Believe Me, I'm Lying

"Hello Harley, this is Sarah Goyle from Super Saver calling about your job application."

I froze, turning in the direction of the messaging machine. This was it, my latest try at a job…

We’re sorry, but I’m afraid we are looking for someone a little older and more experienced for—"

With a sigh of impatience, I slammed the button down. "You said the exact same thing two months ago! You could at least change it up a bit," I muttered angrily, returning to sweeping the kitchen. "Geez."

"Pig! Pig!" Elliot cried from his room. "Olive and I are hungry!"

"Well then you and Olive can come out and get food by yourselves," I called back, rolling my eyes. "You aren’t helpless."

A few moments later Oliver and Elliot appeared in the kitchen, Oliver smirking. "But you are," he said, responding to my earlier comment. "The phone rang earlier. Was it someone from somewhere?"

"Well obviously it was someone from somewhere, Oliver."

He gave me a sarcastic look. "Ha ha."

"It was Sarah Goyle from Super Saver calling me about my job application," I told him, mimicking Sarah’s sickly sweet tone. "Apparently, I’m still too young."

"And your birthday isn’t until February, right?"

"Right— hey, wait. How’d you know that?" I asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow. "I don’t recall telling you that."

Oliver shrugged. "It was on your license."

"You remember from that long ago?"

"Obviously."

I made a face at him, once again resuming my sweeping. "When are you leaving?"

"Never!" Elliot chirped, clinging to Oliver’s leg. "Olive can live with us."

I shook my head at Elliot. "No he can’t, Eli."

"Technically I could," Oliver mused, "since I’m eighteen."

Elliot’s eyes widened and he sucked in a large breath of air, looking like he was going to burst in excitement. I shot a hard look at Oliver, who was chuckling at Elliot’s demeanor.

"Oliver’s not living us with El," I told him.

He deflated like a balloon. His shoulders sagged, and he let out his breath, his face turning into a pout. "Why not?"

"What do you want to eat?" I asked him, ignoring his question. "Cereal?"

"No."

"A sandwich?"

"No."

"Pizza?"

"No."

I turned to give Elliot an annoyed look. "Then what do you want?"

"Whatever Olive wants."

"You do know his name is Oliver, right?" I inquired, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.

Elliot gave me a blank expression. "Olive is Olive…"

"I’m not very hungry," Oliver stated, crossing his arms.

"Then neither am I!"

I sent Oliver a meaningful look. He clicked his tongue. "Fine. I’m hungry."

"Me too!" Elliot cried excitedly.

"What do you want then?"

Oliver gave me a small smirk. "What do you have?" he drawled, leaning against the counter. "I’m picky."

"We don’t have much," I told him, opening the fridge, and peering into it. "I need to go to the grocery store…" The thought brought a frown to my face. The grocery store meant spending money. Money I needed.

"You know, my dad said you could have more hours at the bar if you want," Oliver told me. "Arden only works on Wednesdays and every other Saturday. You could work on all the other days…"

I shook my head. "Other workers have those nights."

"My dad wants to help—"

"I’m okay with money for now," I assured him, frowning slightly. I didn’t want anyone to take pity on me. "I saved up a lot from my other paychecks. I didn’t know what else to do with it. My uncle’s school pays a lot of money…"

"But what are you going to do when that money runs out?"

"I’ll have a job by then…"

"What if you don’t?"

I gave Oliver an irritated look. "Why are you being so negative?"

"Well someone has to since you’re not," Oliver retorted, the same expression on his face. "There’s always a chance things won’t work out."

"I know that."

"Then at least let me tell my dad you’ll consider it. He thinks this is all his fault and he’s pretty upset about it… though I guess it is his fault."

"It’s not his fault," I objected. "Make sure he knows that. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s—"

"Arden’s."

"No! It’s—"

"Tyler’s?" Oliver guessed, putting a hand to his chin. "He really got it from Zak and Tucker…"

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Not physically, but verbally. It was actually pretty funny," Oliver told me, laughing a little. "He wasn’t expecting them to gang up on him together. They also scared the sub pretty bad."

"How’s Arden…?"

"Why do you want to know?" Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t you hate him?"

I shook my head violently. "No! Not at all!"

"But he indirectly got you fired," Oliver pointed out.

"Which was my fault in the end."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at me. I held it, narrowing my own eyes as well. I wasn’t going to put the blame on Arden. Sure, he had slipped up, but everyone makes mistakes. Arden was no exception.

"You’re blinded by your feelings," Oliver declared with a shrug.

"I’m not blinded by my feelings," I snapped at him, feeling my face heat up. "There are no feelings."

He gave me a flat look. "Don’t lie so blatantly."

"Oh, you know such a big word?"

"Harley."

