long layers that fel halfway down her back. She never
tanned, so her dark eyeliner looked extrablack and the
fuck-me red lipstick even redder.
I looked in the mirror again, turning my chin to one side,
then the other, to catch my profile. My hair's blond. And
it's natural. My eyes are blue, but dark, almost navy. I
look a lot like my dad, which is one reason, maybe, why
he never bothered denying I was his.
"I think I look fine," I told her, but the faint sound of
longing slithered into my voice.
I spent my clothes budget on simple, brand-name pieces I
picked up off-season or in discount stores. I'd spent the
past few years building my wardrobe. Clothes for work
and casual wear that looked expensive enough to pass as
classy. I paired them with shoes I couldn't always afford. I
wasn't going to be Clarice Starling, giving away my
background with my good bag and my cheap shoes.
I looked again at my reflection and thought of the whisper
of satin on my skin. Going without a bra, how my nipples
would push at the fabric and force a man's eyes straight to
my breasts. Every man's eyes.
I picked up the tank top again and held it up. I smoothed
the fabric over my stomach. Kira gave me an approving
nod and slung an arm around my shoulders and bumped
me with her hip. "C'mon. You know you want to."
I did want to. I wanted to go out and get shit-hammered
drunk and dance and smoke and rub up on half a dozen
boys. I wanted to feel a hot, hard body against mine and
look for lust in a pair of eyes I didn't know.
I wanted not to worry about proving anyone right about
me.
I puled my tank top over my head and after a second's
hesitation, unhooked my bra. The satin tank top slithered
over my head and fel to my hips. My breasts swayed
under the smooth fabric. My nipples tightened at once, and
I shivered.
"Let me get you some makeup," Kira said.
She lugged her huge purse over to me and puled out pots
and tubes and brushes and glitter. I love glitter. I hadn't
worn glitter in forever, either. No place for it here, in my
new life.
"I'l do it." I wouldn't dream of sharing makeup that had
been on her face. No teling what germs could be passed
on that way. I waved her away and went into my
bathroom, where I rummaged beneath my sink.
I puled out my own box of tricks and treats. Lipsticks in
berry shades, eye shadows in rainbow hues. Lots and lots
of half-used black-eyeliner sticks and a few bottles of
liquid eyeliner. I shook one, thinking it must have dried up
after al these years, but when I unscrewed the cap with its
built-in brush, the makeup inside was stil smooth.
I painted a mask. It looked just like me, only brighter.
Bolder. More. Once, I'd worn this face every day. Once,
it had been the only one I had.
My makeup finished, I squeezed into the tight black skirt. I
left my legs bare. I'd be chily on the walk from the parking
garage to the bar, but hot enough inside once I started
dancing. From my closet I puled out a truly fucking
fabulous pair of pumps.
Kira had been bent over her phone, fingers stabbing out
messages, but her eyes widened and she reached for the
shoes. "Oh, wow. Steve Madden!"
"First pair I ever bought." I stroked the smooth black
patent leather. Four-inch heels. Most men couldn't have
told the difference between a Steve Madden shoe and a
Payless pump, but they looked twice when I wore them.
Sometimes more than twice.
I slipped into the shoes and stood, adjusting to the way my
center of balance shifted. My mother had taught me the art
of how to walk in heels this high. I used to raid her closet
as a kid and parade around the house in her shoes.
I smoothed the silky shirt over my bely and hips and
I smoothed the silky shirt over my bely and hips and
turned around to look at myself one last time in the mirror.
"Ready to go?"
"I guess so," Kira said sulenly. "Except now you look awesome and I look like shit."
"You look hot," I promised. What were friends for?
She was convinced, more because she wanted to believe it
than because I'd tried hard. "Okay, let's go get shit-
hammered!"
I saw him again, that dark-haired man. This time, he was
coming in as I was going out. We passed each other not
so much like two ships, as much as one ship passing while
the other crashes into an iceberg. I couldn't be offended
that his gaze slid over and past me, taking in the short skirt
and high heels without a second look. He had his head
down and was talking urgently into his cel phone. He
didn't have attention to spare me. And it wasn't his fault I
was trying so hard to pretend I wasn't looking back at him
that I ran into the edge of the door frame hard enough to
leave a bruise.
"Smooth move, Ex-Lax." Kira smirked. She hadn't even
"Smooth move, Ex-Lax." Kira smirked. She hadn't even
noticed it was the man from earlier that day. "Nice to see
you can hold your tequila."
I shrugged off the sting in my shoulder and didn't reply. His
sleeve had brushed my bare arm as he passed, and the
hairs on it al the way up to the back of my neck had stood
at that brief, simple touch. A slow, tumbling rol of
sensation centered in my bely.
He lived in my building.
Chapter 03
I shouldn't have been so surprised. I saw a lot of
Riverview Manor tenants at Miriam's shop, and in the
Morningstar Mocha, the coffee shop at the end of our
block. I ran into them in the post office and parking garage
and at the grocery store, too. Harrisburg's a smal city.
Even so, I couldn't shake the memory of those dark eyes,
that thick, dark hair. The brush of a shirtsleeve on my bare
skin. Fuck. I was horny, no two ways around it, and no
wonder. It had been ages since I'd had sex with anyone
but myself.
