I could deal with a little crush. No big deal. I couldn’t browse the Internet without finding a picture of some attractive guy I would never meet.
And that was the story I was going to go with.
I mean, I could admire him from afar without it meaning anything, right?
“Good morning.” I smiled over at him as platonically as possible. Even with a bit of dried drool on the corner of his lips and part of his hair smashed against his scalp, he was a looker after waking up.
Then there were people like me in the morning. Once in my teens, I’d woken up to find the three spawns of Satan hanging out in the living room early in the morning playing video games. My brother had pulled one of our mom’s largest crucifixes off the wall and held it in the air at me while he hissed, “I banish thee!”
“Morning,” Sacha replied with a yawn. He blinked those sleepy crystal-clear gray eyes and long black lashes. “Are you going to the movies with us?” he asked.
“Morning, Mariah.” What movies was he talking about? I shook my head. “I didn’t know anyone was going to the movies.” Awkward.
He lifted a shoulder as he rubbed at an eye with a balled up fist. “I just told you. Come with us. After we grab a shower, Matt—” that was our bus driver’s name “—said he’d park at a mall with a movie theater.” When I didn’t immediately reply, he blew out a long breath of air directly into my face, making me wince. “I’ll even let you share whatever you buy with me.”
“I have a feeling that even if I don’t agree to share my stuff with you, you’d take it anyway.” I leaned back and asked in the nicest voice I could muster, “When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”
Sacha cupped a hand over his mouth, making it seem like he was blowing into his palm and breathing it in with a wince. “Your guess sounds about right, and I brushed them last night.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes playfully. “It’s time you brushed your teeth again, and you’re lucky that I don’t have a problem sharing as long as you wash your hands first.”
“I think it’s timeyoubrushed your teeth again—“
I blew into my hand too. “My breath doesn’t smell,” I argued.
“And I’m very glad to know that you are willing to share.” I grinned at him, earning one back in return. “Just for you, I’ll brush my teeth now. Happy?”
I nodded. “Very.” I wanted to add that a hot guy with morning breath was a tragedy but I didn’t. Admitting out loud that I found him attractive would be terrible, embarrassing and pathetic in no particular order. Even though I had a feeling Sacha wouldn’t be one of those people who would make a friendship awkward after a declaration of that proportion, I wasn’t going to rely on it. Plus, with my luck and his goofy nature, he’d probably make fun of me for it. I sighed in my head and cast a glance at him. “What movie are we watching?”
Hours later, after we’d gotten off the bus to shower at yet another travel center, I’d convinced Eli via text message to braid my hair. I hadn’t felt like a real girl in what seemed like forever. Being around these guys who had witnessed me go through puberty, braces, the immediate effects of having my wisdom teeth removed, every bad haircut I’d ever had and came to visit me post-surgery when I was high as a kite, drove me to basically not give a single shit about my appearance.
The last time I’d worn make-up other than lipstick and eyeliner had been the first day of tour. I hadn’t even bothered putting concealer over my bruise. The last time I wore something other than shorts and sweats had been the same day; wearing shirts without stains on them was the extent of my vanity. Body odor was also a regular worry. I’d been more focused on being comfortable than trying to look cute despite my brother’s constant teasing about how I looked haggard. People that came by the merch booth seemed to be okay with me wearing a tank top, having non-stinky breath and a ready smile, so what was the point in trying harder? I’d been making more tips over the last few days than I had before, and I had a feeling it was because of the purple and red coloring along the lower bones of my face.
But each night, I faced girls who had taken time with their appearance, and it made me feel a little down day after day, though I knew there wasn’t a point in trying when there was a show. I’d look like a drowned clown by the time we had to get back on the bus regardless of how much or how little make-up I applied.
Laila had always told me that she felt better when she knew she looked nice. In my case, I’d take feeling like a normal, clean girl in a heartbeat. There was nothing that a shower, the dress I’d grabbed from my suitcase and a good braid couldn’t give me a kick-start to.
Eli snuck into the back room of the bus with me after agreeing to shower quickly so we could lock the door and get to business.
“You have a lot of split ends,” Eli claimed an entire minute after I’d sat on the floor in front of him cross-legged. His fingers parted my hair with no care or gentility, but I knew better than to complain about how rough he was being. It was the usual.
“I’m pretty sure I asked you to braid my hair, not for your expert opinion on whether I need a haircut or not, Vidal Sassoon,” I laughed, digging my elbow into the meaty part of his inner thigh.
The bastard yanked on my hair hard while snorting. “I hope you go bald.” His large hands brushed through my hair once more before parting it again the way he wanted, not that there was that much hair on one side of my head anyway.
I was not going to whine about the shaved section that made my bone structure look rounder. Nope.
Eli had learned how to braid my hair when we were nine because Mom had broken her hand and couldn’t do it for me. What had started as a simple braid down the back of my head had turned into a full-blown interest that led him to learn how to French-braid the hell out of my hair. He’d even nailed a fishtail at some point; when or how he did it, I wasn’t sure, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to ask either.
The fact was, he was better at it than our mom had ever been. His talent was also one of those things that we kept between the two of us and our parents. Gil and Rafe had never said anything about it so I wasn’t even sure they knew. I never gave Eli shit about braiding; it was something he’d learned how to do because he loved me—and I’d begged. I didn’t want to taint it with jokes and ruin a good thing.
“I still can’t believe you punched Brandon in the throat,” he snorted as some of his fingers grazed over the buzzed section above my ear.
I really was quite proud of myself, and I’m pretty sure I preened at Eli’s compliment. Then I remembered what Brandon had said and my good mood plummeted. That fucking prick. “Did you hear what he said?”
“Not all of it. I heard bits and pieces when you were yelling at him, but then you got this crazy-ass look on your face, and it got me wondering why the fuck you were smiling like that.” He didn’t even pretend to not be nosey. “What’d he say?”
I sighed and reclined against the seat more, the sides of my twin’s gigantic thighs pressing against my shoulders. “He pretty much admitted he started talking to that girl he’s dating before we split up, and that it’d been a hard decision and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings…”