"Look, even if I did, it’s too late now. I’ll probably never see him again. And besides, he’d never trust me the way he did before and a relationship is built on trust."

"Really now?" Oliver said, a smirk slipping onto his face.

"What’s that smirk for?"

"Nothing," he responded, said smile growing wider.

There was a sudden tug at the back of my shirt, and I turned to see Elliot staring petulantly. "Pig, I’m hungry…"

"Right, sorry. Do you want soup?"

Elliot turned to Oliver, looking imploring. Oliver sighed. "Only if it’s chicken."

"How about squirrel?" I joked, heading to the cabinet.

"Shut up," Oliver snapped. "That was when I first moved here. I can say it fine now."

I cocked an eyebrow, turning back to him. "Okay, say it."

He set his jaw. "No."

"Come on, Olive! Say squirrel!" Elliot said, pulling on Oliver’s hand. "Squirrel!"

Oliver shook his head, keeping his mouth shut. I snorted.

"You can say it now, can you?"

"Fine," Oliver responded in a snippy tone. "I’ll say it."

He hesitated for a moment I laughed. "Any year now…"

"Squirrel," he finally blurted out.

An awkward moment of silence passed. Elliot slowly turned to me, a confused expression on his face. As soon as I caught sight of it, I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore. "Oliver, what? What was that? That didn’t sound like squirrel! That sounded like… Sounded like—"

"Let’s hear you talk with an English accent," Oliver demanded. "Let’s see how good you sound using an accent that’s not your natural one."

I immediately sobered up. "No, I can’t…"

"Just a simple sentence. What do you American’s like to say…? Ah, yes. Hello governor."

Shaking my head, I turned back to the cabinet, pulling out a can of soup. "I’m not good with accents," I told Oliver, moving to the next cupboard to fetch a pot. "Especially British ones."

"A spot of tea for the governor," Oliver commented from behind me. "Cheerio. Tea. Crumpets. Biscuit."

I turned to scowl at Oliver. "I liked you better when you rarely talked."

"Well I like being myself around you. Sorry if it bothers you. There aren’t that many people I feel uncomfortable enough around," Oliver responded in a casual manner.

I almost dropped the pot on the stove. I turned to survey Oliver carefully. He returned my gaze with a questioning one. Before he could say anything, I faced forwards again, feeling warmth spread across my cheeks. Oliver felt comfortable enough around me to be himself? Did that mean his jerk side was just an outer persona? Well, some of it. Oliver was still a jerk. But that wasn’t the point.

"Hey Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the other day in class… You know, for sticking up for me," I said, keeping my back to him.

"It’s no problem," he responded nonchalantly.

"It may be no problem to you, but it means a lot to me," I told him, trying to pull the top of the can of soup off. "I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there." Frowning, I pulled harder on the tab.

"Let me do that," Oliver suggested, reaching his hands around me, and taking the can out of my hands. "And you would have done fine, Harley. You’re a strong person."

"Obviously not strong enough to open a can," I muttered, very aware of Oliver’s arms around me.

Oliver opened the can of soup with ease and retracted his arms, much to my dismay. He dumped its contents into the pot as I stared at his long, slim fingers. When he put the can down, my hand involuntarily grabbed his free one. His hand froze. I realized what I was doing and quickly let go.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, holding my arms tightly at my sides.

Suddenly our hands were together again, this time due to Oliver. He turned me around, giving me an expressive look. "Don’t apologize."

"But…"

"Harley, I like you," Oliver said, frowning slightly. "Don’t apologize for something like that."

"I like you too, Oliver," I responded, putting my hand over our enclosed hands. "Especially this honest side of you."

"But," he prodded.

"How’d you know there was a but?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "If there wasn’t a but, you wouldn’t have pulled your hand away so quickly."

"I don’t want a relationship until I get another job," I told him in a rush.

"What?"

"What what?"

Oliver gave me an interested look. "Why do you want to wait until you get another job?"

"Because I don’t know what will happen if I can’t get a job," I told him, dropping my gaze. "In order for me to live by myself, there are a lot of legal processes I have to go through and stuff. I have to have a job, a car, a place big enough for Elliot and myself, and son on. If I don’t get another job quickly, and someone hears wind of it, then Elliot and I get shipped off to foster homes."

"And chances are you and Elliot won’t go to the same home…"

"Right."

"Harley, remember what my dad said."

I nodded slowly. "If all else fails, I’ll have to… but I don’t want to impose."

"You won’t be imposing."

"Still, I want to at least try by myself."

Oliver sent me an impatient look. "Well hurry up. While you may be patient, I’m not."

I couldn’t help but to grin at Oliver. "Well, Oliver. You’re really different from that delinquent I met a few months ago."

"I’m still the same person."

"You’re nicer," I told him.

