Seduced by Lies (7 page)

There was no doubt that he’d screwed up badly. He wasn’t sure why his words had triggered such a violent reaction, but his eagerness and impatience had got the better of him and now he was back to square one. Well, worse than square one really. He still didn’t even know her name!

              “But, not unsalvageable.” He murmured to himself. It would be hard work, but then life was hard work, day in day out, and at least this hard work would be worth something. In the past twenty four hours, Sam had experienced soaring highs and soul-crushing lows of real emotions that he never possibly could have imagined existed, and he was not about to give those up without a fight. He’d seen a new future, a new life laid out before him, if he would only just reach out and claim it. He rose up on shaky, uncertain limbs, shaking the pins and needles gently out of his lower legs and wiping the quickly congealing blood off his hands as best he could onto his dark jeans, before turning his back on the scene of that mornings utter, crushing failure and squeezing               back out of the hedgerow.

Sam couldn’t even begin to guess how long he’d been in the overgrown smoking area, which now looked so peaceful and innocent. All he could tell was that College was definitely in full swing. The previously deserted car park was now practically overflowing with various, clapped out, hand me down cars and the ridiculous, tiny, bubble shaped cars that (for some bizarre reason unknown to man or beast) had become popular with all the girly-girls in Sam’s year. The sun had also seemed to have shifted its position dramatically, and now shone fiercely and relentlessly down on the top of Sam’s head.

Brow furrowed with confusion, Sam pulled his mobile phone from his jeans pocket, wincing as the rough denim chafed against the grit-filled wounds on his palms. Squinting to see the screen through the glare, he looked at the tiny clock in the top right hand corner - 11:59 am. He’d been slumped against that hedge, wallowing in his own blood and misery for nearly three hours!

             
“Well that’s this College day down the drain!” He chuckled to himself, marveling at how trivial things like education and time management now seemed, in the light of much more life changing events.

Sam weighed up his options. He couldn’t let himself be seen in College - there’d be too many questions about his absence and the grizzly state of his palms, questions that he simply did not have answers for yet. But neither could he bring himself to go home over three hours early, despite the comparably pleasant morning. He knew exactly where he wanted to be, where those pesky, invisible hooks in his skin begged him to go, but was he ready? Was it too soon?

              After another fifteen minutes of arguing with himself on the bonnet of his car, Sam was, once again, running out of time. Soon, hundreds of College students would be pouring out of the revolving doors at the other end of the car park, to spend their lunch hour basking and flirting in the persistent September sun, and there was no way he could be around here when that happened. And so Sam chose the only other option he could think of (or wanted to think of, he wasn’t quite sure), and allowed those invisible fishermen and their invisible hooks to reel him in, leading him around the very outer edge of the west side of the College, towards the rarely-used and little-known second entrance door to the library.

             
Sam felt as if he’d bought a season ticket to the world's most harrowing, exhilarating, soul-satisfying and addictive roller coaster - a roller coaster he would more than happily strap himself into, time and time again, until he reached his destination. While his feet pounded across the grass of the football pitch his mind raced with excitement and ideas, and his mouth repeated the words -

“Baby steps. Baby steps. Don’t rush it. Don’t screw it up. Baby steps...”

              Sienna’s memory of that morning was worryingly vague. She recalled entering the smoking are with crystal clarity, the memory of sparking up and simply bathing in the beautiful solitude of her tiny little patch of semi-overgrown nature, chuckling as she raised an imaginary glass to the world. She remembered thinking how she could happily spend the entire day in that blissful little corner, passing her time unnoticed by the prying eyes or wagging tongues of the outside world. But of course, her sanctuary had been invaded by Sam. The lumbering oaf had ruined her peace and quiet and had come storming through the hedge like a wounded wildebeest.

             
She’d been a bit annoyed, not particularly angry per say, just quite miffed that he wouldn’t leave, even after she made it very clear, more than once, that she’d rather be alone. But his odd characteristics, once again, had intrigued her - he’d been very nervous, refused the joint, apologized to her and even admitted he was a twat - all of which contradicted the behavior of every Jock in human history.

