Several seconds went by until finally her shoulders dipped in defeat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She turned to me, a pleading look on her face, and I read the truth there. I expected her lies to bother me more than they did, but the truth was I hadn’t loved her enough, and the only feeling left was pity.
All my emotions were too wrapped up with Elizabeth. She was all I could think about.
I exhaled heavily and walked away.
I didn’t have shit to say to either one of them.
I just wanted to be alone.
And later? I wanted to fight.
27
I hated the color pink, any shade of it.
The soft pink like you’d see on a baby blanket, the hot-pink shade of lipstick that Mama sometimes wore, and even shades of maroon pricked at me. For two years now, the mere idea of wearing that color made my stomach churn. My prom dress had been a glittery, delicious pink, the shade of strawberry ice cream, with sparkles.
But as Shelley and I walked down Freemont Street on our way back from my meeting with Sylvia Myers for my jewelry interview, I came to a complete halt in front of a consignment shop window. I’d been in the store before to hunt through their old books or to look for good quality used clothing. The artist in me loved the unique and eye-catching window displays the owner put together.
Today, the display blew my mind. Everything was pink.
Shelley stopped next to me, her fashion designer eyes raking over the ensemble inside. “You like the dress? Kinda dated for you, don’t you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, my eyes running over the window. At the ceiling were pink papier-mâché clouds with a crystal chandelier hanging in the middle. Below that was the only mannequin, a tall blond wearing an empire-waist dress with heavy lace dripping from the sleeves and the tea-length hem. It was romantic and pink, and nothing I would ever wear—yet something about it called to me.
Next to the mannequin rested a pink and white distressed desk with an old typewriter and a collection of books on top of it, their spines facing outward, giving me a clear view of the titles. Pride and Prejudice was right on top. Darcy came to mind … then Declan.
I sighed, my eyes taking in the dress, part hippie chick, part vintage—and probably out of your budget, I reminded myself.
“It looks like someone vomited up cotton candy everywhere,” she said. “Besides, I thought you boycotted pink?”
True. “I wonder how much it is?”
“This place is reasonable. Plus you’ve got some money now.” She grinned widely and leaned in to give me another excited squeeze. She’d been bouncing along beside me since we’d left the interview, and her enthusiasm was contagious. I smiled back. I had to admit, I was giddy myself considering Sylvia had just offered me a thousand dollars for three of my jewelry drawings which she’d then hand over to her artisans in Ashville to recreate.
Letting go of those designs had felt like a small step on my way to finding the artist inside me again, as if I’d climbed a hill and reached the top. It wasn’t quite the mountain, but I knew if I kept putting one step in front of the other, eventually I’d get to the summit.
And then I thought of Declan. Again. What if he was everything I’d been unconsciously searching for these past two years? What if he was the one I was meant to love—right in my hands—and I was letting him slip away? Emotion swelled in my chest. Telling him to leave me alone had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done, and I hadn’t been able to sleep or think about anything but him for the past two days. His face. His eyes. His cocky grin. God, his kindness.
Before I knew it, we’d stepped inside the shop and were met by a sales lady.
“Can I help you, dears?” the older lady asked.
“I’d like to look at the dress in the window,” I said.
She showed us how to get up to the display through some rickety steps to the left of the window. “Go on up there and have a look, everyone does. It’s a small space, but you can move around. Just be careful.”
We nodded and went that way.
“Best we can estimate, the dress was manufactured here in the US. It’s a hundred percent silk with a lace overlay,” she called out from behind us as we stepped into the brightness of the window.
We checked the price tag. One fifty. Pricey.
I fingered the soft lace at the sleeve.
Why did I even want it? Where would I wear it?
“Try it on,” Shelley said in a hushed voice, which was odd, yet it was as if we both sensed the precipice I was standing on.
Without thinking too hard, I found myself whisked into the dressing room by the saleslady while Shelley followed to help me into the dress.
The material slid over my neck and arms, and when I turned to look in the mirror, the girl I saw there wasn’t the same one from Monday, the one who’d told the most beautiful guy he was only a one-night stand. This girl—she was almost radiant. Happy.
“What do you think?” I asked, and I heard the uncertainty in my voice.
Shelley’s face lit up in a big grin. “You’re gorgeous in it, of course, but you’d need to give it to me so I can do my thing. Maybe chop off the length—but keep the lace—and bring in the waist so it isn’t as loose.” She sighed heavily.
“What?”
“Pink always was your color …” I figured she was remembering the day we went shopping for our prom dresses and no matter what store I went in, I always gravitated toward the pink ones.
“Buy it, Elizabeth. And then fucking wear it—heck, even if it’s just to class. Prove to yourself that Colby doesn’t matter anymore, that he may have taken something precious from you, but he didn’t ruin you forever.” A mist covered her eyes.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Shelley. I adore you. Thank you for being my friend through all of this.”
She shook her head and wiped at her eyes, a rueful grin on her face. “God, I’m so stupid. Sorry. It’s just—seeing you walk into that interview today with your head held high and now you’re trying on this dress? I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to see this moment.”