Oliver snorted. "No I’m not."

"Yes you are."

"You’re stupid."

The sound of someone clearing their throat filled the room before I could say more. My eyes dropped to Elliot, who was giving me an impatient look.

"You always forget I’m in the room, Pig!" he accused, putting his hands on his lips.

"Sorry, Eli," I apologized, squatting down to his level. "Your soup is cooking."

"I want crackers too."

"Of course."

As I moved towards the cabinet with the crackers, my phone started ringing again. I furrowed my eyes in confusion. No one else I knew of was supposed to call today. "I’ll be right back," I told Oliver and Elliot, heading towards the phone. On the third ring, I picked it up, putting it against my ear. "Hello?"

"Harley?"

"Uncle Rob?"

"It’s me," he responded in an excited tone. "How are you?"

"I’m good, you?" I responded slowly, trying to figure out why he was calling me. Unless…

There was the sound of someone talking on the other side of the phone, and my uncle responded to them, but I couldn’t hear what he said. "Harley, I think I may have a job for you if you’re interested."

My heartbeat began to beat a little quicker. "Really?"

"It’s not exactly the same as your old job, but it’s close. It’s still at school."

Please don’t let it be a dishwasher, I begged silently to myself. "What is it?"

My uncle stayed silent for a moment. I figured he was trying to keep me in suspense. "A teacher assistant."

"Teacher assistant?" I repeated, furrowing my eyebrows. "To what?"

"Our new home economic teacher," my uncle told me. "She requested one, and suggested you be the one."

She suggested me? "Who is she?"

"Barbara Vachelli. Do you know her?"

"No," I said slowly, growing more confused. "I don’t…"

A loud crash came from the other side of the phone. "Oh come on," my uncle complained loudly before I heard the sound of the phone being put down. "No," I heard my uncle say sternly to someone.

"Have a new dog?" I joked when my uncle picked up the phone again.

"Sort of. So will you take the job?"

I didn’t even hesitate. "Yes."

"Perfect," my uncle responded sounding just as excited as I felt. "You start on Monday then. I have to go now."

"Okay. Bye."

I placed the phone back down on the receiver, staring at it in astonishment. I had a job again? At the school? Moving back to the kitchen, I found Oliver pouring Elliot’s soup into one of the porcelain bowls I never used. When he heard me enter he looked up at me with an inquisitive look.

"Who was that?"

"My uncle…"

He looked even more curious. "What did he want? Did he tell you to clean out your locker or something?"

"We don’t have lockers," I told him, rolling my eyes. "And no. Actually, he was offering me a job."

Oliver’s eyes widened the slightest bit. "What?"

"The new home economics teacher wants an assistant," I told him, feeling a grin spread across my face. "And she wants me."

"Who is she?"

"I don’t know," I told him honestly. "But it’s not like I’m going to refuse the job offer. I’m going back to work at the school—"

Before I could blink Oliver was across the room, his hand slipping to the back of my head. He lifted it up slightly, bringing his own head closer to me. My breath caught in my throat at our proximity. A small, amused smile spread cross his lips.

"You have a job now," Oliver told me in a matter-of-fact tone, smiling smugly.

"I—"

My responded was cut off when Oliver pressed his lips against mine. Instead of doing what I should have done and closing my eyes, instead they widened and I stood awkwardly, too surprised to respond to the kiss. Oliver pulled away, frowning at me.

"The least you could do is kiss me back," he said in an offended voice.

"Well you kissed me without any warning!" I shot back, feeling my face catch on fire. "You could have at least warned me or something!"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Didn’t you realize something was going to happen when I came close?"

"No!"

"I’m going to kiss you again."

"Oliver—"

Staying true to his words, he held my head still and kissed me once more. My face grew darker and I froze again, unable to kiss him back. He pulled away again, frowning deeply.

"We can keep doing this until you get this right, Harley."

"Oliver, Oliver, wait," I demanded, putting a hand to his face as he tried to kiss me again.

"What?" he murmured through my fingers.

"Elliot…"

We both turned to my little brother, who was watching us intently, his mouth open, and his soup filled spoon suspended in the air an inch away from this mouth. Oliver immediately backed away from me, holding up his hands to Elliot.

"You didn’t see anything," he told Elliot in a firm voice.

Elliot closed his mouth abruptly, dropping his spoon back into his bowl. "Olive…"

"Elliot…"

"Olive and Pig sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G," he sang excitedly, grinning at us. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Ardy in a baby carriage!"

I grimaced at my little brother, who continued repeating the silly little children’s song. Oliver glanced at me, his expression caught between amusement and annoyance. I couldn’t help but laugh. And when I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. Everything was going okay again. Everything was working out. There was just one thing I needed to fix before it was perfect.

Arden.