Page 132 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
DOVE
Tip #20: Presence is braver than performance. Show up shaky.
The cable car creaked and groaned, swaying slightly. The noises blended into a hush of voices, gasps, and the occasional low chuckle from other riders who pointed out the view. The higher we climbed, the more there was to see. I inhaled deeply and looked around, noticing the glass—slightly fogged with breath—as the desert fell farther and farther away from us in layers of jarring red and gold.
Ellis had her phone out, capturing more content, and I noticed it was no longer against her will. She actually seemed to be enjoying herself now. She rarely balked at photos, and she didn’t need to be threatened by Liv anymore to start filming.
She would just do it.
Her voice was steady as she quietly murmured behind the phone, narrating to herself what she’d later mute out and replace with a clean, careful voiceover. She talked about the history of the tramway in that quick, charming way she did, gushing about the view and the altitude. I leaned my shoulder against a rail and crossed my arms, a self-indulgent smirk tugging at my mouthas I watched her face in the reflection of the mirror—those captivating green eyes full of light and animation.
And it wasn’t fake either.
She wasn’t putting on some practiced face.
Then—bam—Liv’s face suddenly slammed into the glass from the outside, upside down and grinning like a banshee.
“Jesus Christ!” Ellis screeched, nearly flinging her phone into the ceiling. She fumbled with it, wide-eyed, as Liv roared with laughter outside.
A few people in the tram jumped and turned sharply, shock clear on their faces. A boy, maybe eleven, pointed and laughed, while an older couple blinked at her wide-eyed, lips thinned, as if Ellis had just confessed to a murder.
“I’m s-so sorry,” Ellis stammered, her cheeks flushing as she looked around and swallowed. “I—I thought I saw a bird. About to fly into the window.”
I stifled a snort as people turned away from her, muttering under their breath before drifting back into their own conversations.
Ellis faced me, pure mortification written across her face.
Outside, Liv’s cackling faded as she disappeared back onto the roof with the casual disregard of someone who couldn’t die if she lost balance and plummeted into the desert below.
“Horrific,” Ellis mumbled, pocketing her phone.
“Hilarious,” I corrected, grinning as I shook my head. “I don’t know if it’s sad or funny that I was waiting for her to do that. Is it scary I know her so well after only, like, a couple of weeks?”
I kept my voice low. I didn’t need to be the girl talking about someone no one else could see in a packed tram.
“Well, there hasn’t really been a moment apart,” Ellis said with a shrug, an odd expression crossing her face as she turned back to the window. The curve of her neck caught a streak of golden light as she did, and I swallowed hard.
It wasn’t laughter I was trying to bury now.
It was desire.
She looked radiant this evening.
Her cheeks had been flushed since we left the motel, likely because she was overthinking and panicking about tonight, spiraling and stressing, but there was more color in her skin these days, and the warmth suited her. There was a softness in her eyes now, something far removed from the girl who’d first walked into my shop.
I could still remember that girl—pastel and polite discomfort, with obvious disdain for her surroundings. I’d been so confused at the time. Why had she come into the store when she didn’t believe in what we offered? She’d gently mocked it all at once, while still being as polite as ever.
Now that I knew her, I got it.
I came back to the present, catching the way the sunlight hit her hair, casting flecks of auburn and hazel through the strands. She was wearing a baby-blue, off-the-shoulder top that made her freckles look like stardust scattered across her shoulders. Black jeans hugged her legs and ass. White sneakers—still as clean and immaculate as ever.
How her shoes hadn’t been obliterated by now, I would never understand. I had never seen her clean them this entire trip.
The many mysteries of Ellis Langley.
The more time I spent with her—the more I got to know her over the long stretches of road, where it was just the three of us for company—the more I realized she wasn’t some fragile porcelain doll in recovery. And while the journey terrified her, she was doing it anyway.
Maybe I’d never seen anything braver, considering she was clearly almost a recluse.
