Page 4 of Hades and Persephone: Keeper of Sins

“Good.” I push up from the bed. “I have time to shower.”

Chapter

Three

Persephone

“Damn,girl, you’re like the friggin’ poster child for tits and ass.” Claire’s lips twist to the side in a half-pout, half look of disgust that has me feeling far more self-conscious than I like.

“It’s that bad?”

Willa shoots a jab into my ribs with her elbow as I’m trying to tug at the hem of Willa’s short dress I wear. I hadn’t packed anything for clubbing, because I’m not the kind of girl who clubs. Mom would pitch a fit, running straight for Pastor Tanner. The same pastor who’d once prayed the devil from my young soul.

Dad would—well, he’d just give me those disappointed eyes. The ones that accompany the thinning of tight lips before a slow head nod of disapproving acceptance. He’s a man of few words. Even if he wasn’t, Mom does the talking for him.

“Stop tugging,” Willa commands. “It’s not bad. You look hot.”

Claire’s eyes do another sweep, and she heaves a sigh. “She’s right. You’re stupid hot!” Under her breath, but with a teasing smile, she adds, “Bitch.”

I don’t understand Claire. She’s the wild one, always shooting flirty smiles to all the boys. And they’re there for it, gobbling up everything she serves like they’re lost in the desert and she’s water. I wonder when they’ll realize she’s a cactus, and they’re going to get poked far before they get a taste.

“Holy crap!” Claire’s jaw drops, spreading glossy lips wide. “Look at the line.”

Willa stops, shoulders falling. “Shit.”

I look between the two of them. “What? This isn’t normal?”

Claire tears her eyes from the line that weaves up and down the street and into a torch-lit alley. “You think this is normal? Where are you from?”

“Alberta.”

Claire’s brows knit. “Where?”

“Canada,” Willa answers for me, but she sounds direly bored. “She’s a farm girl from an itty-bitty town. Is it even a town or one of thosehamlet things? Never mind,” she brushes off before I can answer. “I don’t think she’s ever been clubbing.”

“Never!” Claire’s eyes are big. She’s being overdramatic.

There are tons of people who choose not to club. Not to imbibe and strip themselves of all inhibitions in the name of a good time only to wake cloaked in regrets. I know a wholetownof them, in fact. Okay, maybe it’s a hamlet. Whatever.

“Nope.” I sigh, because this is already feeling like it’s going to be a long night. I don’t fit in with Claire. Willa, either, if I’m being honest. Though, at least I can talk to Willa.

Relationships with people my age have always felt stilted. They never come naturally, but I am trying. I promised myself on the plane that I would try.

I just wish it was easier. Not so forced. So awkward and stilted.

“That’s wild.” Claire’s eyes dance wickedly. “We’re going to get you so drunk.”

Willa smirks at my nervous laugh as we settle at the end of a very, very long line. I’m already feeling the weight of exhaustion ten minutes later. I’m not accustomed to wearing heels. I don’t even wear heels to church on Sunday. I’m a jeans, leggings, and sneakers kind of girl. In the summer, you can’t find me in socks. I default to flip flops and sandals. I’m low-key, so these sky-high fire-red heels are beyond out of place for me.

The white slouchy dress is another matter entirely.It’s far too short for comfort.There’s no way I’m dancing tonight.

Andit’s backless. The fabric hangs from my shoulders in a sweeping fall to the small of my back. Because it’s backless, Willa had insisted I go braless. Braless with D cups isn’t practical,at all.

I don’t know what I’m doing here, with these girls.

I’m not this girl.

I’m so out of place.

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