Page 97 of Make Me Pretty
“Jeez, where’d you go?” she asks with a laugh, carrying the pot to the sink to strain it.
I squeeze my nape before yanking on my hair. She catches the gesture, so I drop my hands. So now, I feel fucking awkward, but it’s better than showing my tells.
Why the fuck does everyone read me so well?
Am I as transparent as a fucking plate glass?
“Tired,” I mutter pathetically.
“Uh-huh…”
“Are we gonna finish this food or what? I’m starving.” And like my stomach knows I need to put on a show, it rumbles loud enough to be heard. Mom tosses her head back with a laugh that makes my chest ache.
She’s been so happy since Abel showed up, and I’m fuckingruining it.
Forever selfish.
“All right, all right.” She dumps a few things before grabbing Abel’s bowl of spinach. “Grab the cheese, babe?”
“Sure,” Abel and I both say at the same time. And then, we laugh in sync, and it’s… not bad.
I back off, letting him grab the parmesan while I pull out bowls. Ma fills them up and hands them back to me so I can set the table. It’s not until I’ve finished and Mom is grabbing glasses for drinks that I notice Abel has disappeared.
I step into the living room and peer over the sofa, but he’s not there. Frowning, I trudge down the darkened hallway, the sliver of light radiating from beneath the bathroom door guiding my way.
My knuckles rap on the door. “Dinner’s done.” There’s a clank, followed by a clatter, and then, a curse.
“Shit.” A hiss reaches by ears, then he says, “Yeah, okay. I-I’ll be out in a minute.” My eyes narrow, and I press my ear to the door, but it’s eerily quiet now apart from my breath. I try the handle, but it doesn’t budge. Just as I make the decision to storm into the kitchen to grab something to pop it open, it flies open.
I stumble over the threshold and ram right into an unsuspecting Abel. He yelps as we collide, and something flies from his fingers in a flash of pink before clattering to the floor.
I stare down at the lighter, cast in shadows but still so fuckingbright.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, barely more than a whisper.
“A lighter,” Abel snarks.Defensive once more.
My molars snap together andgrind.I step forward, backing him into the room. When we’re in the dark, I kick the door shut behind us, covering us in the darkness, my heart hammering and radiating down both my arms.
“Peris,” he grates, hand fisted at his sides. And I want to laugh. I want to laugh so loud, it burns my throat and sends the roof collapsing in on us.
That would feel better than… than whatever the fuck this churning, achingheatinside me is.
My hands vibrate as I flip the light switch. Abel winces under the flood of light, but I don’t even blink. All I see is him and that fucking flush to his cheekbones. The beads of perspiration dampening his hair around his scalp. The char on his goddamn thumb when I bring it closer with a grip that grinds his bones.
“Show me.”
He balks. “Excuse me?”
“You fucking heard me, Abel. I want to see.”
“W-why?” he stutters.
I frown. I don’t like that question. The peek of fresh bruises just below his collar has me moving before I can really think of the consequences. Abel’s back slams into the wall so hard, he grunts.
“What’s going on?” Ma calls, her voice a whisper of clarityI don’t wantright now.
“Be out in a sec!” I call before pinning Abel in place with my forearm as I reach down to drop his pants—my pants.
