“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he says flatly.
“Well then, maybe you should delete them. We wouldn’t want this poor, cute little girl to get hurt, would we?”
He peers at me beneath his thick lashes and snorts. “Tell you what, have this talk with me, and I’ll delete them, okay?”
“You are a manipulative, demonic thorn in my side, Aarons,” I mutter.
“Just returning the favor, Madeline,” he says curtly.
My shoulders sag in defeat, and I trudge to the en-suite bathroom in my room. “Let me go wash this off.”
Collecting myself at the sink, I take a deep breath and repeat;you are still worth something. With no eyebrows filled in, or contour on my face, it’s like I’m going into battle without armor, meagerly equipped with a pair of false lashes I didn’t bother to remove earlier and minimal training at approaching anyone fresh-faced.
My hands shake. I haven’t let anyone see me like this since Brady made it abundantly clear that my vulnerability was a flaw to smooth away.
Not the time to think about it,I chide before turning the knob to my bedroom, barely ready for a fight.
Seth is sitting on my bed, eyes sparkling with amusement when he takes me in.
“Don’t laugh.” I glare at him.
He sticks his palms up in the air. “I wasn’t going to laugh. Can we talk about this shirt, though?”
I was hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“No. Unless you came over here to talk about my at-home leisurewear.”
“Not originally, but now that I’ve seen this, I’d love to devote some time to the conversation before I go out and buy one for myself.” He crosses one of his long, lean legs over his opposite knee like we’re best friends at a sleepover about to share some hot gos.
“Oh. No bother, you can have this one,” I say, gripping the worn, cotton hem of my t-shirt and raising it over my head. There’s no way Seth can handle a woman in a sports bra with the same undeserved bravado he entered this conversation with, and I run without a t-shirt all the time.
“No. It’s fine.” Seth stands brusquely. His hands clutch mine, and he halts my disrobing. My pulse skitters along my heart line when his thumb meets the inside of my wrist. I swallow, looking up at him. I’d never admit this to anyone, but I don’t think the sparking sensation is a byproduct of his flannels anymore.
His eyes dance over my face, then still, gazing at me with a blazing intensity that threatens to incinerate the multiple barriers raised to protect my heart and soul. “I like seeing you without your mask on, Ms. Finch,” he murmurs. His right dimple winks as he flashes me a lopsided grin.
And I’m reduced to nothing but warm, sputtering embers and wind-blown ashes.
Voices clamor with heavy footsteps along the top of the stairs, nearing my room. “Yeah, she’s right inside—” The knob rattles, and the swoosh of the door swinging open follows.
With my back to the door, I have no clue who’s coming in, but by the way Seth’s shoulders raise as the rest of his body goes rigid, it can’t be good.
“Hands,” I whisper. At the same time, a familiar voice grunts, “What the hell?”
Connor.
In a panic, Seth whisks his hands behind his back.
I whip around, only to catch my boyfriend’s backside marching back out of the room. “Connor, I can explain.”
“No need. We’re done, Madeline.” He doesn’t glance again in my direction before he slams the door shut, and footsteps thunder down the stairs.
I lunge towards the door with a harried “shit.”
“Hold on, Madeline—there’s something I need to tell you.” Seth’s fingers brush against the loose hanging cotton of my sleeve, reaching for me.
I shrug his fingers off. “Not now, Seth.” I huff. With one day left before the formal, I can’t have shit like this exploding in my life. Whatever Seth came over to say will have to wait. I bolt out my bedroom door and sprint down the stairs. It’s impressive, given my speed, that I don’t tumble down them instead.
“Oh, did you not want him to see you with Seth?” Cali’s voice follows me.
