with my head bowed.

The road was busy, but I ignored the cars zipping past and kept walking. I didn't know where I was going, but I figured I eventually had to come to something. I was tired from traveling all day, though, and my steps were sluggish.

A part of me feared that he had drugged me, but I'd been gone too long for drugs to just be taking effect. It was simply exhaustion.

I scuffed the toe of my sneaker against the ground, doing this awkward skip-jump thing as I walked in an effort to keep from keeling over asleep.

A car horn honked, and I jumped at the sound, darting to my right toward the guardrail. A second later, a Volkswagen van pulled off the road in front of me, and the woman from the beach hopped out.

I stopped walking and waited for her to come forward. My fight or flight senses were kicking in, but I remained rooted to the spot.

"Do you need a place to stay?" she asked softly, approaching me cautiously like I was a frightened and beaten puppy.

I didn't answer.

"Please, let us help you. We're not asking for anything in return, but you can't sleep on the streets. The police are really strict in the area, and not to sound like a creep, but you're really pretty, and there are a lot of men that would try to do you harm." Her green eyes were earnest, and for some reason I felt that I could trust her.

After only another second of thought, I nodded my head once.

She broke out into a large smile and nodded back toward the camper van. I climbed inside, and the guy in the driver's seat smiled back at me. His smile was lopsided, but kind, and his long hair fell into his eyes.

My heart thundered like a freight train. I could have been making a very bad decision by getting in a car with two strangers, but at that point I had nothing to lose.

"What's your name?" Talia asked once she was seated up front.

"Ariella." My voice cracked from dryness and nerves. I hadn't spoken my real name in years, let alone heard it. "I prefer Ari, though."

"Ari," Talia repeated. "That's a pretty name."

"Thanks," I mumbled, glancing out the window and letting my hair fall forward to shield my face.

"Ollie and I don't have much room at our place, but sleeping on a couch is better than the streets, right?" she asked with an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

I nodded. "H-How'd you know?" I asked softly.

She twisted in the seat so she could see me fully. "Ollie and I..." Her lips twisted with thought. "We didn't always have it so nice, so we like to extend kindness to those less fortunate than us. A place to sleep, some food, clothes," she rattled. "We know what it's like to need some help getting back on your feet."

I inhaled a shaky breath and forced a small smile. "Thank you."

I really was touched by their kindness.

Traffic was heavy, so it took us a while to get to their house. Calling it a house was a bit of a lie, though. It was small, only one bedroom and one bath, with the tiniest kitchen I'd ever seen. But it had a roof and a couch for me to sleep on, so I wasn't complaining.

"If you'd like to shower you can." Talia pointed to the door that led to the bathroom. "You can use my things-I don't mind-and I'll lay out some pajamas for you."

"Thank you." I glanced around me at the eclectic decorations.

Despite the small size, their home was cozy. Several mismatched rugs lay scattered on the floor, creating an odd sort of carpet. The walls were all painted different colors-lime-green, turquoise, hot-pink, and orange. The couch was white with rolled arms, and patterned pillows were scattered across it. In front of the couch was an old coffee table made from worn wood. There was a large TV-the nicest item in the room-and some sort of gaming console.

Talia disappeared into the bedroom to grab some clothes, I presumed, and Ollie stood in front of the open refrigerator.

"You hungry?" he asked me.

I stood, wringing my hands together, and said nothing. They'd already done me such kindness by giving me a place to stay and clothes; I didn't want to eat their food too.

"I'm thinking scrambled eggs with Cheetos sprinkled on top," he mused. He grabbed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator and laid them on the counter. He glanced at me as he rifled through a cabinet for a frying pan. "I know you must be hungry. No need to be shy."

I crossed my arms over my chest nervously. "Anything you can offer me would be nice."

He set the frying pan on the stove and braced his hands on the counter. He turned his head to the side, narrowing his brown eyes on me.

"You seem awfully jumpy for a homeless person."

"Ollie," Talia scolded, appearing in the bedroom doorway with a few items of clothing clutched to her chest.

"What?" Ollie said innocently and swept a hand in my direction. "Don't you agree? Most people we help aren't so scared. They've lived on the streets for a while and they're hardened. But not you." He stared squarely at me. "What are you? Some sort of runaway?"

I stiffened at this. "I'm eighteen. I don't think that makes me a runaway."

He shrugged. "We're all running from something."