             
Nonetheless, she’d tried to remain as cold and distant as possible, despite her slightly peaked intrigue (an intrigue she loathed to admit, even to herself), but the more they had talked the harder it became, and she almost caught her icy mask slipping once or twice.  It had taken physical effort to stop her eyes from widening in surprise when he had listed Tolstoy, Baudelaire and F. Scott Fitzgerald. While they were fairly common names in certain circles, she had never expected to hear them tumble from the lips of a stuttering, baseball cap wearing, College Jock (not that she let him know that - it would do no good for it to go to his already slightly oversized head). She’d also tried subtly forcing herself to make eye contact with him - to look into his eyes and ascertain whether or not she’d imagined Sam’s eyes possessing the same fathomless, intellectual depths as her darling Jack’s eyes. But she’d pussied out - every time she got close, every time he began to look towards her, she’d darted her gaze away, suddenly unsure whether or not she was ready for the answer.

And that’s where things started to get blurry. As far as Sienna could remember there had been a long silence, and a lot of tension had built up for some reason that she couldn’t quite place. Her last tangible memory had been of fidgeting around on top of the bin, wishing desperately that she could leave, while at the same time stubbornly holding her ground.

              After that, all Sienna could remember was a searing white light and a feeling of forgetfulness, as if she’d passed out for just a second, before coming to in her favorite corner of the library. The only problem was, she came to at 11:00 am - two hours after the very last thing she remembered, and had (according to the librarian, who was somewhat confused by Sienna’s questions) been in the library for that entire time, apparently reading Pride & Prejudice, quite contentedly.

             
Sienna had remained in the library, pondering over her second very odd day in a row, wondering what it all meant, if anything at all. She worried over what she might have said or done in the smoking area, and then began worrying about the fact that she was worrying - why should she care whether she insults a Jock or not? Even if he is a semi-clever Jock, he could have at least come to look for her to see if she’s ok. This realization of apparent abandonment left Sienna with a very bitter taste in her mouth, and she found herself hoping she had been particularly foul to Sam during that unaccounted for period. Would serve him right.

             
And so she stayed at that desk, tucked away at the back of the library for the rest of the day, absent-mindedly flicking through various posts, mostly on the British Poetry Centre homepage and facebook page, chasing dozens of different tangents in her head and trying to make them all fit and mesh together, in a vain attempt at making sense of what her life had become.

             
She was so preoccupied with her thoughts and feelings and her attempts at understanding them, that she failed to feel or notice the eyes that watched her intently from across the room, silently drinking in the sight of her for a solid three hours, observing her nervous habits and twitches, and making notes of her favorite websites.

CHAPTER 5 - GOING UNDERCOVER

             
“Dude, where were you yesterday?” Lee called across the canteen as Sam strode towards his group of friends the next morning, the spring in his step refusing to falter.

“Yeah,” Johnny interjected as they all robotically participated in the routine round of high fives. “I say your car up in the corner over there, so where did you bugger off to all day?”

“Oh, I just hung around town for the day. You know, couldn’t be arsed with lectures.” Sam lied casually.

“Could of told us.” Johnny grumbled in his usually grumpy tone as the group began to walk slowly in unison towards their first lecture. “We would of come with you man - screw lectures.”

“Naa mate, look at that smile!” Lee cried in his usual boisterous manner, grabbing hold of Sam’s admittedly smug face, “Our boy here got laid!” He finished, whooping and high fiving Sam once more.

“So, tell us the details then.” Dan demanded from behind Sam’s shoulder as the boys drew closer in around Sam, each as eager as the next to revel in every gory moment.

“Alright, alright - You got me!” Sam held up his hands convincingly, happy to participate in the boys little games for today.

“So who was it then?” Lee demanded eagerly. “It wasn’t that weird chick from the other day was it?”

“No. What weird chick?” Sam replied, perhaps a fraction too quickly. “Oh, that one? Naa, crazy ain't my kind of thing.” He added, trying to be casual and silently apologizing to his enigma girl.

“Good man.” Dan patted him on the back. “So, who was it?” He repeated Lee’s demand.

“No one you know.” Sam teased, covertly reveling in his secret. “A blonde girl - senior chick from that College a few towns over.” He fabricated confidently. This statement was followed by another round of whoops and yet more needlessly complicated high fives and congratulatory handshakes, the boys obviously satisfied with this fabricated blonde beauty. Sam's mind was already drifting away from their childish banter, reliving the glorious breakthrough through previous day had finally managed to achieve.

             
He had watched the girl - ‘his girl’, as he liked to call her in his head - he had watched her from a distance, for the whole of the previous afternoon, while she had been in in the library. Very much like the first time they had met, he had peaked at her from behind a conveniently placed bookcase, but this time he’d stayed hidden, deciding to take his time before making his next step, rather than end up looking like a complete idiot again, and risking their relationship even further.