Emotion welled, and I hugged her hard.
I realized it was time to stop being a coward.
* * *
Knowing and doing are not the same thing. I spent lonely nights in my bed, wishing I’d have a nightmare so Declan would come wake me up. Hold me. I was pathetic, and if I was a drinking girl, I would have used alcohol to make it better.
Declan was doing exactly what I’d asked him to do: leaving me alone.
The night after I’d bought the dress, I invited Blake over, mostly because I was jittery about Colby. We went out to the balcony to sit for a while, and Declan had been out on his, his elbows propped up on the railing, his bare chest glistening in the moonlight. I’d said hi. He’d nodded his response and stalked back inside. Later, after Blake had left, I’d heard a girl’s voice coming from his side of the wall, and when I’d gone out to take the trash to the dumpster, I saw Lorna from Lit class leaving his place. She’d flounced past me on the stairs with a knowing smirk on her lipstick-smeared face. Sharp pain knifed into me at the thought of him kissing her the way he’d kissed me.
Had he already moved on to the next girl? Was that how little I meant to him?
You did this, I reminded myself.
By Friday, I walked into Lit class determined to confront him and make him talk to me. He was already sitting next to Lorna, both their heads bent in a low conversation. Today, I told myself, talk to him. Tell him how you feel. And, God, I wanted to tell him—but my insecurities and fear needed him to show me he still wanted me first.
Dax sat next to me and poked me on the arm. “Hiya, girl. You okay? You look odd—well, you’re always odd—but you look stranger than usual today.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s just I hate seeing Declan with her,” I whispered as I nudged my head to the couple behind me.
He flicked his eyes to the couple and then back to me.
“Yeah? If it bothers you, then do something about it. It has to be you now.” His eyes studied mine. “You feel me?”
I nodded and then Dr. Feldman came in the auditorium. I pushed Declan out of my mind and focused on Darcy instead. At least a fictional character couldn’t hurt me.
28
On Saturday morning, I tried to psych myself up to approach Declan, but he wasn’t home. I knew because I constantly watched for his Jeep in the parking lot. By lunchtime I was restless, so I drove by his gym. His car was there, but then I couldn’t bring myself to stop and go in.
While I was driving home, an idea struck.
With determined steps, I went into the extra bedroom. I unpacked my jewelry tools from their boxes and spread them out on the desk, running my fingers across the cold sheet metal.
A shift occurred inside me, small yet significant, something that had been building for the past few weeks. I let go of the constant control I kept over myself, and suddenly my fingers itched. To create.
I looked deep inside myself and asked tough questions.
Where was my power?
Where was my belief in myself?
It was here all along, a small voice said.
Using 18-gauge sheet metal, I measured one of the bigger ring sizes on the metal that I thought would fit him. Without thinking too much about the significance of it, I etched one of the dragonfly designs I’d drawn earlier to what would be the inside of his ring. After that, I used my saw to cut out the band, filed it, and then used my butane torch to make the metal more pliable. I pickled the piece with vinegar and hot water, getting rid of some of the oxidation on the surface. Next, I used my pliers to shape it into a circle and then soldered it with my torch to connect the edges. After pickling it again and filing and sanding down the seam, I slipped it on a metal rod and began the hammering process, the tinkling sound echoing through my apartment. The last step was to toss the ring in my jewelry tumbler and let it roll around, getting polished. I took it out and set the ring down on my nightstand to dry.
I stared at it with deep satisfaction. He’d have a small piece of me even if he didn’t want my heart anymore.
My phone pinged, reminding me that I had dinner plans with Blake and Shelley. Shelley had said a band was playing, so I spent extra time getting ready, putting on my newly altered pink dress and a pair of silver strappy heels. It was a bit overboard for the restaurant, but I didn’t care.
That dress was my armor, proof I was changing a little bit every day.
At the last minute, I ran back to the bedroom and straight to the jewelry box, I found a chain, slipped Declan’s ring on it, and clasped it around my neck.
Perhaps I would never give it to him, but I wanted it against my skin.
When I walked out, I saw his Jeep in the lot. Before I could second-guess myself, I knocked on his door. Emotion was clawing at my chest, and I was teetering on the edge of—what?
What was I going to say?
Was I going to beg him to give me another chance?
Maybe.
But he never answered.
* * *
“Whoa, love,” said a male voice. “You better slow down there or you’ll fall.” Strong, tattooed arms reached out to steady my momentum as I stumbled walking inside Cadillac’s.
I’d know that husky voice anywhere.
Declan.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him here. It was Saturday night, and if there weren’t any frat parties, this was the place to be. He wore jeans and a nicer shirt than usual, and I found myself remembering how he’d looked in his gi pants with his chest bared and scars showing.
Heat curled in my core. This was the first time he’d touched me since the day on the quad.
He raked his eyes over me in a leisurely fashion, a slow perusal that started at my heels and worked its way up to my dress. “You look nice,” he murmured.
I nodded. “What are you doing here?” I asked, looking at his face, devouring his chiseled jaw and full lips. I squirmed, remembering that mouth on my body.
