Page 13 of Scattered Glitter

“Who are you texting?” Rosalee asks absentmindedly, but before I can answer, she glances up, one eyebrow raised. “Ah, yeah.That one.”

I narrow my eyes at her, but she just grins, returning to her magazine.

Fell asleep?

No, sorry. Sister. Apparently, you’re ‘that one’ now.

Damn right I am. Tell Glitter she’s gonna have to get used to me.

Cocky much?

Only when I know I’m right.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too widely, my heart doing that ridiculous fluttery thing again. It feels like stepping to the edge of a cliff, toes dangling over rocks, and daring the wind to catch me.

Goodnight, Ace.

Sweet dreams, Trouble.

As I set my phone down, Rosalee glances at me, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“Oooh, you really like him,” she singsongs.

“Go to bed,Glitter,” I mutter, warmth blooming in my chest.

I jolt awake, my head throbbing like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to it. Groaning, I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, trying to escape the harsh light filtering through the curtains.

The tasteof stale alcohol clings to my tongue. My body aches, and my muscles are stiff as I try to get up. The room spins, and I press a hand to my forehead, groaning.

Why do I keep doing this?

I remember the first time I drank to numb myself. I sat alone in our room, the sound of rain pounding against the window drowning out the emptiness that had settled in my chest after I’d gotten home from the hospital. It was supposed to take the edge off, make the pain a little less sharp. One drink turned into two, then three, until the only way I could get through the nights was with a bottle by my side.

Pushing myself up with shaky arms, I stumble to the bathroom, my bare feet padding against the cold tiles. The apartment is quiet. No sign of Annabelle or Good Lookin’.

After relieving myself, I shuffle to the living room, my eyes squinting as I spot the pack of Twinkies we left on the sofa. My stomach growls loudly, so I grab the last one and wolf it down without thinking.Big mistake.Nausea hits me like a sucker punch, and I have to steady myself against the wall.

God, food and my stomach don’t match when I’m hungover.

Glancing at the clock, my vision still blurry, I see that it’s already late afternoon. At least it’s Sunday—my day off.

I know I should probably drag myself to the gym that has poles in the back and get in some training, maybe work on some new routines to clear my head, if nothing else. But, fuck, just the thought of spinning around a pole right now makes my stomach turn.

I didn’t feel that drunk when I finally crawled into bed, but my body clearly doesn’t agree with that assessment.

When the nausea finally ebbs, I drag myself into the shower at least, turning on the water as hot as I can stand.The heat scalds my skin, but I welcome the sensation, letting it burn away the exhaustion and the remnants of last night’s glitter. The tiny sparkles swirl around my feet, disappearing down the drain like a shimmering whirlpool, taking pieces of me with it.

The steam fills the room and wraps around me until I step out and face the foggy mirror. Wiping away the condensation, I reveal my reflection bit by bit.

While I’m worried I’ll someday forget what Ace looked like, I could never forget the details of Rosalee’s face.

Because it’s mine.

Sometimes, I catch myself wondering if this is how she would have aged. Would she have that same faint crease between her brows from frowning too much?

I try to avoid mirrors now, doing my best not to look into my green eyes for too long, but there are times when I can’t escape it. And in those moments, I see her everywhere—in the curve of my cheek, the arch of my eyebrow, the shape of my lips.

Even in the glitter all over my body, a deliberate reminder of the sparkle I stole from the world. I wear it as a promise, a penance, trying to carry her sparkto shimmer in her place. As if that could somehow fill the void she left behind.

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