Page 61 of Wicked Rockstar

I shrugged.

“Cool. Maybe I’ll learn something by watching them.”

I scowled and picked up my drink. Fuck that. She just needed to be herself, and here I was giving in to her request for a makeover.

Well, damn it. I hadn’t thought that through well enough. It irritated me that I’d acquiesced so easily. That I might have inadvertently confirmed her reason to change.

“Oh, look at her!” Trissa pointed at a contestant in a skimpy outfit. “That’s so sexy. Maybe I should try to wear something like that.”

I grunted, taking a swig of my Scotch. “You don’t need to do that stuff, Tink.”

She sighed dramatically. “But look at how the guys are all over her. That’s what I need.”

As Tris pointed out the contestants’ moves and outfits, I watched her. The way her eyes lit up when she got excited, how she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating—these were the things that made her beautiful—not some fake TV version of sexiness edited to remove all the awkward real life moments.

“Oh, did you see that hair flip? I should practice that.” Tris attempted to mimic the move and nearly hit me in the face.

I chuckled. Being with her lightened my mood. When she was here, it was hard not to see the fun in the world. “Careful there, you might take someone’s eyes out.”

She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed. This was the laugh I remembered. Loud. Boisterous. There was no doubt how she felt. Happy. Sad. Euphoric. It all came across in her expressions and laughter. “Help me. Don’t mock me,” she chastised.

“Iamhelping. I’m helping you avoid lawsuits for grievous bodily harm via hair flip.”

She dissolved in a fit of giggles. “Oh, my God. Can you imagine?” When she finally calmed herself down enough, she asked, “What would you suggest, oh wise one?”

I took a deep breath, knowing I was treading dangerous waters. “I’d suggest being yourself, Tink. The real you—the one who can talk for hours about books, who cries at greeting card commercials, who once started a petition to make bunnies an endangered species … ”

Her cheeks flushed, and I thought I saw something in her eyes. But then she shook her head. “That’s sweet, Killian, butthat girl doesn’t get seen by guys. I don’t want to be alone forever. ”

I bit back the words I wanted to say—that any guy who didn’t notice her wasn’t worth her time. Instead, I said, “Maybe we need to work on your confidence, not your outfit.”

She scooted closer to me and laid her head on my shoulder. We’d sat like this so many times as kids, yet now there was more. An awareness that the deep-seated desire to protect her had grown, from not just outsiders, but from one of our own. From dicks like Peter, who didn’t see her worth.

“Thanks for your help, Killian. I’m so grateful you came back into my life. What would I do without you?”

As the scent of her shampoo wafted up to me, I closed my eyes and allowed myself one moment of weakness. “Crash and burn, probably.”

She laughed and snuggled closer, oblivious to the effect she was having on me. I took another sip of Scotch, wishing with every sip that the burn would distract me from the warmth of her body next to mine.

Sitting in comfortable silence with Tris was timeless. It could have been minutes or hours; either way I wouldn’t be ready to move away when Lexi arrived.

My phone buzzed with the reminder it was almost time. Tris jumped up excitedly when the notification buzzed a second time, alerting us that Lexi was in the building and on her way up. I steeled myself for what would come.

I’d help her, of course. I’d do anything for her. But a part of me hoped that somehow, through it all, she’d realize how perfect she already was—and that the right person would see that without any changes.

That the right person was standing right in front of her.

Wishful thinking. Haven’t you learned yet not to get your hopes up?

But then she turned and flashed me that brilliant smile, and I knew it was already too late.

My heart was destined to continue shattering. Over and over again.

Chapter Seventeen

TRISSA

Standing in the middle of Killian’s impressively expensive living room with zero personality and surrounded by clothes and accessories that could stock an entire high-end fashion boutique, was overwhelming on levels I’d never experienced. Lexi, the fairy godmother Killian had miraculously conjured, flitted around the room with her assistant, Jenn, pulling out outfit after outfit for me to try.

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