Page 16 of Splintered Hearts

Getting ready for this party is the pick me up I need. I haven’t drank since Mark dumped my vodka, and now I feel nearly normal.

Almost.

I have no job, home, or immediate family, but ya know, progress. Earlier this morning, we went shopping, and it felt a lot like how it used to in college. Mark and I have a bond that the average person would not understand—one built on mutual trust, love, and the ability to out insult each other.

Slipping on the pink scoop-neck sweater I bought, I have to smile—it’s so far from what I wore at my father’s, and I love it. Soft, not just in color but feel. The pink clashes a bit with my eyes but melts against my pale skin, and the hem is short, rising just above my navel. August is a little warm to be wearing it, but the temperature should cool off tonight.

No more dull colors, suits, or hiding who I am.

Grabbing my lip balm, I dab a tiny bit on my lips and smooth it out. The shimmery pink is just the bit of color I need. I inspect myself in the mirror, and damn, with the magic of foundation and concealer, you can barely see the fading bruise around my eye. “Can I come in?” Hunter peeks round the door.

“It’s your room.” We’ve been in a tentative truce since Hunter returned and sent me to the couch, and things are peaceful apartfrom the unhinged noises that bleed through the walls every night. Whatever. I need to work on finding a place anyhow. That’s my next step.

“You look amazing.”

“Stop hitting on him,” Mark says, coming in.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Hunter grins. “Unless you’re into threesomes.”

“I already took one for the team in college. It’s your turn to wade in the trenches.”

“Shut up, Noah.” Mark sighs. “We’ll find a way to fulfill your threesome fantasies another day, babe.”

“I’ll survive,” Hunter mutters.

“You do look good and smell good. Nice change.”

“I always smell good.” Fluffing my hair a bit and looking myself over, I have to smile. I feel like me. “Are you guys going to get ready?”

Hunter’s brows pinch as if I have three heads. “We are ready.”

“That’s what you both are wearing?”

Mark looks down at his sweats and T-shirt, and then at Hunter who’s wearing gym shorts and a hoodie. “We’re hanging out with friends, not going to a jazz bar.”

“I think you look cute.” Hunter grins, dipping his fingers into the front of Mark’s sweats. “Play your cards right and we can have one last bathroom quicky.”

“Enough. My ears are bleeding as it is from last night. I think the entire block knows how much you enjoy Hunter’s dick.”

“Asshole.” Mark pouts.

Taking one last look at myself, anxiety starts to creep into me. Going out dancing in a club is one thing—I’d never see those people again. But these are Hunter and Mark’s friends. What if I embarrass them?

Is this too much? I hate that tiny voice in my head that sounds oddly like my father.

You’re too much.

Boys don’t paint their nails or do their makeup.

What if Hunter’s friends make fun of me? Hunter wouldn’t be friends with people like that, right? “Do I look okay?” I hate this. “Is it too much?”

“Yes.” Mark deadpans.

“If you’re worried that anyone will tease you about how you’re dressed, don’t be. My friends are good people. Wear whatever you want. They won’t care.”

“You sure?” How does Hunter see right through me?

“I was just playing around.” Mark squeezes my arm.

---