not all high and giggly like other girls’ laughs. Dee’s laugh reminds me of late summer nights—sultry with a soft breeze.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t princesses usually wear glass slippers and get saved by the prince?”
“Sure, in boring fairy tales. But in my story there is no prince. Her ally is from the dark side and they save each other.”
“I like that.”
“I thought you would.”
Dee looks at me strangely. “Will you let me read it when you’re finished?”
She’s read most of my stuff. “If it turns out well.”
“It will be as brilliant as all the others,” she says with her unwavering confidence in me.
She comes forward to stand between my knees. The small confines of the bathroom amplify the impact of her nearness. I breathe in her scent, something light and floral. My blood heats.
“So how did you fall?” she asks, leaning closer to gently dab at my cheek.
The swell of her tits, subtly outlined through her baggy sweatshirt, is at eye level, and I try not to think about how all those curves she’s hiding would look in a see-through dress—or better yet, with nothing at all. I avert my gaze and clear my throat. “I didn’t notice a path was icy and lost my balance.”
Her brow furrows and I can practically see her mind churning behind those beautiful eyes. “I ditched classes this afternoon. I guess karma knocked me on my ass.”
“If you fell on your butt, you wouldn’t have a cut on your face.”
“It’s just an expression.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs. “Where were you?”
“On the way home from school.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“What’s with the cross-examination?” I snap.
She flinches and her eyes fill with hurt. I feel like a dickwad for being the one to have caused it. But I can’t say that I sought the safety of her house before my father could wake up and finish what he’d started.
“Sorry for taking my shit out on you. It’s the cut,” I offer as an excuse.
Her body language softens in sympathy. “This looks like a lot of damage from just a fall on the ice. It needs stitches.”
“Nah.” Mama T works as a nurse at the hospital. There’s no way I can go there. Plus, my father would kill me if questions were raised.
“If you don’t have it seen to properly,” she warns, “you’ll have a scar.”
I shrug. Scars on the outside fade. It’s the ones on the inside that never will. But so she doesn’t read anything into my reluctance, I include a little cockiness for good measure. “It’ll give me a tough-guy look.”
Dee rolls her eyes. “Well, tough guy, let’s see that macho act now.”
She drenches a cotton ball with peroxide and swabs the cut. Screw macho. I curse a blue streak. But rather than rib me, Dee leans in, puckers her full lips, and softly blows away the sting.
I want nothing more than to bury my hands in those falling curls and press my mouth to hers. She’d taste sweet with a spicy kick. I’d bet money on it.
Dee tears off a square piece of gauze and a strip of tape. “Hold still.” She reaches for my cheek and secures the bandage in place. “Done,” she says stepping back to survey her handiwork. Giving me a modicum of space to get my thoughts in check.
“So,” I ask, “do I look tough?”
“No, you look like a guy who needs to lie down with an ice pack.”
“Way to squash my ego.”
“That would probably take a steamroller.”
I laugh and get a glimmer of another crooked smile in return. “Seriously, you should rest,” she says.
“I’ll stretch out on Victor’s bed for a while.”
“Or you could hang out in…ah…my room.”
Her suggestion floors me. On the surface, we’re like family, considering how close I am to the Torreses and how much time I spend here. But I’ve never felt brotherly toward Dee. Not that I would ever dare reveal what I do feel. She’s the daughter of the man who has given me so much. I’d never do anything to betray his trust. He’s protective
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t princesses usually wear glass slippers and get saved by the prince?”
“Sure, in boring fairy tales. But in my story there is no prince. Her ally is from the dark side and they save each other.”
“I like that.”
“I thought you would.”
Dee looks at me strangely. “Will you let me read it when you’re finished?”
She’s read most of my stuff. “If it turns out well.”
“It will be as brilliant as all the others,” she says with her unwavering confidence in me.
She comes forward to stand between my knees. The small confines of the bathroom amplify the impact of her nearness. I breathe in her scent, something light and floral. My blood heats.
“So how did you fall?” she asks, leaning closer to gently dab at my cheek.
The swell of her tits, subtly outlined through her baggy sweatshirt, is at eye level, and I try not to think about how all those curves she’s hiding would look in a see-through dress—or better yet, with nothing at all. I avert my gaze and clear my throat. “I didn’t notice a path was icy and lost my balance.”
Her brow furrows and I can practically see her mind churning behind those beautiful eyes. “I ditched classes this afternoon. I guess karma knocked me on my ass.”
“If you fell on your butt, you wouldn’t have a cut on your face.”
“It’s just an expression.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs. “Where were you?”
“On the way home from school.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“What’s with the cross-examination?” I snap.
She flinches and her eyes fill with hurt. I feel like a dickwad for being the one to have caused it. But I can’t say that I sought the safety of her house before my father could wake up and finish what he’d started.
“Sorry for taking my shit out on you. It’s the cut,” I offer as an excuse.
Her body language softens in sympathy. “This looks like a lot of damage from just a fall on the ice. It needs stitches.”
“Nah.” Mama T works as a nurse at the hospital. There’s no way I can go there. Plus, my father would kill me if questions were raised.
“If you don’t have it seen to properly,” she warns, “you’ll have a scar.”
I shrug. Scars on the outside fade. It’s the ones on the inside that never will. But so she doesn’t read anything into my reluctance, I include a little cockiness for good measure. “It’ll give me a tough-guy look.”
Dee rolls her eyes. “Well, tough guy, let’s see that macho act now.”
She drenches a cotton ball with peroxide and swabs the cut. Screw macho. I curse a blue streak. But rather than rib me, Dee leans in, puckers her full lips, and softly blows away the sting.
I want nothing more than to bury my hands in those falling curls and press my mouth to hers. She’d taste sweet with a spicy kick. I’d bet money on it.
Dee tears off a square piece of gauze and a strip of tape. “Hold still.” She reaches for my cheek and secures the bandage in place. “Done,” she says stepping back to survey her handiwork. Giving me a modicum of space to get my thoughts in check.
“So,” I ask, “do I look tough?”
“No, you look like a guy who needs to lie down with an ice pack.”
“Way to squash my ego.”
“That would probably take a steamroller.”
I laugh and get a glimmer of another crooked smile in return. “Seriously, you should rest,” she says.
“I’ll stretch out on Victor’s bed for a while.”
“Or you could hang out in…ah…my room.”
Her suggestion floors me. On the surface, we’re like family, considering how close I am to the Torreses and how much time I spend here. But I’ve never felt brotherly toward Dee. Not that I would ever dare reveal what I do feel. She’s the daughter of the man who has given me so much. I’d never do anything to betray his trust. He’s protective
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