             
Again, Sam had lost complete track of time while he was near to her, and figured that it must just be some other strange and unexplainable affect she had on him. Before he knew it, he’d been stood behind that bookcase, gazing at the girl he was pretty sure he was falling in love with, for three and a half hours, and she began to pack her bags, ready to leave and go home.

             
Even though Sam felt he could have stayed in that very spot, simply looking at her for an eternity, he was satisfied that he’d got what he needed for now. He’d found out that she actually did have a facebook page, despite all his fruitless searching, as he’d watched her on her laptop, flicking back and forth between different pages and groups. And while he’d been just a little too far away to make out the name on her account, he had been able to catch the title of a facebook group and a website that she seemed particularly absorbed by - He’d seen her dark, expressive eyes sparkle and glisten with passion and interest as she’d pored attentively over the articles and posts on the British Poetry Centre pages, fervently replying with her own comments and thoughts, a rare smile curling the corners of her red lips as she did so.

             
Without her even being aware of it, Sam was quickly learning more and more about his girl as he watched - he felt privileged to be able to see her as she actually was, without her cold, harsh walls of self-protection raised around her. When she was on her own, she was mostly relaxed, allowing herself to be absorbed in the well-written words and well-spun worlds within the pages and lines that she was so enthralled by. This state of total absorption reminded Sam of himself as a child, during those glorious evenings when his father would let Sam into his office and they would sit together in serene silence, each of them lost within the thick, parchment pages of his father’s old and impressive collection of books. It was only when other people drew too near to her and threatened her bubble of literary contentment that her eyes would turn cold and her shoulders stiff, as if she was bracing herself for confrontation.

             
This proved to Sam that he hadn’t imagined those half-glances or brief looks of intrigue behind her eyes - there was definitely a softer side to this girl, a part of her that longed to be loved and cared for (maybe even a tiny part that longed for Sam himself to love and care for her) - he just had to approach it carefully.

             
He’d forced himself to remember the words ‘British Poetry Centre’, repeating them over and over under his breath as he drove home, barely focusing on the road in front of him. This could be his gateway in - no matter how unlikely it seemed, the universe had given Sam yet another chance, and he had a feeling it would keep giving him all the chances he would need, because him and his girl were meant to be, that much was obvious to him.

             
And so that night, forgetting to pay any attention whatsoever to his mother (despite being so caring that morning), Sam had spent another long a tiresome night in front of the glare of his computer screen, studying the British Poetry Centre website and their facebook page.

             
He’d pretty much instantly found the quote that his girl had put on the facebook page - the heartache within the words taken from a Rainer Maria Rilke poem (Sam was unsure of the poet at first, and had to Google it to be sure) leapt out at him from his screen and struck a deep and resonating chord. He knew instantly it had to be her, not from her profile picture, which didn’t even show her face in the tiny thumbnail, but from the simply beauty and intense meaning behind the words, which only people like him and her could truly understand.

He’d had to brace himself before reading her name, the moment that he’d been yearning for now suddenly seeming so overwhelming and monumental. As his eyes drank in the words, his lips muttered them and his tongue enjoyed the way her name slid sweetly and smoothly across his taste buds.

“Sienna Selway.” He practically licked his lips as the words fell from them, over and over again.

             
“Sienna Selway. My Sienna Selway.” Sam quickly clicked onto her profile, scrolling desperately through her pictures as he yearned to see her face again, despite spending hours staring at it earlier that day. Not that his scrolling yielded anything - most of the photos were artsy ones that seemed to be taken by Sienna herself - impressive, to say the least. Looking upon the beautiful images and moments she had captured, Sienna grew ever more beautiful in Sam’s mind, her soft, intelligent, artistic side becoming ever more apparent to him.

             
As he trawled through her facebook page, gleaning and devouring as much information as he could about his amazing enigma girl, he noticed there were very few people on her friends list, which was made up and balanced out by the sheer number of literary, poetry, arts and other similar groups and pages that she was a member of. Sam had never been so in awe of anyone, not even his father, and felt he was beginning to understand what Sienna had meant when she’d said she was so far above and ahead of all of them - the deeper he delved into her facebook profile, the deeper he delved into Sienna’s mind, and the plane of intelligence on which she existed - none of her few friends were even close to hers and Sam's ages - they were all middle aged or slightly younger, accomplished academics with impressive CV’s and posts and opinions that even Sam's above-average mind struggled to comprehend. Not even he could have guessed at the true depths that Sienna so carefully hid behind the fortresses she put up around her, and this humbled him, making that persistent pull he felt towards her tug ever deeper and harder.

