Page 54 of The Masks We Wear

Maybe these new dates can provide some of the same therapy they did then. At least I can hope.

The metal doorknob rattles before Lily appears. Despite the weather, she’s wearing a long sleeve off the shoulders sweater and a heathered pencil skirt. Soft blonde curls tumble around her, and my eyes find themselves attached to the silver necklace lying on her collarbone. The little charm is hidden beneath her top, but I vaguely try to make out the shape.

“Eyes up here, pup,” she hisses, tossing her handbag across the chair back.

I roll my eyes, quickly tapping the remote on the table while simultaneously starting the timer. A royal purple floods the small room, making Lily’s contacts reflect an iridescent glow.

For the remaining time, I don’t bother looking at her. I can’t. Every time I do, images of her wrapped around William flood my thoughts. My jaw will clench until I’m sure I’ve cracked a molar. Little spots will cloud my vision as the anger begins to consume me, and my breaths will come harder and faster like I’m trying not to drown.

Still, even without looking, it happens. Slowly at first, then all at once. My pulse begins to race, and soon I’m struggling to suck in air.

Fuck her for making me want to punch my best friend in the face. And honestly, fuck her for making me feel.

The timer buzzes, pulling me back up for air. I gulp it greedily before silencing the alarm, keeping my eyes on the table. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Dandy. How are you?”

“Busy,” I cut, glancing up.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms and mutters, “I’m sure.”

“How are you feeling?” I ignore her comment. I’m sure she’s referring to the influx of attention surrounding me, especially since a few of my dates are members of her little cult cheer squad. It must really fuck her up that after all she’s done, girls still want me. Too bad I can’t make her watch the way she made me.

“Dandy,” she repeats, but the tips of her ears bloom a soft pink, forcing my lips to twitch, and split into a grin. That makes the blush worse, and the heat spreads to her cheeks. She purses her pouty lips, and my gaze snaps to them.

I wonder if she purred under William the way she did with me. If she melted from the warmth and fell apart in his arms. From what I saw, it looked like it, but it didn’tsoundlike it.

And if anyone knows how to fake something, it’s Lily.

The memory of them together tries to weave through my chest, squeezing my heart in the process. I clear my throat, a failed attempt to dismiss it as I wait for her question.

“How are you feeling?” Her words come out slow and soft, almost as if she cares about my response. It’s the perfect therapist’s tone. I’m curious if she still practices it in the mirror like she used to.

“How long are you going to sit there and talk to yourself, Liliana?” I huff, tossing the big beach ball in the air.

She turns, her sun-kissed tan from our day in the ocean shimmers under the setting sun. We’ve been in the treehouse for a whole hour and haven’t read one manga or ate one bucket of popcorn. Instead, she wanted to practice some psychologist lines in the mirror.

“You never let me practice with you, so I have to do it somewhere.”

“Because you make me feel like some kind of lab rat,” I spit, but quickly find myself regretting it. That’s not the real reason, but I can’t bring myself to tell her that. Tell her how good she sounds for a twelve-year-old kid and makes me want to scream on a white couch about all the bottled-up thoughts stuck in my head. And I don’t want her to see me as a freak. As someone to fix, or pity.

No. I want her to see me the way I see her.

With love in her eyes.

I swallow down the knot forming in my throat and answer. “Hopeful.”Regretful.“If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

Her glistening eyes narrow, and after a minute, she sighs. “Eat popcorn. If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

My breath catches in my throat. A fucking reaction. I know that’s what she wants—what she always wants, yet I can’t help but wish a piece of her really means it. Clearing my throat, I force myself to stay focused. Just one more question. “I’d be balls deep in someone.”

Her jaw clenches and relaxes three times before she smirks and flicks a stray chip of paint off the desk. “I’d feel bad for the girl on the receiving end of that. Probably the smallest three inches she’s ever seen and the worst two minutes of her life.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but three inches is enough to reach the G-spot, isn’t it?”

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