Page 16 of Trusting Skulls

He sits down on the edge of the bed after placing the tray over my lap. “Because they care about you. They don’t want to give you bad news and not be here to get you through it.”

“They already told me. Honestly, I’m not really that surprised. My parents just don’t understand you guys.”

This makes him laugh. “And you do?”

“No, but I know you’d never steal fromtheirhome.”

“Lexie, I think it’s sweet that you don’t understand why they don’t like us.” He shakes his head sadly. “They don’t deserve you, you know that?”

“If you’ll take me home, I could explain it to them,” I argue.

“I could. But wouldn’t we have to schedule an appointment with them first?”

“They’re just really busy. They work hard. It’s for me, you know? They’ve always made sure I’ve had everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“But what you really want is something that can’t be bought, can it?” His gaze bounces over my face as I take a bite of my pancakes.

“I really don’t know what that would be. I’ve never wanted for anything.”

“Why do you let everyone take from you?”

My hand trembles as I reach for my orange juice. I’m suddenly having a hard time swallowing.

“Oh, shoot! I should have asked Jackson to stop and grab my makeup.”

“Are you trying to avoid my question?”

Yes and no. “I’m not avoiding anything,” I tell him.

When he doesn’t respond, I continue.

“Listen, I’m used to the way my parents are. I don’t do all of the stupid shit I do because of them. I’m … I’m just not very smart. Okay? And none of that has anything to do with my need for makeup. Maybe they can turn around and get it for me.”

“You’d really have them turn around for it?”

“Yes.”

His eyebrow rises. “You really don’t like the idea of people seeing you without it. You’re hiding behind it.”

“I like to look my best.”

“Different not best,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes.

I sigh. He’s a guy, so of course he doesn’t understand.

“New rule. No makeup.”

My head pulls back in horror. “That can’t be a rule.”

“Sure can.” He stands, the conversation over. “I’ll holler when the guys get here. You can bring your breakfast tray down then.”

My mouth falls open. I don’t have time to think about my parents right now. I just want my makeup. I wish I would have been awake when they packed my shit. That would have been the first thing I would have brought, along with my curling iron.

Oh my god! My curling iron.

I push the tray aside and grab my suitcase. Fuck! It’s not here either. I’m not going to survive. If I ask for one, Dirk will ban that too. What else can go wrong?

My anger builds as the clock ticks by. I sit at the vanity, trying my best to scrunch some life into my hair. It’s hopeless. Between limp hair, the dark circles under my eyes, and the hollowness of my cheeks, I look like I have one foot in the grave.

---