Page 25 of Tempt Me

“Bella!” My mom’s voice is sharp as she joins us in the living room. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.” Jesus. My head pounds with each beat of my heart. This is why I didn’t tell them that Brock was contacting me and giving me a hard time. I didn’t want all of this.

“That’s not what Dominic said.”

“Dominic? What does Dominic have to do with this?” My mom’s eyes narrow into slits as she rests her hands on her hips. “Is he friends with that guy?”

“No, Mom, Dominic isn’t friends with Brock.”

“Then how did he find out?” She clutches her chest. “Are you dating Dominic?”

“For God’s sake, Mom, stop will all the dramatics. I’m not dating Dominic.” I slide out from under Sam’s arm. “I told Dominic about it a couple of weeks ago, but it’s not a big deal.” I snatch up two empty plates and march into the kitchen with my entourage following behind me.

“What was he saying?” Sam pops his knuckles.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but….” I spin around and glare at my brother. “Brock wanted to get back together.”

“No.” My mom’s eyes flare with anger as her face tinges a darker pink. “That boy was trouble from the beginning. I don’t know what you saw in him. You best have turned him down.”

What did I see in him? He wasn’t Dominic, and he asked me out. Yeah, that’s pathetic. But that’s what happened.

I was stuck on Dominic and got tired of seeing him going out with other girls. Not that there were a lot of them or that they lasted over a date or two, but he wasn’t giving me the time of day. And Brock did.

Until I wouldn’t put out, and then he got angry. After several dates, I relented but wished I hadn’t done so. It put the anti- into anticlimactic. Poking. Prodding. Grinding.Short-lived. No foreplay. And the most obnoxious orgasm face imageable.

Not on me. Even if he'd been remotely concerned about my experience, he’d have needed a map and a compass to find my clit. He found my G spot, but he almost stabbed it to death. We dated a couple of months after that debacle because I was too depressed to break it off. Then, he cheated on me. Multiple times.

“Yes, Mother, I turned him down. Dominic happened to be standing next to me when Brock contacted me. Then Dominic got me a replacement phone on his plan and so far, Brock’s not contacted me again.”

“Ah….” Now she’s clutching her chest and swooning like she’s watching videos of puppies playing with babies who’re watching river otters frolic in the water. “I’ve always said he was a sweet boy.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Why aren’t you dating someone like him? Some nice boy with a good job who respects women and would carry groceries for the elderly?”

“Please.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dominic isn’t ever going to date Bella. She’s like his cute little sister. The pesky one with the freckles on her nose and painted fingernails.”

“Kiss my ass.” I stomp to the kitchen, grabbing more dishes on my way while not caring if they make clattering sounds in the process.

“Besides, Bella here is a prissy, goodie-two-shoes. She still lives at home. She wears long sweaters, carries a Prada handbag, and straightens her hair. She never leaves the house after 10 o’clock and would clutch her pearls if a man with tattoos asked to touch her pristine body.”

“You’re an asshole.” I drop the dishes in the sink, grab my purse off the hook, it’s a knockoff Prada, thank you very much, and slam the door behind me. I hate being smothered. Maybe when I was a kid, I liked it. I was the youngest and the only girl. But now…. It’s ridiculous.

Even worse? My brother is right. I’ve spent so long being a good girl that I don’t know who I am. Do I like curly hair? Do I want to be an accountant? What about the clothes I wear? I study my feet. Sensible heels. Polished and in mint condition. Paired with those stupid painted fingernails. Nude-painted fingernails so that they go unnoticed.

What if I want to do something bold and stand out? What if I colored my hair blue and got a nose ring? What if I dropped out of college and went full-time to Cosmetology school? What if I did all that and propositioned Dominic? Would that get his attention?

Heat floods my face. I can’t do any of those things. I don’t have the balls to do it. Do I?

I slide into my serviceable car and adjust the mirror, catching my reflection. I’m plain. Boring. Predictable. Maybe Dominic will never notice me, but someone else might if I change into the new me. I tap my fingertips on the steering wheel. What’s the new me?

Two seconds later, I snatch up my phone and hover my finger over Ruby’s image. No. I drop my phone on the passenger seat. That’s not the answer. I’m the answer.

What do I want? What symbolizes me?

A new haircut? Definitely. That’s long overdue. Color and highlights? I lift a strand of hair. Yes, definitely needed. Newclothes? Yes. Absolutely. I’m going to be a cosmetology student, for God’s sakes. I can’t be a mousy dark blonde and instill any confidence that I can make someone else beautiful.

Stylist with a Twist. A smile curves up my face. I’ve always wanted to go there, but Brock said it was a stupid waste of money. After telling me I was too dumpy for them to work with.

I straighten my back, pressing my shoulder blades into the cushions. He was wrong. He said those things to put me down because I wouldn’t have sex with him. And to keep me from thinking I could get someone else. He wanted me to worship him because he dated down.

Well, Brock isn’t here and today is about me. I’m getting a makeover.

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