The second Ash sits on the bottom step, Shadow storms from beneath the tree to trample his lap, paws dancing on his face. His laughter causes the cigarette to fall, and I waste no time stomping out the burning end until ash litters my ground.
“Amira! I could have finished that.”
“Well, now you can’t. And you should be thanking me. I’m saving your lungs,” I say, grinding the stick farther into the ground.
“I don’t need saving,” he grumbles, dragging his sneaker-clad heel through the burnt bits on the floor.
The conversation grows stale after that comment because we both know what a lie that is.
We all need saving, some more than others.
“So,” Sage begins, wrapping her long arms around her knees, “wanna come? I’m supposed to be meeting Eden around three-thirty.”
I know if I think about it, then I’ll find a reason to talk myself out of it, so I don’t give myself the chance and just accept the offer. “Yeah. Give me like twenty minutes to get ready.”
Rising from my step, I call Shadow inside and head straight to the bathroom, leaving Sage and Ash outside to talk, or not.
Whatever they want to do.
One of the lights in the bathroom is still busted, cloaking me in a hazy yellow glow as I examine how wild my curls are today.
They aren’t wild at all, thanks to the braid I put it in before Roman and I went to sleep. My hair falls in soft waves down to my hips, tips curling upwards as they lay on the band of my pants.
I pull my hair up with the tie around my wrist, not wanting it to fall in front of my face as I wash it with my new scrub. This one smells faintly of citrus fruits, or at least that’s what Roman says whenever he dips to kiss my cheek.
After giving my teeth a quick brush, I grab my makeup bag from the sink drawer and make myself feel pretty, darkening my lashes until they make the speckles of auburn in my eyes pop, deepening the pinky shade of my lips, so they’re plush and—
‘So biteable.’
I drop the gloss in the sink and grip the counter, fighting the wave of emotion overcoming me when I look at myself in the mirror.
I look just like he wanted me to.
I look beautiful and doll-like.
I look disgusting.
Grabbing a wad of toilet paper from the roll beside me, I roughly wipe at my lips, smearing the gloss until my lips feel raw and the deep shade of nude stains my cheek and chin.
Now I look crazy, with half of my face smeared with pink shit…
But anything is better than looking like Gabriel’s whore.
Cleaning myself up, I storm from the bathroom, catching some of Ash and Sage’s conversation when I quietly enter the bedroom. It seems they’ve moved from outside to inside.
Roman’s snores filter through the small space as I creep across the room to the closet. The door makes a horrible squeak whenever it opens, so very carefully, I twist the knob and stick my hand inside the small crack, feeling around for a pair of jeans and a sweater.
My hand snags onto what I want. Checking over my shoulder, I verify that Roman is still asleep before I strip myself bare, hurrying to get into my jeans and throw his sweatshirt over my plain cotton white bra before grabbing my phone off the bedside table and rushing out of the room.
I speed walk into the living room, almost tripping over my own two feet as I stumble into the couch, interrupting whatever conversation Ash and Sage were having.
“Woah. You all right there?” Ash asks, swiveling around on the couch, watching me right myself with a massive grin on his lips.
“Yeah. Just clumsy. I’m ready whenever you are,” I say to Sage, strolling to the door to grab my black sneakers and loose-leather, brown strap purse.
I feel massively underdressed next to Sage, who stands to meet me by the door. She exudes nothing but feminine grace, displaying her lithe figure. And then there’s me, frumpy in baggy clothing, doing my best to blend into the walls, so no one pays me any attention.
I want to look pretty.
