Page 74 of The Kiss Of Death
“But he’s hurting you,” Yasmine said. “This is not normal. He can’t decide for you.”
“This dress was too much for me anyway. My boobs don’t even fill the whole corset, and with my hair, it makes me look like a creepy doll. And feathers?” I snorted, stretching my smile as much as I could. “It’s too much like Cruella. It’s not me.”
“I can buy it for you. I saved money this summer,“ Yasmine offered.
“No.” I pinched my lips, tears threatening the corners of my eyes. “Please, don’t. I’ll feel terrible.”
“Then I won’t buy mine and—”
“Please, Yasmine, don’t make me feel like I’m holding you back,” I begged her. “It makes me happy to see you happy.”
“Fine, then.”
She headed to the register, and I felt like a capricious coward for crying over a silly dress, but it was so much more than a dress. It was my inability to talk to my dad or go against him. It was impossible.
I was growing further away from the man who used to be my hero, and I struggled more and more to pretend to be perfect to please him, but I didn’t want to lose him.He wouldn’t love the real me.
I glanced out the store window and noticed Levi and his friends strolling on the street—probably on a shopping spree too. His eyes briefly locked onto mine through the window, and a faint furrow creased his brow.
The tear I was holding on to streamed down my cheek, and he proceeded to ignore my presence.
The clock moved another minute. She was late. I toyed with the silver ribbon tightened on my wrist. It was never my intention to leave Dalia’s ribbon with Eva, Evangeline, or whatever her name was.
The moment she was out of sight, I took back what belonged to me. Her silver ribbon. Unfortunately, no one could capture my interest, which led to Eva calling me a selfish prick and warning me someone like Dalia would never fall for me. It shouldn’t have disturbed me, but it did for a whole day because an insane part of me really did entertain the idea of her falling for me.
Could she?No, you’re an unlovable monster.
What if I forced her to love me?Didn’t work so well in the past for you.
Why should I care about her love?Because you want to take everything from her. Everything. And that would be the most precious prize.
“Shut up,” I groaned to the voices in my head.
I found myself irritated, nursing a general disdain for most people, yet paradoxically, I wished I could remain just as indifferent regarding Dalia. It was bad—daydreaming about chasing her, perverting her, forcing her to play with me for hours kind of bad.
And I surely didn’t like to wait.
I’d left the back door open for her so she couldn’t have possibly got lost. I clenched my jaw. I was waiting for a woman I was sure of despising behind the almost fallen curtain of an empty opera house in front of some vintage piano like some desperate fucker. My mother would be proud. She couldn’t get me to sit more than five minutes in front of that instrument.
“Sorry I’m late.” Dalia crossed the doors, cradling her violin case as she arrived from backstage.
I noticed the gloss she wore on her lips and how her skirt was shorter than usual. Did she do that for me? Or was it a distraction to keep me from seeing that her hair was messy and her eyes were red?
“What happened?” It wasn’t a question but a demand.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then you should have hidden it better.”
I’d noticed the colors draining from her face in the boutique earlier. Compared to the way she usually looked—animated with a rainbow of emotions—she looked like a freaking corpse. It pissed me off because it wasn’t her, and someone had deprived her of her colors.
“I had a fight with my father. None of this is any of your concern.” She brushed me off.
I couldn’t help the smug scowl spreading on my face. I was very much interested.
“What were you doing in town anyway?” she asked.
“I was getting myself a tailor-made suit for the occasion,” I said, leaning against the piano. “Let me guess, your daddy doesn’t understand you, and you got into a fight?”
