DAISY
Some people just need a high five. In the face. With a bullet.
You’re going to love what I’ve done with the place,” Michelle says as we hop onto one of the subway cars and grab seats near the doors. Her voice lowers in deference to the people milling about. “I put all of the plants in the loft, and I hope you don’t mind, but I took over your room—it’s easier to get to when I’m tired at night.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind,” I say. “If you want, we can swap completely when I move back in.”
Michelle tilts her head to the side as her brows draw together. “What do you mean, ‘move back in’?”
I laugh, but the sound is hollow even to my own ears, and my chest tightens before I say the words in my mind. “I mean, this isn’t forever,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Itcan’tbe. Giulio will figure out just how odd I am, and once he’s convinced his family he tried, he’ll boot me out. Besides, it’s not like we’re a real couple.”
“Hetoldyou this?” Michelle gapes at me.
“Well, not exactly…” In fact, he said that he didn’t intend to divorce me, but I assume that means he’d rather just kick me out or kill me than have to go through the legal hassle. I doubt he’ll continue to want me around when he gets to know me better. After all, my college therapist said that I had something called avoidant attachment problems or something like that. A lot of foster kids come out of the system with some form of trust issues. The only one to break through it all has been Michelle.
“Besides,” I continue, forcing a chuckle that seems to stick in my throat, “Giulio is handsome and suave and put together. I’m weird.” I also get too excitable. I don’t think things through, and when I get mad—Ireallyget mad. Thankfully, though, that doesn’t happen too often anymore.
The car rattles around us, and the scents of weed and body odor permeate the space, making me feel incredibly closed in. Just a few weeks ago, riding the subway felt normal—nothing different about being in an enclosed space with a bunch of strangers. Now, though, I feel as though there are eyes all over me, crawling across my skin and making my stomach clench with unease.
“I think you’re selling yourself short, babe,” Michelle says.
I blink and swivel my head away from the light-skinned guy with a hat hanging low over his face and his jacket collar popped in the corner of the car. “Huh?”
“About you and Giulio,” she clarifies.
Oh, right.I shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t see why we would stay together. He’s…”Rich and I’m poor?That feels too cliché of a reason, but it’s one that makes sense. Then, there’s the factthat he’s a criminal, and he didn’t want to marry in the first place—much less a penniless recent college grad.
That guy in the corner turns, catching my attention again. I frown as he ambles past us and then takes a seat across the car several places down from us. Despite his lax body language and the way he spreads his legs—ugh, fucking manspreaders—like he owns the damn place, something is off about him. I just can’t place why.
“Daisy, don’t you think this is the universe giving you a chance?”
I return my attention to Michelle. “The universe?”
She nods emphatically. “It’s a very unique situation, and you’ve never dated seriously before. Why not give this guy a chance? What could it hurt?”
Mean Daisy pops her head out and gives Michelle the stink eye, her upper lip curling back in disgust.
What could it hurt?
The answer is everything.
Images of Ginny, one of my foster sisters—the only one I ever liked because she wasn’t a thief or bully—come to mind. My chest aches as the memory of her long curling locks and freckled face. The softness of her features morphs into that of a face leached of color with deep lines of red winding up her forearms as streaks of tears, long since dried, turn her soft, brown skin pasty gray.
In my mind’s eye, I recall the way I found her. Mouth gaping open, blood half dried on her arms. Her heartbeat long since gone. I stood in the doorway to her bedroom, silent. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just stared at her, and for the first time, I felt a rage I hadn’t known was possible.
None of the unnecessary pinches or slaps from controlling adults or the taunts and jeers from equally cruel classmates had ever angered me. For Ginny, though, I felt wrathful. I felt as if I could do anything—even find the boy who had broken her heart and flay him open with a rusty knife. I liked that thought. Wanted to do it.
I slap the memory and inner Daisy back into submission with a shake of my head.No!I scream mentally. I’m better now. I don’t need to do anything. I have no reason to feel angry. Returning my attention to Michelle, I force a light smile into place.
“I just don’t think it’ll work out,” I tell her. Powerful rich guys never go for girls like me. Ginny taught me that. It’s useless to expect anything more than the right here and now. “I’m sure I’ll be moved back into our apartment within the year, but I plan to make that year count.” I offer Michelle a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “I plan to use this time to see if I can’t break into the publishing industry.” The rent is paid for the next year. Which means she only needs to work enough to pay utilities, and the rest of her time can be spent trying to get into her own industry.
“You should do the same,” I tell her, “and if I can, I’ll try to give you some extra money for the rest of the bills.”
Her fingers wave through the air in front of me in an off-handed gesture. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “Having the rent paid is more than enough. Tell your new hubby I said thanks, by the way.”
I roll my eyes but laugh with her as the subway car slows to a shrieking stop. I start to stand as many others in the car get up and shuffle for the doors, waiting for them to slide open andrelease us from the stiff confines of the enclosed space. One of those “others” is the man with the ball cap drawn down low over his face and the popped collar. Ick. He’s giving me hardcore “up to something” vibes.
Without telling her why, the second the doors slide open, I grab Michelle’s hand and yank her from the car, heading toward the exit stairs at a run. “Jesus! Daisy, what the hell?” Our bodies collide with several others as I push people out of the way and drag her behind me. Voices shout back at us, cursing as I rudely run through them on my way out.
