Page 35 of Pretty Lies

My anger rises as I slowly put my hand in the drawer, completely pissed with men thinking I’m weak because I went through the worst kind of trauma…news flash, boys, I fucking survived and that takes nothing but strength.

Pink’s eyes track my hand as I grip the bottle opener inside the drawer, something he can’t see from his spot five feet away. He swallows, his own hands clenching at his sides like he’s itching to grab a weapon and defend himself from thejumpywoman.

I pull my hand out fast, pointing the corkscrew at him like it’s a gun, and bark out laughter when he jumps and reaches for his gun, belatedly seeing the harmless object in my hand.

“What’s the matter,big man, does the wilting woman make you jumpy?”

He stares at me in a way that says he’s biting down the words he wants to hurl at me, a look I’m well acquainted with. I narrow my eyes at him, my lips opening to ask him what his problem is, but he speaks first.

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect, Mrs. Vaccari–”

“It’s Lexi, and do yourself a favor,” all the humor leaves my face, “don’t confuse me for a weak woman. The deepest kind of darkness is bred in the purest of hearts, and honey, I’m filled to the brim.”

He looks at me up and down, his jaw clenched before he turns on his heel, bypassing Luce who comes into the kitchen. He casts a look over his shoulder at his friend, before turning around with an arched brow.

“I heard you laughing, but it looks like you hurt poor Pink’s feelings.”

I scoff, working to uncork the wine bottle, desperately wanting a giant glass for my irritation; I think it necessary. The damn bottle obviously doesn’t though since it won’t give up its ridiculous hold on the cork.

I growl as I pull harder on the stupid bottle opener, “Well, maybe if he hadn’t spoken to me like a meathead, he wouldn’t be licking wounds.”

“What?” Luce says coming over, reaching for the bottle, but I turn away, irritation firing back up inside me.

“I’ve got it!” I snap as the bottle finally opens. “And don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself, especially when it comes to bullheaded fools.”

Luce’s hand covers mine as I pour myself a glass, his warm skin soothing me and making me slow down a little. I take a deep breath before turning to look at him. His eyes are slightly tense at the corners as he looks me over, probably seeing my facade crack a little.

“Lexi,” he starts but stops, weighing his words carefully no doubt, “I know you’ve been trying to take care of me, but what about you? You’re tough as hell, don’t get me wrong, but you’re also human; you need to heal too.”

I yank the bottle back and finish pouring my wine, my molars aching with how hard I’m clenching my teeth. I know he’s right, butI'd rather deal with someone else's pain than my own. It's easier this way.

“You have to.” He says, making me realize I said that out loud, “You can’t go around wearing armor over open wounds, sweetness. Maybe I’m not the right person to be saying this, considering I’d rather be wasted right now than face my own fucking demons, but let’s be real for a second.”

He doesn’t bother taking the bottle back, nor does he try to stop me from guzzling from my cup, he just stands there and waits for my response. I don’t want to give him one. For fucks sake, he just buried his big sister…how can he even begin to try and focus on me and my shit?

But this is Luce, and if he wants to talk real with me, then that’s what I’ll do.

I breathe deeply, placing my now half empty glass on the counter, sighing at the warmth the wine has begun to spread through my tense shoulders.

“Okay, Luce, I’ll do this, but I want you to know that if you expect me to be open with you…it won’t be pretty.”

He shrugs and leans back on the counter, a heavy look in his eyes that I feel all over my skin.

“I’ve never been attracted to pretty alone…I like the deep stuff. I want all the tiny spots of blackness that you keep hidden behind your care and easy smile. Gio likes your light, but I’m more interested in your dark, sweetness.”

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