And I can’t betray my brothers – Ledger – no matter what my heart keeps telling me.
So this is the best course of action, staying away like we always have.
“And why’s that?” he challenges.
I press my hands harder on the Mustang. “Because you’re right. This is stupid. I never should’ve worn thisstupiddress.”
Yeah, everything happened because of this stupid freaking dress.
If I wasn’t wearing this, then I’d be safely tucked away inside Tempest’s room, watching something silly on her laptop instead of standing out here in these torturous heels under historturousscrutiny.
“Why did you then?”
“Because I wanted to see what it felt like…” I trail off when I realize what I was going to say.
Of course, he hones in on that and his features grow alert. “Felt like what?”
Well, I was stupid enough to bring it up, wasn’t I?
I can be stupid, stupid,stupidenough to finish it too.
What do I have to lose anyway?
I fist the dress and stand tall in my heels. “I wanted to see what it felt like to be sexy. To be tempting for a day. To feel like all the girls at school. All the girls you hang out with.”
There. I said it.
It’s over. My humiliation is complete.
Can I just go home now and never ever come back here, to his house?
“You wanted to feel like the girls I hang out with.”
Oh, so it’s not complete yet. My humiliation.
Fine.
Whatever. I can deal with this.
“Yes.” I sigh. “I wanted to feel sexy and confident and, I don’t know, just not like a good girl all the time. But Iama good girl, aren’t I? Because I hate this dress. And I hate these heels and I hate you too. So from now on, I’m not going to dance for you and you can’t come watch me like it’s your right or something. I’m not for your personal entertainment, okay?”
Then I throw my hands in the air and snap, “In fact from now on, you should ask one of your girlfriends to dance for you. I’m sure they’d be happy to accommodate your every whim like they always are. So, is there anything else you need to say to me, because I’d like to leave now.”
He stares at me and stares at me with an inscrutable expression until I start to feel like a freak show for going off like that.
But he deserved it, didn’t he?
He…
“They’re not my girlfriends,” he murmurs after a bit.
Something about his casual answer irritates me even further and I snap, “Yeah, do they know that?”
“They do, yes.” He shrugs then but there’s this wild, wild intensity on his face, in his body too, looking all tight and strung up. “With me, they always know. I don’t do girlfriends.”
“And why? Why are you so special that you don’t do girlfriends?”
“Because I don’t. It’s not my style. I don’t believe in love and shit.”
