Page 120 of Little Sunshine

My petulant decision not to tell him in retaliation for his bossiness seemed even stupider.

“Now what the hell was all that shit about the dress?”

Oh. Right. He had excuses for two things, but there’s still more.

Too afraid to believe him—of being burned for the countless time—I fought to reinforce the remaining cards. “You bought me dresses.”

“And?”

That’s a fair rebuttal ’cause when I say it like that, it’s not exactly the crime of the century.

“And I don’t want you to buy me anything,” I said.

“I told you this when you said you didn’t want me doing things for you, but I’ll say it again. Get over it.”

“You can’t just tell me to get over it or get used to it.”

“Yeah, I can.” He lifted the hem. “You don’t like them?”

“That’s not the point. You’ve already done enough for me. Too much. You shouldn’t be buying me anything just because my clothes don’t meet your standard or whatever.”

“I’ll buy you whatever I want, but it has jack shit to do with my opinion on your clothes. I don’t care what you wear.” His expression softened, and I hated it even before he gently said, “Baby, your hoodie had blood stains. Tried to get them out, but it didn’t work. I asked Juliet for something you could wear to Sunrise since I didn’t think you wanted to go in pajamas. I saw how much you liked that dress and had her send more over.”

“I’m wearing Juliet’s clothes?”

The majority of my clothes were preowned. I very rarely bought new. I’d had a lifetime of hand-me-downs. I was used to it. But something about wearing one of her dresses in front of the beautiful and glamorous Juliet was mortifying.

Well, I can never see her again.

That sucks.

“You’re wearing clothes she made that I bought from her,” he said slowly, like it was something I should know.

“Wait, what?”

“Juliet designs and makes clothes. She didn’t tell you?”

No, because I’m a shitty fledgling friend who didn’t ask much since I was too scared to answer questions.

That explains why our dresses looked similar yesterday and why the fabric on her cover-up was familiar.

There was a skirt in the closet with the same one.

That it wasn’t a pity donation made me feel a lot better. But something else regarding Juliet had been lurking in my head that I hadn’t asked. I hadn’t wanted to know. But I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You chased her?”

Ash didn’t need an explanation or even blink. “Not in the way you mean. Not in the way I just chased you, desperate to have you and fuck you. Maximo chased her. The three of us helped for him.”

That was enough to blow down the last of my laughable house of cards.

My heart wanted to soar, but a lifetime of… well, my life kept it weighed firmly down. The cringy memory of me silently pleading for him to kiss me was front and center in my mind as I eyed him skeptically. My voice was barely above a whisper, like even it was too afraid the bubble would burst. “I don’t get how you want me all of a sudden. What changed?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to rewind time and swallow them back down. If that wasn’t an option, I’d settle for the earth opening up to swallow me.

I hated sounding insecure and needy. Even worse, I hated that I was insecure and needy. I wanted to be effortlessly confident. As aloof and uncaring as my defenses usually allowed me to be.

Before I could tell him to forget I asked or smother myself—or maybe him—out of embarrassment, Ash tilted his head. “That’s a good segue into our next discussion.”

Uh-oh.

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