Page 52 of Stealing Sunshine

“You’ve gotten wise,” I say.

“Love does that to you, I think. Makes you see the world a little brighter.”

“Sounds . . .”

“Fun?”

“Terrifying,” I correct her.

Her eyebrows jump up quickly. “You’re not wrong. Relationships are terrifying. Especially after one like you went through. I don’t blame you for being extra guarded when it comes to letting people in. You’ve always kept most things close to your chest, but it’s been worse since you and Vic broke up.”

“She’s marrying that guy, you know?” I mutter.

“Good. I hope they have a terrible life together. They deserve each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” she says, a bite in her tone. I meet her waiting stare, somewhat comforted by the fierceness of it. “Don’t. She wasn’t meant for you. It’s time that you found out if you’re close to finding the person who is.”

It sounds easy enough. But if it was, I wouldn’t be in the situation I am right now.

Daisy didn’t needto be convinced to come with me to Peakside.

The moment I asked, she was agreeing and heading off to her room to get ready. I went to the basement, an itch beneath my skin that I knew I needed to ease before attempting to go out tonight.

When I turn my tattoo gun off and look at the clock, it’s been over an hour since I’ve been down here. A buzzing sensation lingers in my bones as I set down the gun and pick up the paper towel to wipe my ankle free of ink.

My back aches, and there are pinpricks in my calf as I stretch it out and blink the daze from my eyes. The flower on my ankle is small, hidden beneath a veil of black vines. I didn’t even realize I’d begun inking it until I got to thefifth petal. By then, it was too late to change course with the time I had. So, I hid it beneath the vines and hoped like hell nobody would get close enough to my feet to tell.

And Poppy said I wasn’t creepy.

The floor creaks above me, and I start to clean up my mess. We need to leave in an hour to be on time, and I’ve just created an open wound on a part of my body that’s going to be rubbing against a pair of cowboy boots all night. Even with the wrap I stick on, it’s sensitive and will be that way for at least another day. Fucking incredible thinking that was.

An hour later, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. After showering with my foot held out of the tub, I’ve already had to replace the wrap around the new tattoo and clean up a giant puddle from the floor before I slipped on my ass.

It kept me busy. Helped keep my mind off tonight and what’s going to happen the minute I step out of my room and head to Peakside with Daisy at my side.

The sock on my left foot is folded once at the top to keep from rubbing my tattoo, but the moment I slip my boot on, it’ll be going up and over it. I’m not going to risk wearing anything else just in case someone notices the new design. Especially Daisy.

After shrugging my black leather jacket on, I untuck my hair from the collar and linger with my hand on the door handle. Fake or not, this is my first date in a long time. I’m not a nervous person by nature, but the last few days have proved that I’m not immune to that feeling. It’s been one of the only things I’ve managed to feel at all.

With a shake of my head, I open the door and stride down the hall.

I don’t make it far before Daisy’s door opens. She sounds breathless when she says, “I’m ready! Are we leaving now?”

Any type of mental preparation I’ve done prior to this moment goes out the window the moment I turn around. Poppy’s speech about my worthiness is shoved to the back of mymind, replaced with an incredibly striking sensation of incredibleunworthiness. It has nothing to do with me and all to do with Daisy, though.

I doubt a single living person would ever be worthy of her right now.

She’s pulled her deep auburn hair up into space buns, leaving loose curls draping both of her cheeks. Her skin glows, lips painted a bubble-gum pink that matches the flowy romper she’s wearing. Bare legs that go on for miles despite her slightly shorter frame have my mouth filling with cotton. White tennis shoes are on her feet without a stain in sight.

I’m underdressed despite the simplicity of her outfit.

This is me. The black jeans and boots, cropped shirt that’s a size too big, and tonight, a leather jacket instead of the jean one that was hung beside it because I knew Poppy would hate the jean on jean. I’m confident in my style, and I won’t change it.

“Yeah,” I say on a loose breath. My throat is clogged, something thick stuck inside of it. “We’re leaving.”

Her soft blue eyes roam over my body, and I stand frozen in place. The flush on her cheeks is from her makeup. I wish it was because of me.

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