Page 13 of Between the Lines

CHAPTER SIX

“IT’SJUSTLIPGLOSS,” Meg insisted as she aimed the wand from a glossy tube of red goop at Jo’s face.

“I don’t want it!” Ducking, Jo tried to avoid the lip gloss, and Meg missed, swabbing Jo’s cheek instead.

“Now look what you did,” Meg sighed as Jo scowled. Leaning in, she rubbed at the red stuff on Jo’s cheek and then, lightning quick, swabbed a matching stripe on the other cheek. “There. It’ll work as blush. Now you at least look like you’ve seen the sun sometime in the last decade.”

“For fuck’s sake, Meg.” Holding up her hands to fend off another attack, Jo took a giant step back, putting space between herself and her fashion-loving older sister. “I’m wearing the outfit. Isn’t that enough?”

“The blush looks good,” Meg continued as if she hadn’t heard Jo speak, “but you’d look even better if you’d just let me comb your hair.”

“Don’t touch it,” Jo warned, backing up yet again. She’d kept her formerly long, chestnut waves in a sleek bob since she’d hit her twenties, the only reason being that, in her opinion, she never needed to do anything to it—it always looked the same. “Seriously, Meg. The energy it takes me to fend you off is the energy I should be using to smile at strangers without baring my teeth.”

“Fine,” her sister huffed, turning her attention to her own reflection. As usual, she looked like an Instagram post—something Jo knew she could never achieve, even if the thought of spending several hours on her hair and makeup didn’t make her want to stab herself in the eye.

“You look good enough for both of us,” Jo insisted, herding her sister to the door of the funky little bathroom in the lobby of the hotel. There was a fireplace and a lounge chair inside the room, which puzzled her—why would anyone want to hang out in the bathroom?—but she supposed that Ford knew what he was doing. Actually, maybe she’d sit in that chair and hide here for the rest of the evening...

Before the door closed behind Meg, though, she turned and grabbed Jo’s hand, tugging her back into the lobby. Snagging a fresh glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter in what looked like a vintage tux, she pressed it into Jo’s hand, then gestured around the room.

“Chug that, then go mingle,” she ordered, straightening her sequined, spaghetti-strapped sheath. “Ford said we had to. You don’t want to disappoint Beth.”

Damn it.Meg knew that Beth was Jo’s kryptonite—the sister she’d always been closest to, the sister she still was terrified of losing if her illness came back.

Yeah, she’d do anything for Beth—even mingle.

Pasting what she suspected was a terrifying smile on her face, she shuffled a few awkward steps farther into the room. Chugging down her sparkling wine so fast that it burned, she grabbed a second glass as a prop while she stood awkwardly, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“You look like you could use some company.” Jo looked up as a man sidled up next to her. He smiled, revealing toothpaste-commercial teeth, and she cocked her head, taking him in.

He was good-looking, she supposed. Objectively, he was tall and well built, with the kind of body that wore a suit well. His features were distinct, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He even had a dimple in his chin.

“Are you all right?” His blinding smile faltered, and she realized that she’d left the silence run on too long as she studied him. She had a bad habit of doing this, losing track of the conversation as she scrutinized a potential partner, wondering what the hell was wrong with her when she inevitably wasn’t interested.

Again.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled politely, sipping at her wine. “Why are you here?”

Her potential suitor blinked, and Jo winced. Man, she sucked at small talk. “What I mean is, what brings you to this event?” There. That sounded fancy enough.

“I’m one of Ford’s friends from back home.” He sipped his own wine, looking at her over the edge. “I’m barking up the wrong tree here, aren’t I?”

“Pardon?” Jo blinked, even as his meaning flooded through her. She could have recited his next words along with him.

“You’re not interested.” He smiled at her, though he seemed slightly puzzled by her reaction. At least he hadn’t said You’re not interested in men, which was what she’d been expecting.

“Sorry.” She shook her head and offered what she hoped was a winsome smile. “Better luck elsewhere.”

He was clearly startled by her response, but then she was gone, scurrying across the lobby floor as fast as she could in her slightly slippery shoes. She gulped at her wine, leaving the empty glass on a table as she headed unerringly for the wide, stone-tiled stairs, desperate to get away.

She wasn’t good with words in person. She was socially awkward to the extreme. And Dimples had picked up on her one insecurity, the one thing that she just couldn’t figure out about herself—no, she wasn’t interested. Not in him, not in any man. Hell, not in any woman, either.

She hadn’t been since Theo. She’d tried, and sometimes she managed a mild affection, but attraction? Sexual arousal?

Forget it. That was why she’d fallen in love with her blog—it was an outlet, a place for her to explore her sexuality in a place where her own biology had failed her.

She could rage against it, she supposed, as she reached the upper floor and sighed with relief at the sudden muting of the party noise, the voices. But what was the point?

Footsteps sounded on the staircase behind her, along with the hushed murmur of voices. Shit. Her encounter with Dimples had drained her—she just couldn’t handle interacting with even one more person.

---