Page 4 of Perfectly Imperfect Us
“Okay, okay. I’ll take the not-so-subtle hint and leave you alone.”
I let out the breath I was holding.
“But promise me this: come hiking in the forest with me tomorrow evening. I’m about to invite the boys, which means Max will invite Skylar, and she’ll invite you and Kadee and Lacey. So it’d be really embarrassing if you said no now and then had to say yes later once the ladies started pressuring you.”
My lips twitched, thinking Ryder could actually have a sense of humor before my brain caught up to how sneaky he was being. Trying to corner me into saying yes when I had no intention of spending any time around him if I didn’t have to. I grumbled to myself, wondering how to get out of this.
“I’ll even bring a bag of flaming hot Cheetos for you,” he added, his voice dropping so far I almost couldn’t hear him through the door.
My jaw dropped again, which had to have been pretty comical, had anyone else been home to see. How did Ryder know I loved flaming hot Cheetos? And to offer to bring some for me? That almost sounded kind. And thoughtful.
I frowned. I had no idea what food he liked.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I cleared my throat. “Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”
“Maybe next time we can even crack the door an inch.” His chuckle faded.
My heart thundered in my chest, making me not trust my hearing. I glanced out the window again, seeing the back side of him walking between our two properties and then climbing over his porch railing.
Yep, those pants were definitelynothideous.
I sighed, the movement causing the curtain to slip through my fingers and whack me in the face. Served me right. I shouldn’t be looking at that man or noticing his pants. Ever. His name was literally on that app game the girls and I played that day we waited in line forever at the amusement park. Skylar put it on her forehead and it said “Male model with eyes you want to swim in.” Of course the answer was none other than Ryder Steele. That’s how well known he was.
Maybe most girls would love him coming over to say hi. Probably would squeal and simper and flutter their eyelashes at him for a chance to keep his attention. Not me, man. He was just another hot guy out there only dating supermodels and pretending to be a decent human being. Guys gifted with those genetics don’t also receive the genetics that make up a kind person. They just don’t.
Feeling better about being a coward who hides behind closed doors, I huffed and ran off to my bedroom to get to work on this ruined makeup. The girls and I were going out to a bar a few towns over. Lacey said a new artist was playing tonight and she wanted to scope him out. The girl always had music on the brain.
As I sat down at my vanity, I turned the lights up bright and gave my skin a critical eye. Thank goodness I didn’t open that door.
I looked terrible.
You see, I’d been born with a skin condition called vitiligo. At first, it was just a few light patches of skin that my parents overlooked. But over the years, the patches got bigger, and as a half Hispanic kid who liked to play outside, my pigmented skin got darker, making the contrast hard to miss. When I hit junior high, I found the art of makeup. Little pots of color that covered my skin and made everything blend became my savior. I experimented and watched videos on how to become even more of an expert on application. Most of my acquaintances didn’t even know I had vitiligo.
Spray tans, makeup, and staying away from water were my secret ingredients for a normal life.
* * *
“He’s got a great voice, but these songs are kind of a miss for me,” I shouted over the current song the guy was singing up on the makeshift stage.
The place was packed, which meant we got squashed into the corner of the stage by the speaker. Lacey nodded that she heard me, but she didn’t take her eyes off the singer. She was kind of freaky like that. She could predict a singer’s success within minutes of hearing them perform. She wasn’t always right, but her accuracy remained better than any of the rest of us combined.
“I don’t know. It’s different. Not straight country, but a little bluesy, which I like.” Skylar swayed to the music, the diamond on her finger sparkling in the bright stage lights.
“I think he’s gorgeous and he can sing in my ear any time he wants.” Kadee had hearts in her eyes as she stared up at the guy. Her dreamy smile made me snort.
The song ended and I set my beer glass down on the crowded cocktail table. Two fingers went in my mouth and I let out a loud wolf whistle that got the singer’s attention. He tipped his baseball hat at me with a friendly wink, then turned back to flip through his playlist.
“Oh, great. Now he’s seen you and he won’t even look at me,” Kadee pouted, leaning heavily onto the table and rattling the glasses that hadn’t been picked up since the band started playing.
“Please, girl. No one is going home with that boy, so quit your crying.”
Kadee stuck her tongue out at me and I flashed her a smile. She wouldn’t stay mad at me for long. She never could.
“How long are we staying, ladies? I have an early shift tomorrow.” I’d been nursing one beer all night long and quite frankly, my feet were killing me in these suede boots with a four-inch heel I’d gotten on clearance last week. I looked amazing, but the dogs were barking. Big-time.
Skylar looked down at my feet. “Gonna have to get you a pair of shoes just like Virgie so you can stay out past ten.”
I raised one eyebrow. “The day I wear a pair of those is the day you need to take me out of this world.” I swallowed the last sip of my beer. “Besides, some of us don’t have handsome husbands who love us despite our flats that give us cankles.” I looked down at Skylar’s feet pointedly.
