“Amazing,” she says, reaching for the curling iron. “He’s so dreamy, Millie. So different. Like genuinely different. He makes sure I eat, texts me between classes, kisses my head and tells me he’s already falling in love with me.”
I smile. “That’s sweet.”
“It’s more than sweet. It’s—okay, don’t laugh.” She points the curling iron at me. “He remembered I mentioned this little bookshop I loved when I was little. It’s not far from here and yesterday he took me for a drive and bought mesixteenbooks!”
“Sounds like he knows the way to your heart.”
“That he does.” She wraps a curl around the iron and sighs. “I think I’m falling too. Not just because of the books and out-of-this-world sex, but because he’s the kind of person who makes me feel interesting. Important, you know?”
“I’m happy for you, Abby. You deserve a good guy.”
“So do you,” she pipes in. “How are things with the guy who—” She jabs her fists into her sides, implying bruises. “Are youstill seeing him?”
“Kind of.”
Her brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“That it’s complicated.”
She scrunches her nose at my dismissive tone but drops the subject, focusing on her hair.
What Abby said about Thomas is kind of how I feel with Creed. When his eyes are on me, I feel important, interesting, not the broken girl everyone handles with kid gloves.
What we have is amazing and terrifying in equal measure because I don’t really know what it is. There’s no name for it and the longer we sneak around in the dark, the more I wish we could just exist in the light.
For now, we’re in limbo. Growing closer while keeping a distance. I know he wants me, it’s in every touch of his hands, every kiss, every breathless moment, but I don’t know if that’s all he wants or if, like me, he wants more.
I could ask. Demand a label, but I’m scared because I’m not sure I’d survive the wrong answer.
“Okay.” Abby drops the iron and runs her finger through her curls, shaking them out. “I’m ready. What about you?”
“I’m ready, too.”
Rolling her tongue over her top teeth, she plops down on her bed, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Listen, I know we’re not exactly besties, but I like you, Millie. I notice things, you know? I don’t know what happened to you, but...”
She pauses, either unsure whether she should continue or expecting me to cut in.
I don’t.
“Sometimes, when you see me wearing a nice dress, you get that look in your eyes like you’re remembering different times, so...” She gets up and opens her closet. “If you want to try a different look tonight, be my guest.”
My lips part, but Abby holds her hand up, shaking her head, a smile playing across her red-stained lips. “I’ll see you later?”
Probably not, given the crowd I remember from last time, but I nod, watching her grab her jacket and leave.
Her playlist cuts off moments later and I pair my phone with the speaker, ignoring the open closet. “Frozen Lake” by VOILÁ starts and I drag my palms down my leggings, Dr. Quinn’s words echoing inside my skull.
I jump from the bed and rush across the room, my heart thudding a little faster as my eyes land on a dress I would’ve chosen a year ago.
Dark denim with sharp tailoring, a cinched waist, and a row of buttons down the front. It’s mid-thigh length, not too short, but more revealing than anything I’ve worn since the incident.
Pinching the hem of my sweater, I squirm. It wouldn’t hurt to try it on, right? I can take it off if I don’t like it... Yes, I can take it off. I grab the dress, fingers curling into the fabric as I enter the bathroom.
My arms break out in goosebumps once I’ve pulled the sweater over my head and stepped out of my leggings. I stare at my reflection, not far off, changing my mind. It’sscary how much damage one person can cause.
You don’t have the body type for that cut.
“Fuck you, Evan,” I spit out, shrugging the dress on and working up the buttons with trembling fingers. “You weren’t so perfect yourself.”
