Page 22 of Just (Fake) Married
Oh. My legs look awesome.“I mean, I want to make a statement, but I don’t want to be disrespectful.”
“I do,” Bliss said, striking a pose on my bed.
She looked like she was going to be working a shift at her bar and was counting on her tits to make her rent. We caught eyes and she pulled the V-neck of her tight, black t-shirt down even lower, making both of us laugh.
“You seem more cheerful than I expected,” I said to her, reaching into my closet to pull out something more ‘last will and testament.’ It was a black wrap dress that I wore when I thought my boyfriend was going to propose. Instead, he dumped me.
Did that make it a bad luck dress?
But it made my ass look great and it had pockets.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen some of these McGraws. You think some of them went bald and got hideously scarred in an evil experiment?”
She got up off my squawky, single bed and zipped the back of my dress.
Ethan hadn’t gotten bald or scarred.
Yesterday, he had looked good. Really good. All those handsome, heartbreaker looks in high school had sharpened and hardened into something…dangerous. Something so focused it was breath-taking. When he’d turned those stupid, blue eyes on me in the road, I’d felt like a highschooler again, showing up at his locker after that party, thinking something important was going to change. Yeah, he’d been good looking in high school, now he was devastating.
I wished I had punched him in that pantry.
“I don’t think their luck runs that way,” I said. I met my sister’s eyes in the mirror and I smiled at her.
“Are you nervous?” she asked me.
“Why would I be nervous?”
“There’s no point in lying to me. I’m the one who collected all those ping pong balls from my gym class so you could stuff them into Ethan’s locker at school. You had a thing for him.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
Thankfully, Amity burst into my bedroom door in a tight, denim dress that featured both tits and ass, along with her cowboy boots. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore red danger lipstick. Because she also had a reason to want to look killer good.
“Jesus, Amity,” Bliss chuckled. “You planning on making Mac McGraw swallow his tongue?”
“Sure am,” she said, with a smile that was as cold as ice.
Amity took Bliss’s spot on my bed and my tiny room was suddenly too crowded.
My twin bed was shoved under the window with my overflowing bookshelf beside it. My dresser was on the other side of the tiny room next to the closet. In between my bed and the closet was roughly three feet of space, that was always cluttered with dog toys, my shoes and dirty clothes.
It wasn’t that I was messy, but in a room this size, if I wasn’t constantly cleaning up, it looked like a mess.
“Don’t we need to go?” Amity asked, glancing down at her watch.
“Yeah. I just need Mom to get out of the bathroom…”
“I can’t believe you still live here with that terrible bathroom,” Amity said, flopping backwards on the twin bed.
There were five siblings at one point sharing that bathroom when we were growing up. The water pressure was terrible. The hot water tank was miniscule. My brother got to the point where he just peed outside, and half the time, I did too, because a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
“What do you think is going to happen today?” Amity asked.
“Why do you think I know?” I asked her.
“Because you should have gotten more of the story out of Mom last night.”