             
His mouse hovered for a moment over the ‘Add Friend’ link on Sienna Selway’s homepage, and he’d been about to take the leap when his over-excited mind reminded him just what happens when he dives in blindly and without patience. He jerked his hand quickly away from the mouse button as his brain recalled the image of Sienna’s stone cold eyes, glaring at him with venomous hatred after he’d made just one tiny misstep. No, she definitely wouldn’t consider him worthy of being her ‘friend’, at least not if she knew it was Sam who was adding her.

And that’s when Sam had birthed the simplest, cleverest and most daring idea of his life - the very foolproof idea that brought that unmovable smug smile to his face as he walked with his friends the next morning.

              Sam was now certain he could get close to Sienna, that he could make her open up and allow him into her world, just not as himself. He practically strutted through the College halls as he thought of what lay waiting for him on his computer at home - the half completed, fake facebook profile of Lewis Stowell - a deeply intelligent and virtually peerless English tutor from half way across the country, whose impressive knowledge and heartfelt, cultured quotes and references was sure to win Sienna over. Not to mention the fact that he just so happens to share most of her interests and is a member of many of the same facebook groups as she is. Sam had realized that all he needed was an appropriate mask to hide the outward, jock appearance that was the only thing that seemed to be stopping her from seeing the real him. He needed to replace it with an appearance and a profile that she could relate to and identify with on her intellectual level - if he could get her to be comfortable and to see who he truly was on the inside, even if it was done deceitfully over the internet, he knew he could convince her to be entirely his. Lewis Stowell was that appearance, that mask that he needed, and Sam was now fully prepared to play the long game of patience.

             
Despite the terror and trepidation that Sienna couldn’t help but feel as she made her morning journey into College over the next few days, everything started going surprisingly smoothly for her. She’d decided to forgo having any more early morning joints in the College smoking area - despite having to admit that Sam had had such an effect on her, whatever had or hadn’t  happened there the other morning had shook Sienna for reasons she couldn’t grasp. This, in her eyes, was a sign that her defenses had been breached, which both wounded her pride and annoyed her deeply, not to mention had sullied one of the few peaceful and beautiful little corners of that grim and depressing establishment.

             
But Sam didn’t hassle her again for a while. Sienna saw hide nor hair of the boy who had at first seemed so insistent and unrelenting, which, while being a nice, peaceful break, made Sienna certain that whatever she had said or done in those moments that she still could not remember, whatever had happened that morning had been enough to finally make him understand and give up his pathetic chase. At first she had felt slightly guilty - a ridiculous feeling which quickly ebbed over the next day or two as she slowly came around and metaphorically slapped some sense into herself and putting that annoying jock to the very back of her mind, after which she felt considerably better.

             
The library had remained a safe place for Sienna to retreat to, the rest of the students preferring the unnatural glare of the screens and the dull, mechanical, drone of the computer room two floors above, and so she had chosen to spend as much time as she possibly could, hidden among the loyal and reliable books and keeping close company with her laptop - her link to her online community and her educated, accomplished acquaintances - people who were actually capable of conducting an intelligent conversation and holding relevant and meaningful opinions. It was into this online world that Sienna let herself sink gratifyingly. Her lecturer (the ditzy bint that she was) barely noticed whether Sienna attended the classes or not, and Sienna was more than confident that she could easily complete the somewhat unchallenging assignments with the barest minimum of attendance, and so that’s exactly what she did. Spending her days lost in a world of literary splendor, losing hours to the whim of the well-spun English language, but constantly hungering for more, yearning for something just out of reach that her conscious mind could not place and her subconscious could not bear to think about. While she reveled in each beautifully placed word and marveled at every latest literary article, it was more like she was enjoying the memories of feelings that this pastime brought her - her joy always tinged with a bittersweet longing for moments gone by. It were as if she were searching for a way back to him, scouring every web page and article, every forum and facebook page of the authors, poets, organizations and establishments that he taught her of and talked so highly about, as if looking for hints or clues.

             
And while it pained her, this was all she knew now - better to cling as tightly as she could on to the precious memories of him and their time together, and endure the painful slice of their bittersweet edge, than to let go of the memories and watch them fade, thereby losing any trace of the only happiness she was ever likely to have, and casting her world entirely into an eternal night of misery.