“You look good,” I comment. “Honestly, you do. The guys are going to be slobbering all over you.”
Sure, it’s short as hell and the possibility of a little nip showing is high, but the red bustier-style bodycon dress molds to her lithe figure perfectly.
“See, you’re worrying over nothing,” Meela states, pulling a peach-colored, patent leather belly shirt from a hanger and slipping it over her head. “Thank God one of you has some fashion sense.Two style-deficient individuals would’ve been way too much for me to handle.”
“Too much skin is showing,” Leah says, nervously wringing her hands together. “People will stare.”
“Then let them stare. You’re sexy as hell,” Meela announces with fire in her eyes. “You need to own that shit.”
“What she said,” I chime in. “I would kill to have a body like yours.”
“You’re just saying that,” she mumbles, her voice small and unsure. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”
“Good grief, girl!” Meela yells in exasperation, donning the matching pants to her shirt. “No one is lying to you.”
Leah sits on the edge of the bed. “What if Snake’s there?”
“I’ve been going to douchebag perv’s parties for two years and haven’t seen him at one yet,” Meela explains to her. “Anyway, fuck the Gods.”
She’s been butthurt ever since the bar, literally and figuratively speaking. Jigsaw, aka her scary crush, knew she was lying about her age, and that falsehood earned her a spanking. She couldn’t sit comfortably for several days after, but that’s not what has her panties in a bunch—it’s that her plan didn’t work.
I clear my throat. “He might be there.”
“What makes you say that?” Meela asks.
“I told Sandman we were going, and he may have mentioned it to Snake.” His leash on my life is tighter than ever. Per his demand, I’m now required to report my every move to him.
Leah whirls around and glares at me. “What the hell, Zilphia? Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” I scoot to the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry.”
“Look, I’m not trying to get all up in your business,” Leah comments, “but this thing going on between you and the death master affects us too.”
“Yeah, it’s not fair keeping us in the dark like this,” Meelaadds, crossing her arms. “Don’t you think it’s time to let us know what’s going on?”
They’re right. They deserve to know what type of person they befriended. “I did something really, really horrible,” I say, unshed tears brimming in my eyes. “Sandman has every right to hate me.”
“Hey, no judgment here.” Meela sits beside me and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever is said won’t leave this room.”
“Neither of you will want to be my friend anymore,” I whisper as hot rivulets spill down my cheeks. I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. No one wants a backstabber for a friend.
“We will.” Leah sits on the other side of me. “I haven’t known you for a long time, but I do know you’re a good person.”
“I was ten when I met Sandman,” I pause and inhale a deep breath. “Back then he was Sam.”My Sam.An image of him from that rainy night flashes in my mind. He was so afraid—dirty, bruised, and shoeless. I wanted to take him in like a stray animal and keep him forever. It’s been eight years, but I remember that night like it was yesterday.
“I found him hiding in my tree house.” Tears splash onto my clasped hands. “He was battered and starving.” I remember thinking he was going to die. My ten-year-old mind couldn’t grasp how someone could be so skinny and be alive. “We became best friends, but we had to keep our friendship a secret, especially from my mother and brother.” There wasn’t room for him in the world she built for me, so we constructed our own. We were stupid to think it would last. “Everything changed when I started high school.”
He loved me, and I broke his heart. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I betrayed him. I told a lie, and it ruined his life. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be Sam. I wish I could take it all back and rewrite both of our destinies.
“Zilphia?” Leah calls out to me, a note of worry in her voice. “Are you okay?”
I blink, spilling more tears down my cheeks. “What?”
“You completely spaced out on us,” Meela says.
“I’m sorry.” I cry harder, wiping the wetness from my heated face with shaky hands. “I’ve never spoken the truth about what happened to anyone.” What I told my parents and the detective in the aftermath of the tree house fire was a complete fabrication.
“Let’s forget the heavy stuff for now,” she chirps, offering me an easy out. “I’m ready to get my party on.”