I peeked over his shoulder into the dining establishment. Was he alone?
Ah. Dax and several of the fraternity little sisters sat at a large round table toward the back, near where the band was setting up. Lorna was there, of course.
I let out a long breath.
“I’m here with friends. What about you? You with Blake?” His voice had snarled that last bit, and I stiffened. Blake had actually cooled it with the pressure and I wasn’t sure why, but part of me wondered if he was afraid of Declan.
“You’re not saying anything.” He leaned on the wall to get out of a patron’s way, putting us closer together. His finger reached out and traced a line across my cheek. “I know this look. You’re worried.” He paused, his brow wrinkling. “Colby?”
And I heard it then, the slight slur in his voice, the smell of alcohol on his breath.
My heart stuttered. I reared back. “You’ve been drinking?”
“I’m twenty-one. Would you like one?” He held up a bottle of dark beer, and I felt stupid I hadn’t even noticed. I’d been too busy taking in the rest of him.
“I don’t like it,” I snapped.
“Good thing I’m not with you then.” He tipped it up to take a sip.
We stared at each other as the seconds ticked by, that familiar zing between us tugging at my heart. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t want him so much. Even knowing he’d been drinking—I didn’t care!
“I came to your apartment tonight, but you weren’t home. There was something I wanted to give you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You ready for round two already? I didn’t think you did that, you being strictly a one-time shagging kind of girl.”
My chest rose. “Don’t be a jerk. Don’t you think I’m hurting? I’m going crazy thinking about you—”
Blake and Shelley stepped inside the door, laughing as they came over to us. Blake gave me a gentle hug and sent Declan a glare.
Declan sent me a conflicted look as if he had more to say, but then he straightened up from the wall, his muscles rippling and flexing. “Good to see you. I need to get back to my friends.”
Such cool politeness.
And then he stalked away to join the boisterous group at the back. As I watched, Lorna immediately got on one side of him and another girl on the other, both of them vying for his attention.
See, people are never who you really think they are. He’s just like all the rest, the rules girl said in my head.
“You okay?” Shelley asked, her voice tentative.
I shook my head. My chest felt like it was caving in. We weren’t even friends anymore. “I can’t stay here and watch him.”
Blake nodded. “I agree. Let’s go back to your apartment and order in pizza. My treat.”
I nodded and glanced down at my pink dress. I wanted to get it off as soon as possible. “Just get me out of here.”
29
I wasn’t a pussy. If she didn’t want me, I’d just forget about her, I told myself as I sat back down and took one of the tequila shots sitting on the table.
Dax sent me a wary look. “You’ve had enough.”
“It’s enough when she’s out of my head.” I nudged my head at Elizabeth, who stood at the door, a wounded expression on her face.
As a rule, drinking was something I rarely indulged in, but over the past few days, I’d worked on pushing Elizabeth out of my head. Or I’d tried to. Drinking dulled the pain briefly, but it was never enough.
I let her go the only way a guy knows how. I focused on girls who wanted me.
There’s no point in chasing a dream if it doesn’t want you back.
And I couldn’t stop the thought that maybe she was really in love with Blake but was denying it to herself. Maybe I was completely wrong about her feelings for me.
Since she’d told me to stay away, I’d seen them together everywhere. In the student center. On the quad. At her place.
I hated hi
m for no reason other than he had her attention and I didn’t.
I lifted my beer and took a drink.
One particularly bad day after realizing Blake was in her apartment, I’d called Lorna to come over to my flat. My head had been all twisty, and I hadn’t cared who I was with, my body jonesing for a release to make me forget about Elizabeth.
I’d kissed Lorna and eventually we’d ended up on my bed, but my heart hadn’t been into it, and before long I stopped us.
Being with Lorna had been wrong. And I don’t even know why.
I didn’t owe Elizabeth anything.
But …
The clarity hit me. I wasn’t just falling in love with Elizabeth; I’d gone completely over the edge as if someone had shoved me off a skyscraper and I was freefalling toward the concrete.
She was my queen and I wanted to be her king. I wanted to sit at the throne of her body and love her forever, but it wasn’t just about sex, although that had been over the fucking moon. No, with us it was about two broken people who looked deep into the eyes of the other person and just—meshed. Call it fate or destiny or just plain old karma, but whatever it was, the moment I watched her dance in the rain, my heart had known, only it had taken my head a while to catch up.
“She’s leaving,” Dax leaned over and told me.
“I don’t care. Fuck her.”
“Yeah, right.” He considered me, his gray eyes worried. “You need to get your head straight before the fight with Yeti.”
I turned my head to see her walk away and, fuck, part of me wanted to run after her.
And tell her what?
Was I ready to put myself out there again for someone with commitment issues?
Lorna’s heavily made-up eyes slid over me suggestively. “You want to get out of here, babe?”
I tipped up my beer and took a good long swig. “What’ve you got in mind?”
She licked red lips, her eyes gleaming with seduction as she pushed her tits in my face. I stared down at the creamy globes. I could have those in my hand tonight. “Whatever it takes to make you happy, Declan.”
British Bad Boys: Box Set Page 18
