Page 12 of Desiring an Angel

Usually, taking care of messes got assigned to me, tasks that didn’t require too much thinking. But awareness of shortchanging a customer after being late to work had me gnawing the inside of my lip while sweeping up the little boy’s mess.

Couldn’t I do anything right?

Simple math.

Count out the change showing on a damn computer screen I didn’t need glasses to see.

My feet itched to move, my legs wanting to drag me back and forth until Julie finished with the upset woman. Unfortunately, I had to clean up ceramics broken by a child I’d wanted to assure he had worth. That he was loved regardless of the ants in his pants.

But I wouldn’t ever get that chance.

“Three strikes and you’re out” was the excuse Julie used to fire my scattered brain long before my shift was supposed to end.

I didn’t argue, and wallowing in the sense of worthlessness I knew too damn well, I headed back home to my sister’s house, wondering if I would succeed at anything.

I sulked at the dinner table, pushing grains of rice I’d cooked for Nora and me around my plate.

“What’s your problem, Skylar?” Nora asked and wiped her mouth with her napkin. Of course, her fork sat upside down with her knife along the edge of her plate while my unused one lay haphazardly on my left.

How was it possible identical twins could be so different?

I’d already told her I’d lost the job she’d helped me find—and had gotten an earful about how I needed to start paying better attention to real life outside the books I devoured.

After the lecture, I’d locked myself in my room and did that very thing—picked up Annie Kelly’s newest MMF romance novel. The story had only caused restlessness in my blood. I’d itched to do something, but needing to make dinner had kept me indoors.

I stood to clear the table, having to force my smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Huffing an annoyed exhale, I set our dirty dishes in the sink and turned, leaning back against the counter.

Green eyes framed with auburn lashes exactly like mine studied me.

I felt like a science experiment beneath her gaze, same as always. “I’m horny and bored.” Honesty came naturally for me, something Nora didn’t understand. I used “too many words much too often.”

Her cheeks flushed, and I rolled my eyes, returning to the dishes. Like our parents, Nora didn’t discuss sex. She’d never even talked about boys. Or girls. I assumed she was asexual but wouldn’t cross a line by asking.

“Find a hookup and get out of my hair for a while,” she muttered.

I spun, my eyes blinking wide, sure some sort of living virus had taken over my sister’s brain. She never said stuff like that. Ever. “What did you say?”

Nora’s face still showed a deeper shade of pink beneath the overhead lights as she shrugged. “It’s what my co-workers were discussing at break yesterday. That and dating apps.” Her nose crinkled as though the idea sickened her.

But she’d repeated their words, giving me ideas.

Nibbling the inside of my lip, I wondered what could possibly have happened to make my straitlaced sister suggest such a thing. Maybe that stick up her ass had somehow jiggled loose.

The desire to veer and sprint with my usual reckless abandon down a path I knew nothing about sprang to life inside me. “Want to go to a bar or club with me?” I blurted the idea as soon as it shot through my brain.

She shook her head before I even finished my question. “Absolutely not! Both are a waste of time.”

I should have known better than ask. Nora didn’t do crowds. Or people. Period. Seeing as how I didn’t have any friends in the entire state of California, that left me to the second option.

“Which apps did they say are the best?” I asked, already onto thought two.

She blinked. Frowned as though processing some great mathematical calculation in her perfect brain. “I don’t—actually, forget I mentioned it. I have no idea what made me bring their conversation up. I’ve been too stressed out and need more sleep.” Nora shook her head, tucking frizzy strands of red hair behind her elf-like ear, the only physical trait we didn’t share.

Thank God I hadn’t inherited the slightly pointed tips of our mother’s like she had. It was bad enough having a river of red hair, pale lashes, and big green eyes like a Disney character.

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