Page 28 of Make Me Pretty
“Wow,” Elise breathes, handing the photo back to me. I take it stiffly, avoiding her gaze as I shove it back in my bag before letting it fall back to the floor with a dull thud. Peris shoves away from the table, the legs of his chair screeching obnoxiously across the tile.
“Peris? What’s wrong?” Elise asks at his sudden outburst. His lips part, but no sound comes out. His eyes dart between me and his mom, the truth poised on the tip of his tongue but remains stuck.
With a sigh of defeat, he sighs. “Nothing.” His fingers card through his hair. Elise reaches out and grips his wrist as he slowly drops back down.
“I know this can be hard, but it’s important for us to be supportive right now,” she says softer, but I can still hear. I’vegotten good at straining my ears over the years. Listening isnecessary for survival.
“It’s okay,” I say easily, talking over both of them as I shovel more food in my mouth. Sauce clings to my lips, and my tongue makes a slow drag over my flesh to lick it up.
Peris doesn’t eat anymore, and the rest of the meal drags slowly until the trance is broken when Elise announces she has to leave for work.
The second her back is turned, Peris pushes away from the table and shoots to his feet once more. I lean over the smooth, stone surface, garnering his attention. His eyes widen before they narrow into unsteady slits. “Sitdown,” he hisses, gaze flicking toward his mom at the sink, rinsing off her dishes.
I shake my head, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. My hair brushes back and forth across my face, a flash of white between color. “Maybe if you asknicely,” I drawl.
He glares down at me out of the corner of his eye, dark lashes fanning his sharp cheekbones, hands flexed into fists at his sides.They tremble.
After a beat, he leans down, caging me in his arms as he places one against the tabletop and the other on the back of my chair. He speaks low, words only meant for us. “I’m fucking done being nice.” His breath is warm breath against my lips, and I can taste him on my tongue. “Stay the fuck away from me, Abel.Please,” he rasps, surprisingly soft. I feel his intent. The all-consuming wrath he’s trying to push out. But underneath it is the terror. The fear that I’ll make himbreak.
“Or I will fucking kill you.”
I smile. A small, fragile thing just for him, even as my heart jackknifes against bone. Blood rushes in my ears. Sweat licks across my forehead. “Promise me you’ll make good on that threat.” I flick my tongue out; grateful my back is to his mother so she can’t see a thing shared between us.
His Adam’s apple bobs, but then a smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. It’s leery, a bit manic, and it makes my skin crawl pleasantly.
CHAPTER 8
PERIS
I made it twenty-four hours.
One fucking day.
And now, I think I’ll wring his little neck.
“Don’t fucking walk away from me!” I bark as Abel rounds the corner, disappearing down the hallway. The heavy thump of his pinkfuckingshoes over the carpet tells me he’s making a beeline for his room.
Typical of the little brat after toying with me all damn night. Again and again and again. Day after day. For weeks.
Months.
Feels like an endless cycle of forever, and I’msick of it.Of him. Of this supposedpowerhe thinks he has over me. I’m gonna make sure he knows he doesn’t haveshit.
Even if he does.
I catch up to him just as he reaches his bedroom door. My fingers clamp down on his shoulder, yanking him back and forcing him against the wall. His head smacks into the drywall, and his darkened lashes flutter, drawing me in closer. The closest we’ve ever been.
My breath hitches, sharp and heavy, as my upper half curls instinctively around him, accommodating our size difference.The smallest flicker of hesitation in Abel’s eyes pulls out a spike of pained pleasure in the form of a hiss.
With my chest against him, his chin digs into the contracted muscles just below my clavicle. It’s a sharp pinprick—his touch, his skin burning with heat.
It's suffocating.
I’m suffocating. But it’s not enough.
My skin repels touch, blood simmering but yearning for more.
And Abel doesn’t seeanythingbut his own selfish fucking impulses. “Oh, so because you know I’m eighteen now, you’ll fucking touch me? And I’ll walk away from whoever the fuck I want,” he spits out, chin raised indignantly as he presses his hands to the wall at his back, fingernails scratching along the drywall.
