Page 70 of Forbidden Lyrics

Pursing her lips, Trish grabs my phone out of my hands and snaps a photo of me.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask.

“Just a second,” she mutters, her fingers flying across the screen.

I reach for my phone, but she dodges out of my grasp and keeps typing.

“Trish. What are you doing?”

“I’m merely texting him. One second.”

“What are you saying?” I screech, my panic rising with every tap of her acrylic nails against the screen.

“Give me a sec.”

“Trish––”

“Here.” She hands me the phone, her lips pulled into a cocky grin as she waits for me to read it.

Holding my breath, I scan the message and take in the picture of me with messy, wavy hair, dark eye makeup that makes my irises practically glow, and a pale gloss along my lips that keeps me right on the edge of sexy yet innocent.

“Y-you sent this?” I breathe out.

“Told ya that you’re gorgeous. Has he responded yet?”

I shake my head and reread the message she sent to him while pretending to be me.

Me: That sucks. I was hoping to see you. But I guess I’ll have to get your opinion through text. Do I look like I could be a rockstar now? I’m debating on the leather skirt and might go for jeans, but I haven’t decided yet.

“Leather skirt?” I squeak, peeking up at her from my phone. “I don’t own a leather skirt. I don’t own leather anything.”

Trish laughs as she reaches for the bag hooked on the shower rail. “I may have brought a few options.”

My phone vibrates, and I unlock it with sweaty palms.

Gibson: You’re not wearing a leather skirt. And you should wash off the eyeliner.

“He told me to wash off the eyeliner,” I inform Trish.

She laughs. “Of course, he did. Tell him that you think Fen will like it.”

“Trish––”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

I take a deep breath and do as I’m told. Again. Because apparently, I’m a pushover.

Me: I think Fen will like it. The liner and the skirt. So I’m wearing both.

Gibson: This isn’t you.

Me: Maybe it is. Maybe you shouldn’t put me in a box, and you should let me decide what I want instead of assuming you know what’s best for me.

Gibson: Dove…

Me: Have fun at work. I’ll miss you.

I turn off my phone and set it face down on the counter.

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