Page 27 of The Illicit Play
The buzzing in my chest suddenly fizzles out, drowned by a bucket of cold reality.
Shit.
What if he hadn’t been there?
Or what if he’d seen me pulling that polish out of my pocket?
The look on his face would have been…
My stomach sours as I then picture Wily’s face if he ever found out that his little sister was a shoplifting thief.
I never thought I could do something like that, but I was out with my roomie. We were bored and she was restless, antsy. We were set to go to a party that night, but it was still three hours away. I’d made my morning classes but ditched the afternoon ones, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that I was failing like I never had before. I hadn’t even bothered showing up for a test the week earlier, knowing I was bound to fail it. I hadn’t done one minute of studying, so what was the point of putting myself through an hour of stress and confusion?
So, we were wandering around downtown Chicago, walking in and out of shops but not in the mood to buy anything.
Loitering in the makeup aisle, Cleo and I were giggling over different lipstick colors. She tried on a bright cherry red, then made me try a neon pink.
“We look like hookers.” She giggled in the mirror, wiggling her eyebrows and making me laugh.
The color was awful on me, and I wiped it off with my finger, smearing a little across my cheek. She giggled again, then snatched the tube before I could put it back, shoving it into my pocket.
“What are you doing?” I laughed, going to put it back.
But she grabbed my wrist before I could.
“Take it,” she dared me, her eyes sparking with challenge.
“What?” I whispered. “No way. I can’t.”
“Why not? It’ll be fun.” Her expression was so vibrant.
“It’s stealing,” I mouthed before glancing over my shoulder, feeling like a covert operative as I checked the coast was clear.
A thrill whistled through me.
No one in the aisle was watching us, but she leaned in close, her breath fanning across my face. “It’s no big deal. Just do it. It’s a rush.”
“But I can afford to pay for it,” I softly argued. “Even though I’d never buy this hideous color.”
“It’s not about the fucking money, Miss Trust Fund. It’s about the thrill.” She squeezed my wrist, leaning back to look me up and down. “Come on, baby. Don’t be a pussy.”
Her eyes continued to dance, and I couldn’t deny that spark burning inside me.
I’d never done anything so daring. So dangerous.
And I wanted it.
I wanted that rush.
So, I lifted my chin, looked around us, and headed for the exit. Cleo curled her hand around my arm, and we strutted out of that store with my stolen lipstick.
And yeah, it was a rush.
Addictive.
Naughty.
I’d never done anything like it. And that one small act unlocked a gate.
