Page 55 of Painted Scars
“Nothing.” Harper’s poker face is legendary, but the twitch of her lip is a billboard screaming she’s getting lucky.
Charlie aims for innocent but comes out as a good girl gone bad. “We’re just happy for you.”
Uh-huh. Sorry, I don’t believe either of them. “You two are hiding something. Got stalkers of your own?”
Someone new enters the restaurant, and it sets off her nervous tick. She tugs at the hem of her denim jacket as if stretching it longer and safer. Her blue dress is soft and pretty, more suited to a dinner party than a bass-thumping warzone.
I clasp her hand and stop her from tugging, continuing my story to sidetrack her. “He calls me Glitter Bomb.”
Harper chuckles darkly. “That’s perfect. You’re sparkles and fire.”
I sigh dramatically and bat my lashes. “It’s upsetting how well he sees me.”
I pull out my phone to show them the photos of Glitterhoof, the glass unicorn I take everywhere with me, except for my clubbing clutch.
“Look what he made for me.” I turn the phone around to show them. “It’s made from melted glass. It’s multicolored, fragile, and beautiful. Basically, my personality trapped in glass.”
“Wonder what else he burns with his hands.” Harper raises her brows over her glass and sips her cocktail.
Charlie crushes my hand. “You’re not falling for him, are you?”
I match her stare, know where this is going. “I know. I have a black belt in dodging commitments. But yes, I did fall for him after last night.”
“Wear flats,” Harper mutters. “So it hurts less when you fall.”
Warmth buzzes in my chest. They’re both worried in their own ways and letting me make my own choices. That’s love, right?
Charlie hooks our pinkies like we’re twelve all over again. “Just promise us that if he gets creepy, we get to jump him.”
I get in before Harper throws around threats of knives and blood. “Absolutely, but I’ve got dibs on interrogating him with scented candles and Celine Dion ballads.”
I let Harper have her say when she lifts her drink. “To men we don’t understand but let ruin us anyway.”
Something I can get behind. We toast, laugh, and clink glasses for the second time with the kind of ease that comes with survival and sisterhood.
After dinner, we’re lined up in the queue at Velvet Underground nightclub. The night hums with the promise of music, heat, more alcohol, and fun.
“Ready to dance, girlies?” I ask my friends.
Harper smirks. “Ready to start a bar fight.”
I wave a finger at her. “No arrests tonight, please.”
Charlie’s breath shortens and her fingers bite into my palm. She’s dressed for bravery yet clutches her silver purse like a security blanket. Pink lip gloss, pearl studs, tight curls, and low heels show off the romance heroine about to slay her social anxiety with sheer determination. Fuck, I love her for it, and for shining so bright.
I squeeze her hand and lean in. “You’re doing amazing. We’ve got you. If you want to call it a night, I’m cool, okay?”
Her eyes flick from the neon sign to the line of strangers to the bouncer and back to me. “Remind me why I thought this was a good idea.”
“Because you’re braver than you know.” After last night with Grumpy Daddy, I’m pumped full of courage and want to dust a little on my friend. “And because Harper promised not to ditch us for a guy wearing eyeliner.”
Charlie nervous laughs. “Yes, I need to face this.”
Pride swells in my heart. “That’s my girl.”
She nods and murmurs our safe word, “Josh.”
“Love you.” I kiss her cheek.