We had our choice of places downtown, but I wanted to
go to the Pharmacy. We took a cab since I wouldn't drive
after drinking, and the walk that was fine on a Sunday
afternoon in sweatpants would be too long to make at
night in heels…and shit-hammered.
The bar was packed, even for a Friday night. We pushed
through the crowd toward the bar, Kira leading. She
stopped abruptly and I ran into her. Someone ran into me.
Someone also grabbed my ass, but when I turned to see
who it was and possibly haul off and smack the shit out of
who it was and possibly haul off and smack the shit out of
them, al I could see was an ocean of possible culprits.
"Hey, Jack," Kira said, and I turned.
Shit. Jack had been the love of Kira's life our senior year, when he transferred in from another school. She'd plotted
and schemed for months to get him to ask her to the prom,
determined to get in his pants. It hadn't worked, so far as I
knew. I only knew that once Kira had keyed one of his
girlfriends' cars.
Kira didn't know Jack and I had fucked each other
senseless for about two months straight a few years ago. I
doubt either of us even cared anymore. But Kira would
have, so I tried to pul her away before things could get
ugly.
Besides, he wasn't alone. The woman with him had a beer
and she tipped it to her mouth, eyeing us with a smile. I
yanked Kira's elbow to pul her away.
"Ow," she said when the crowd closed behind us, cutting
off the view of him. "What did you do that for?"
"Don't cause trouble," I told her. "C'mon. Drinks."
"Don't cause trouble," I told her. "C'mon. Drinks."
"I wasn't going to cause trouble." She frowned and tossed
her hair, not caring she'd whacked some dude across the
face with it. He looked pissed. Not the way I wanted to
start the night.
"There wil be other guys here," I told her.
Kira just sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh,
I know that."
The Pharmacy was almost always a total sausage party—
three guys for every girl, easy, and al of them horny and
looking to hook up. Chivalry had nothing to do with them
puling out their walets and plying us with booze. It was al
about getting laid.
"Oh, look," Kira said from beside me. "Talk about
trouble."
She was right. Trouble with a capital T. I stood taler in my sexy shoes and lifted my chin, straightened my shoulders.
"Helo, Austin."
Once upon a time, Austin and I had fucked like tigers. I
was wiling to bet he stil had the scars. I did.
was wiling to bet he stil had the scars. I did.
"Paige." His hair was longer, but he had the same grin, the one that parted thighs like the Red Sea. He didn't look
surprised to see me.
Austin wore a blue-striped shirt and faded jeans that
hugged his ass just right and hung down, ragged, at the
hems. Jeans like that should be outlawed on men like
Austin. His buddy, some guy I didn't know, wore an
almost identical shirt, but with brown stripes. He didn't
look half as good.
Behind me, Kira dug her fingernails into the skin of my
elbow. It stung, and I shook her off. "How are you?"
"Good. I'm good." His eyes shifted to Kira and back to
me. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"Haven't been home," I said, though home to me now was
an apartment on Front Street, not a trailer or a rented
house in Lebanon.
"Yeah. I know. Hey, Kira. I made it."
My insides froze. I glared at her, but Kira gave me her
best dumb look. "What?"
best dumb look. "What?"
She'd told him we'd be here. I knew it. I could see it on
both their faces, their conspiracy, and I wondered how
he'd convinced her to tel him. I thought about walking out,
and the only reason I didn't was because he was looking at
me. Not her.
Kira saw it, too, and she gave me a narrow-eyed glare. I
wouldn't have put it past her to have set this up purely to
see the throw down between me and Austin, but I wasn't
going to do it. I was past those days. She ralied when
Austin's friend gave her a grin. It helped that he was cute.
Not as cute as Austin, but then realy, who was? Who had
ever been?
"What're you drinking?" Austin was already puling out his
walet to pay.
I wasn't going to turn down a free drink, not even from
him. "Margarita."
"I'l take a Slow, Comfortable Screw." Kira made sure to
lean in close so he could hear her. Her lips brushed his ear.
Austin leaned away a little, not enough that Kira would
notice. But I did. He introduced us both to his friend,
Ethan, who managed to tear his gaze away from Kira's tits
long enough to nod toward me without a trace of
recognition. Wel, what had I expected him to do? Say,
"Oh, so this is Paige?"
"So what are you up to now?" Austin asked me as Kira
and Ethan eyed each other.
"I work for Kely Printing." The last time we spoke I'd stil been finishing the degree I'd started when we were
together and taking care of some rich couple's kids. I
didn't ask him what he was doing, not for work and not
here in Harrisburg. I didn't want him to think I cared.
"What about your mom?" Austin moved closer, his arm on
the bar. "She stil working for Hershey? I haven't been to
the shop for a while."
My mom owns a tiny sandwich shop she inherited from
her dad when I was in high school. I'd worked in that shop
almost my entire life, running errands as a kid then
graduating to making subs and running the cash register.
Now I only helped if she had a big order to fil and deliver,
or a party to cater.
"She stil has it. She was working for Hershey but got laid
off."
Austin nodded. "I'm working for McClaron and Sons."
I had no idea who or what McClaron and Sons was, but
the fact he was working for someone other than his dad
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