Page 140 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“Stay out of trouble.” She blows a kiss and ends the call.
I cut a bite of steak and consider what Frankie’s said about making Piper my ally. I picture her watching water drip down my chest, and heat follows the trail her eyes shaped. My hand goes to the spot on my cheek she touched, then to my hair.
Piper won’t get away with turning my hair purple. I’ve already planned my next attack. I planned it after she threatened me this morning, before she did this to my hair. It’s too late to stop now.
Just because I refused to be Dad’s foot soldier doesn’t mean I want Piper around. In two weeks, either she’ll be gone, or I will.
That’s very much what I want…Piper out of my life forever.
Even if—and I’ll never admit this out loud—I can’t stop thinking that if being in the same room with her makes me feel more alive, what would kissing her do to me?
Chapter 15
Piper
My alarm buzzes at six am, the same way it does every day, but for whatever reason, I’m more exhausted than usual this morning. I peek one eye out from under my sleep mask long enough to find my phone in the dim light and shut off the alarm.
The next thing I know, someone is pounding at the door. I gasp, realizing I’ve fallen back asleep, and yank off my mask. Morning sun streams through the window, and I bolt upright, blinking at the brightness.
Between blinks, I see someone hovering over my bed. I scream and scramble to the opposite side of the mattress, where I drop to the floor and curl my knees into my chest. My heart pounds hard enough to hit my thighs as I wrap myself in a protective ball, preparing to be attacked.
When the only movement or sound I hear is loud laughing coming from the other side of the door, I uncurl my body and risk peeking across my bed.
It takes a few seconds for my brain to process that the form opposite me is just that—a dress form. A picture of Archie’s face is stuck to the top, and it’s wearing what must be his clothes. I press my hand to my heart and slow my breathing beforestanding. I narrow my eyes at the form and debate whether to walk to it first or open the door to face Archie, who’s still laughing.
The last remnants of fright slip away, and my thoughts clear. I choose the fake Archie. He’s a thousand times less annoying than the real one and will be a million times more useful.
I take a deep breath and force a smile, hoping pretending to be happy will make my voice sound normal. “Thank you for this, Archie!” I call brightly toward the door. “I left my dress form behind in New York with my friends, Christian and Gwen. You’ve saved me a trip downtown to the fashion district to get a new one.”
I’m still a little shaky from the scare, but I’m being sincere.
Thirty seconds of complete terror is totally worth the hours and trouble of riding the bus downtown, lugging a full-size mannequin through Skid Row back to the bus stop, then getting it all the way back here.
I’m about to tear Archie’s face off the form when a better idea comes to me. I go to my closet—because, yes, I’ve unpacked. I’mnotleaving—and find my fuzzy purple scarf. I won’t need it in California, but I’ve got the perfect job for it until I’m ready to use this form for my own designs.
I wind the scarf above Archie’s picture, then wheel the form to my bedroom door and fling it open. As I’d hoped, Archie is still in the hallway, a cocky grin on his face that falters when he sees me. His eyes drop and my gaze follows his to the silky cami and shorts I’d forgotten I wore to bed. I’m millimeters away from inadvertently joining the Free the Nipple movement.
I quickly push the fake Archie in front of me and poke my head from behind it.
“Thanks again for the gift.”
“You’re wel—” His snarky smile disappears as his eyes snag on the scarf. His hand flies to his hair but drops before he touches it.
He turns his glare on me. “Shouldn’t you be headed to your bus stop?”
“What time is it?” Panicked, I turn around to check the alarm clock I specifically bought because it was louder than my phone alarm. I yelp when I see 7:00. “I’m going to be late!”
I dash to my dresser and yank clean panties and a bra from the top drawer. Archie’s still at the door, staring with what could be a touch of concern on his face.
But I don’t have time to think about that. I don’t even have time to shower. “Get out of here! I have to get dressed!”
I slam the door and dash to my closet. Within fifteen minutes, I’m dressed and have my hair pulled up in a clip. Full make-up will take too long, so I dab a little color on my cheeks and lips. As a final touch, because I haven’t showered, I spritz my favorite, special-occasions-only perfume on my wrists, then walk through a second spritz.
As I step into the cloud of perfume, I’m blindsided with the scent of garlic instead of the touch of citrus I’d expected. I sniff again, and yep, it’s garlic.
Panic rises again, and I sniff both my wrists. The smell is strong enough to bring tears to my eyes. I’m in no danger of being attacked by vampires today.
“ARCHIE!” I scream and run for the hallway.
