But since my accident, I’ve found I get enough stares without trying to look like I raided Elton John’s closet during his most experimental phase. So my clothes choices now involve various shades of beige and “please don’t notice me.”
Still, I have a wardrobe full of amazing clothes that no longer see the light of day. I imagine them having secret meetings in the dark corners of my closet, plotting their revenge. My metallic silver bomber jacket is definitely the ringleader, reminding the mesh tank tops about the glory days when they got to feel the strobe lights of nightclubs instead of collecting dust. And I’m pretty sure my leather pants have started a support group for abandoned statement pieces.
But this morning, I find myself hesitating instead of reaching for another one of my collection of hoodies that make me look like I’m in a witness protection program.
Instead, I choose a deep teal T-shirt, the kind of color that exists somewhere between the ocean and a peacock’s throat. The T-shirt hugs my torso like a really supportive friend who’sdetermined to show off my good qualities and makes my blue eyes pop.
Taking the risk with my outfit turns out to be worth it when I see the flicker of appreciation in Jared’s eyes after he invites me into his apartment and runs his gaze down me.
“Hey,” he says.
He, of course, is looking good enough to lick in a forest-green sweater and jeans that sculpt to his perfect ass.
Between the warmth in his gaze and how good he looks, my mouth goes dry.
And okay, okay, we’re doing the friend thing, but it doesn’t mean I can’t notice things. My vision isn’t impaired, after all.
“Hey,” I reply, not managing to completely keep my voice neutral.
But we don’t have much time for mutual ogling because Jared’s front door bursts open and in comes a woman who can only be Jared’s sister. Her dark hair falls in waves past her shoulders and her eyes are the same warm brown, though they’re framed by dark circles.
She’s in her early twenties at the most and looks far too young to have a four-year-old daughter trailing after her.
“Sorry we’re so late. We had a meltdown about socks. Twenty minutes about whether the dolphins on them were happy enough. I’m not equipped for philosophical debates about hosiery happiness before coffee.”
I laugh, and it brings her attention to me.
“Hi, I’m Felix,” I say.
Her gaze immediately fixates on my scars before drifting back to meet my eyes.
“Ah, yeah, hi. I’m Sophie,” she says. “Jared told me about you.”
Jared’s told her about me? That’s got to be a good thing, right?
Her gaze slides to Jared, and there’s something in her expression I can’t quite read. “You’ve just moved in down the hall, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve just moved up from Hamilton.”
“The mighty Ton,” she says, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
She glances down at Emmy, who has already cuddled into Jared’s legs and is staring up at me with wide eyes. “Mummy’s got to go now. You have a good time with Uncle Jared and Felix, okay? I’ll see you later.”
With a flurry of hugs for Emmy and Jared, she whirls out of the apartment.
I blink slightly, still trying to process that look Sophie gave Jared. Did Jared say something to her about me that prompted that look? Or is it just a reaction to my face? Maybe she’s wondering why Jared didn’t warn her that his new friend looks like he got into a fight with an overly enthusiastic blender.
But when I glance over at Jared, all thoughts of Sophie disappear at the adorable sight of Jared fixing the dark hair escaping Emmy’s lopsided pigtails.
“This is Emmy. Say hi to Felix, Emmy.”
Emmy just snuggles further into Jared.
I crouch to her height. “Hey, Emmy. I’m Felix. I heard we’re going to see some fish today. Do you want to know a secret?”
She stares at me suspiciously.
“I can speak fish. Want me to teach you? It goes like this: blub blub blub.” I puff out my cheeks and make a ridiculous fish face.
