Page 98 of Make Me Pretty
They pool around his ankles at the release of the string, baring flesh. I step back, even as Abel struggles. And I’ll give the runt credit; he’s a lot stronger than he looks, but the sight of those bright red smiley burns brings out a whole new brand of strength I didn’t know I possessed.
My arm crushes his larynx, making him gag. His nails score my flesh, but I don’t feel the sting. Or his feet as they kick me. Or his loss of breath.
And then…
He fucking slaps me.
My head whips to the side, and I’m stuck on stupid long enough for him to scramble away, hands clutching my too-big pants as he rushes out of the bathroom, bare feet thundering down the hall before fading away.
I cup my cheek, smirking at the warmth radiating. It’s… disorienting. Being so pissed off I feel like I could strangle him to death while also being so fucking hard, my junk aches.
I scratch at my chin, rubbing back and forth over my index finger as I stand, in the dark, alone.
At least there’s never a dull moment with Abel around.
“Feisty little pup,” I muse to myself. It fits so well with his oscillating behavior, but I can never just… get a fuckinggripon him.
What happened that made him… that made him want to… do that?
“Peris, get your ass out here!” I jolt, swallowing the pressure in my throat.
“Coming!” I bend down and swipe up Abel’s lighter, pocketing it for later. Because if he thinks the fucking conversation is over, he’s going to have a rude awakening when Ma leaves for work.
He can’t run from me then.
I won’t let him run at all anymore.
Feeling appeased for the moment, I saunter into the kitchen with a smirk and plop down in my chair. Both pairs of eyes are on me, but I pay them no mind as I shovel food into my mouth.
“Damn, this is good.” I nod while chewing, cheeks puffed out. Mom swats my arm.
“Manners, Peris. I taught you better than that.”
I shrug and gulp my soda, eyes pinned on Abel’s as I say, “Abel’s rubbing off on me, I guess.” His eyes shoot open wide, lips parting at my blatant innuendo. I wink as I take another bite.
Mom’s none the wiser.
“Peris,” he mouths—a warning I promptly ignore.
Tapping my fork on the rim of my bow, I ask, “So, when ya leaving for work?”
“Why? Ready to get rid of me?”
“Yep. Can’t kick Abel’s ass when you’re here.” My tone is light. Fun.Teasing.
Abel’s throat rolls with a gulp. He still hasn’t touched his food.
“Haha,” she deadpans. I smile as I shovel more in, feeling so much better as time ticks down to having Abel all to myself. To finally getting some answers out of him.
“Abel, aren’t you—” I’m cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Ma and I exchange a glance, both of us confused, before we turn to Abel. His eyes bounce between us, and then, he shrugs.
“Well, I guess I’ll get that.” I push away from the table to answer the door, eyes darting to the clock on my way out.
“Who the fuck is showing up at six o’clock on a Saturday?” I mutter to myself as I twist the knob, irritated I have to deal withpeopleright now.
Two is more than enough for my current state of mind. That being all things Abel Silver.
“Can I help you?” I ask as I stare at two people I’ve never fucking seen a day in my life, ne of which is a taller guy with a shiny, bald head and muscles for days, dressed head to toe in some variance of black. The other is a woman, short with bright, blonde hair and a weathered face.
