“I’m Goldie’s boyfriend,” I announce to him with a grim, forced cheerfulness. “And if you kiss her again, I will rip the lips right off your weasley face.”
“Ted,” Goldie urges quietly. She wants me to back off, but a rage pumps through me. A rage I didn’t know I possessed. I was the calm one, the reasonable one.
But reason has abandoned me and I’m seeing red.
Lawrence frowns, looking to Goldie for confirmation. “Seriously? This guy?”
“Scratch that. If you even touch her, I’ll pull your limbs clear off.”
“Ted,” Goldie’s voice continues to get lower, softer.
“What kind of blue-collar trash are you slumming it with, baby girl?” Lawrence asks, with an incredulous scoff.
My vision turns red as control slips from my grasp.
I’m painfully aware of how I don’t fit Goldie’s aesthetic, how out of place I am here, though for a moment I started to believe I could be at ease here. But as soon as I step outside, the cold reality of having to deal with Eli’s debts, to figure out a way to get enough money to keep him from getting killed, is what’s going to keep me up all night. Even if I resell all the appliances I've fixed up, it won’t be enough.
And this guy with his expensive shirt and slick demeanor putting me down for honest work makes me so angry I could spit.
Or shift. . .
Before I can make a move, Goldie steps forward and punches him right in the nose. A crack cuts through the air and blood pours down pretty boy’s face, dripping onto his expensive shirt. His hands fly up to his nose with a cry of pain.
Surprise returns my vision back to normal and cools my blood.
“Blue collar trash? Really, Lawrence?” Goldie shouts. The music jerks to a halt as everyone around us takes in the sideshow. “Any blue-collar worker is better than you by virtue of the fact they can get a job and keep it. I’m sick of hearing your woe is me bullshit and making it my problem. I can’t even remember the last time you helped me with anything. Ted installed air conditioners in my freaking home without me even asking. He makes me breakfast to keep from eating porridge until it pops out of my eyes. And you know the craziest thing of all? He has a real bed, with abedframe. Not a shoddy mattress on the floor. Grow the fuck up and get over yourself. Faelords knows I have.”
With that Goldie turns on her heel and stomps toward the breakroom. Cinder stands a few feet away, her hand held out. Goldie slaps it as she walks by.
Lysander raises his beer glass in her direction as a smattering of applause goes through the room.
Snow appears by Lawrence’s side. “Hello sir, I’m new here, but please allow me to show you the exit in case you aren’t familiar.” Then she grabs him by the arm and drags him along with surprising strength.
“Are you going to just stand there?” Cinder asks me.
“No ma’am,” I say, starting after Goldie.
When I enter the small room of pink lockers, Goldie is furiously reapplying lipstick in the mirror.
For a moment, I’m stunned, in absolute awe of her.
She realizes I’m there, and twists toward me. “What?” she practically shouts, as if she is ready to rumble with the next person who messes with her.
“No one’s ever. . . ” I trail off.
She adjusts her loose curls with a barely restrained violence. “No one’s ever what?”
I usher her up across the small space, pushing Goldie against one of the pink lockers and kiss her. My tongue pushes past her lips to sweep in her sweet mouth. We both groan as she clutches and claws at me.
This girl drives me wild. When I break our kiss, our breaths come out in jagged heaves. A dazed, lustful gleam replaces the fiery wrath that was in her eye a moment ago. “What was that for, Tedly?” she asks in a husky voice.
I search her face for any clue that she knows what she’s just done. “No one’s ever—” the words get stuck in my throat for a moment before I push them out. “No one’s ever defended me like that before.”
Goldie’s expression hardens. “I can’t believe I ever went out with such a contemptible douche.” Then her fingers trail across my jawline as a smile tugs at her lips. “You have pink all over you.”
“That’s okay,” I say, feeling a dumb smile on my face. “It’s my favorite color.”
Surprise and skepticism arches her brows. “Oh really?”
