Page 4 of Half-Hearted
The shuffling paused. Then restarted, moving closer to the door before it flung open.
“Hi,” I teased, even though it really wasn’t the time or the place. I couldn’t help myself.
Alexis grinned, then dipped her voice to a comically low octave and rumbled, “What’re you doing here? It’s two in the morning.” Then she cackled like she’d just told the world’s greatest joke.
Fuck me. She was so fucking cute.
“We really gotta get you home,” I tried, even though I couldn’t get the idiot grin off my idiot face to save my idiot life.
The pout was back but with a glint of stubborn humor this time. “No.”
She spun on her heels and pranced away, her long, sleek ponytail swinging freely behind her. Even in this state, she had more grace and coordination in her pinky toe than I did in my entire sober body. Almost twenty years of classical ballet did that, I guess.
Had I wondered whatother, less PG benefits there might be? Or just how flexible and bendy she really was?
Every single fucking night for the last seventeen months. Ever since she’d worn that cursed yellow dress to her brother’s twenty-sixth birthday barbecue and ruined my life.
Life had been so simple before the yellow dress; things had madesense. Alexis was Alexis. Little Lex, as we’d called her growing up. She was a kid, six years younger than me, with a small (albeit obvious) crush that had started when she was around five. It was cute. Innocent. And nothing was ever going to come of it, obviously.
Until the yellow dress. Until Little Lex had become…Alexis.
My brain had folded onto itself when she’d arrived at that party, all sultry curves and bright smiles and fiery confidence. It had been over two years since I’d seen her by that point. She was studying fashion photography in New York, and her visits back home had been scarce, so I wasn’t entirely prepared for her to show up and be so… grown-up.
I hadn’t been able to so much as look at a banana or the sun—the literal sun—since that day without my heart skipping three full beats. You know how many times a day you notice the fucking sun when you’re hyperaware of its wretched, invasive existence? All. Fucking. Day. Long. That thing is out and aboutall day long.
Just go inside instead of complainingis what a reasonable person might suggest. Except you know what else is yellow? Lights. All of them. The ones in my bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, office, car, the grocery store. The loonie is also yellow. And so are lemons, egg yolks, bees, rubber gloves, flowers, emoticons…
So, yes. Alexis Milani had worn a yellow dress one time, seventeen months and four days ago, and I’d been spiraling ever since.
I sighed, gathering every last bit of strength and willpower I could muster before I entered my apartment. I just needed to grab my keys and convince her to get in the car. That was it. Then she’d go home, pass out, maybe feel a little embarrassed tomorrow morning, we’d move on from it in a few days, and everything would go back to normal.
I walked inside and snapped a (yellow) light on. But she wasn’t in the living room.
“Lex?” I called, shutting the door behind me.
“In’ere!”
The bedroom.
I rubbed my eyes and said a silent prayer before reluctantly dragging my feet to my doom.
Alexis was sprawled out on the dark bedspread, her tight dress riding up too many inches too high.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and stayed right at the door, refusing to step inside.
“Hello,” she purred, flashing me a soft, sultry smile.
Ethan was going to have my head.
We’d been best friends for over twenty years and had one rule we’d sworn to abide by, justone. No sisters. No exes. No exceptions.
“You should c’mere,” she suggested, rubbing the spot next to her seductively.
Absolutely fucking not.
“I think we’d both hate me in the morning if I did.”
She pouted unhappily, then sat up slowly. One of the thin straps of her dress skimmed down her smooth shoulder, leaving it entirely bare.
