Free Forgiving Lies by Molly McAdams

to see the muscles that fill it out perfectly. And you do not want to spend hours studying his tattoo sleeves. Not. At. All.
    Candice couldn’t have been more obvious when she suggested we take my Jeep or that Logan ride in front with me. But there was no point in arguing. Candice always got her way. Obviously.
    “So, let’s take the guys to the Oasis, Rach. That way they can see the lake.”
    Thank God I hadn’t started driving yet, because I slammed on the brake even though I was still in park. “No!” Everyone in the car jerked back. “I mean, um . . . it’s just always so crowded there. And on a summer night, it’s gonna be crazy.” Anything that reminded me of Blake, I definitely wanted to avoid.
    “Oh . . . kay. Well then.” Candice thought for a second before saying warily, “Are you going to freak out if I suggest Hula Hut?”
    “No, I’m not. And I—I didn’t freak out.”
    “Whatever, Rachel. Just drive.”
    I glanced in the rearview mirror to see her give me a Cool it look before turning to whisper in Mason’s ear.
    “Hey, are you gonna be okay to drive?” Logan asked softly in my ear. “You look sick all of a sudden.”
    “Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth, and shot him a glare as I backed out of my space.
    “I didn’t— Jesus,” he huffed, and sat back. “Forget it.”
    I took a shaky breath in and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. I knew I was being rude. But it was like I couldn’t stop. “So why’d you tell me your name is Kash if it’s Logan? Are you a part of some motorcycle gang or something and you got stuck with the shitty nickname? Or do you just sing like Johnny Cash?” He definitely had a voice deep and smooth enough for that to be a possibility.
    Logan made a noise between a scoff and a laugh and shook his head. “First off, they’re called motorcycle clubs, not gangs. And no, I’m not a part of one; I just love motorcycles. Second, you were wrong earlier, and you’re wrong now. Kash isn’t a nickname. It’s my middle name, and I’ve gone by Kash my entire life. It was my grandpa’s name.”
    Oh sweet baby Jesus, someone please give me a time machine so I can restart today. “Um . . .” I tilted my head to the side and grimaced. “I’m just going to throw myself out of the car now.”
    “Didn’t mean to make you think I’d lied to you or something. Mason was the one who introduced us to your roommate and I was on my way out to fill my bike up with gas, so I didn’t have time to talk to her. He always introduces me as Logan. Not really sure why.”
    “I’m really sorry. I’ve—” I quickly broke off. There was no point in explaining I’d had a bad day. I’d been a bitch, and there was really no excuse for that. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    “So,” I said a couple minutes later, “you just moved in? Are you from the Austin area, or . . .” I trailed off and glanced over to see him sucking on the damn lip ring again. Why was that so hot?
    “Ah, no. We’re from . . . far East Texas.”
    Vague. “Um. Okay. What brought you here?”
    “Change of pace mostly. How about you? You from the area?”
    “We’re from far West Texas.” I let that linger for a moment before turning and shooting him a grin. “Otherwise known as California.”
    “Smart-ass.” He smiled wide and I forced my eyes back on the road. Oh Lord, that smile was perfect. “Let me guess. College?”
    “Yep.”
    “Isn’t it summer? Wouldn’t you want to go home during vacation?”
    “Uh, yeah. It is . . . but Candice has a cheer camp for elementary-school girls she’s working at this summer. And where Candice goes, I go.”
    He huffed softly and looked back at Candice and Mason. “Cheerleader. Yeah, I’d already kinda pegged her as one; she looks like it.”
    At barely over five feet, with bleached blond hair, bright green eyes, and an ever-present smile and bounce in her step, yeah, she definitely looked like