She blinks up at me, studying my face.
“Still not a date,” she whispers.
Good. Because if it were? That would mean I have something to lose.
I grin. “Hell no.”
She rolls her eyes and gets out of the car. But she’s smiling. She grabs her bag and heads toward her brother’s house, just across the hedge and fence.
I sit there a minute longer. My heart’s pounding. My brain’s buzzing. My lips are still tingling.
All I can think is, God, I’m so screwed.
I think I might have the beginnings of a crush on my best friend’s little sister. If I’m not careful, she’s going to become someone I can’t afford to lose.
What do I do about it, though?
thirteen
WREN
After all the ice skating,I’m exhausted. Even if I got all amped up from kissing Ryan and practically skipped up to the spare bedroom. By the time I’ve changed into pajamas and my head finally hits the pillow, I’m out cold.
When I wake up the next morning, it’s on the late side. The clock says twelve past ten. I shuffle to the bathroom, then lock my bedroom door and climb straight back into bed.
I touch myself while thinking of Ryan.
It doesn’t take long. My fingers know exactly where to go. My brain is full of him. His mouth, his hands, the way he saidlittle girllike he was tasting the words. I come fast and hard, biting my lip to stay quiet. But I don’t stop there. I do it again. Then again.
Three times. Because I’m greedy. Greedy for him.
It’s not just sex. It’s the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me. That’s what wrecks me. That’s what I can’t stop replaying. It felt like he wanted me. Me. But that can’t be real, right?
Why I think that arrogant, smug asshole is a good thing to fantasize about, I don’t know. I have no explanation for it. If anyone knew—Jay, the girls on set, Ryan himself. I think I’ddissolve into a puddle of humiliation. He can never know. No one can.
I think about what Elena said to me when she pulled me aside at the end of the night last night.Be memorable or be gone.Every single move I make now feels like it might be the one that gets me fired.
It certainly makes staying in bed much more appealing.
When I finally emerge from my bedroom at noon, Jay and Calla have deserted the house and left me to figure out my own schedule.
That works for me, honestly.
I climb back into bed and spend the rest of the early afternoon watchingBob’s Burgersreruns. It’s nice to just veg out. No eyes on me. No pretending. Just stillness. This is the only time I feel like I get to exist without performing. No microphones, no dates, no pretending. Just a blanket, cartoons, and the satisfying ache between my legs.
Eventually, I drag myself into the shower. Afterward, I dry my hair and quietly tuck away Ryan’s special jersey. The one I stole a few years ago, the soft one he never lets anyone touch. Into the bottom of my bag like it’s contraband.
It smells like him, like cedar and mint and a hint of whatever cologne he’s always worn. I used to curl up in it at night and pretend he’d given it to me. Now it feels dangerous to keep.
I change into a black crop top with The Kills scrawled across the front in pink, then pull on a stretchy pair of black leggings that sit high on my waist. I crown the look with my black Converse and my same coat.
I feel… hot. All this time, I thought you had to feel powerful to wear clothes like this. But in actuality, wearing these clothes gives me a weird, heady sense of power.
Like, for once, I can be the one who turns heads and breaks hearts.
Ta-da. Time to go try out my new outfit on a soft, receptive audience. I am ready to hang out with my big brother.
It’s Saturday night. I already know what Jay’s plans are. He’s always at the Tin Shed Pub on Saturdays for trivia. I try to join him as much as possible.
