Page 66 of Good Luck Charm for the Wolf

Lucky fuckers.

The smell of pizza dough and tomato sauce usually makes me smile.

This morning?

Not so much.

I slip my key into the lock and push open the door, shivering as the cool air of the AC hits my face.

It’s early. Way too early.

But I couldn’t sleep, and the mural needs repairing anyway after what those morons did to it yesterday.

So here I am.

Paintbrush in hand.

Trying not to cry in front of my ruined vision of the city street just outside the windows, made cutesy and cartoony with a pizza moon and smiling customers.

Only Eric and his band of merry assholes painted penises on my pepperoni pies and scribbled words like bitch and fat whore across the bottom.

Pathetic. Losers.

Still, a tear escapes my eye, but it’s an angry one. Not sad.

Those assholes don’t get to make me sad.

Doug? He’s made me sad.

Again, that’s my fault. I gave him that power, and it was wrong of me. I jumped in too early. Trusted him when I should have used caution.

Stupid, Dina. Really stupid.

I drag the roller over the wall, biting my lip so hard I taste copper.

I should be over this by now. Over him.

It’s been almost twelve hours.

He left. He lied. He didn’t mean forever.

Case closed, right?

Except every time I try to shove my feelings into a mental box and seal it tight, my stupid heart whispers to me and hope springs eternal.

Because what if he did mean it and just got scared?

“Morning, Dina.”

I turn around, startled to find MJ breezing in through the side entrance with a coffee in each hand.

Her newly dyed purple hair is up in a messy bun, and she’s already dressed in leggings and a Pizza Girls tee like it’s battle armor.

Maybe it is.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, inventory. Remember?”

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