“I think you bring it out in me.”
“Is that a good thing?”
I tilt my head to the side and watch her lick her spoon clean. “As long as you don’t do it when we dance.”
She smiles. “I think I can manage that.”
“By the way …” I point my spoon at her. “… You have ice cream all around your mouth.”
She wipes at her lips with her fingers and looks at them, then at me. “No I don’t.” She narrows her eyes.
I grin and stick my spoon in her ice cream again. This time I get a spoonful of ice cream, and I poke my tongue out at Abbi. She half-smirks, staring at me. My eyes flit between her and the spoon, and I slowly move it in her direction. She opens her mouth and closes her lips around the spoon, sweeping the ice cream from it.
“The stealing was utterly pointless,” I say, observing the smeared spoon.
“Oh. Hang on.” She reaches forward and snatches it. She beams at me, and her tongue flicks out. It licks across my spoon, removing every last trace of ice cream, and I can’t focus on anything but that pink tongue sliding back behind even pinker lips. She puts the spoon back into my hand. “Missed a bit.”
My fingers close around it. “Uh huh.”
Chapter Eleven -
Abbi
I finger the material of the red knee-length dress, holding onto the long lace sleeve. My eyes comb over the boat neckline and the lace body, down to the black belt at the waist and the plain skater style skirt. I want this dress – I want it badly. But the sleeves get me.
For so long I haven’t worn anything other than long, solid sleeves that hide the scars that cover the underside of my arms. The white lines stay hidden, my secret from the world. And the problem with the sleeves on this dress is it has holes. Tiny holes, not big enough to see the blemishes marring my pale skin, but they’re still holes.
“Try it on,” Mom urges from behind me. “It’s a lovely dress, Abbi. Very you. Very new you. That color will look lovely with your hair.”
“I don’t know,” I reply, still staring at the sleeve in my hand. “I don’t really have anywhere to wear it. There’s not much point in buying something that wi ll just sit in my closet forever.”
Mom rifles through the racks behind me. “ If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my too many years of life, it’s that a woman always needs a secret weapon. Sometimes it’s a little black dress, but there’s nothing like a good red number to knock a man off his feet and keep him on his ass.”
“Why would I want to keep any man on his ass?”
“So he can see your shoes, darling.”
“No man will ever care about my shoes, Mom.”
“He doesn’t need to care about your shoes. It’ll just make his life easier if he can see what’s going to be walking all over him for the entirety of your relationship.”
My lips curve upwards. “Then the red number isn’t necessary,” I say almost sadly, the smile dropping from my lips as I drop the sleeve. “I can’t see myself having a relationship any time soon. If ever.”
I shrug a shoulder, and Mom grabs my arm.
“Abigail Jenkins,” she begins , turning me round to her. “One complete and utter bastard does not represent the male race. They might all be a bit stupid sometimes, but Pearce Stevens is most definitely in the minority. One day, you’ll meet someone that will be worth all the effort that comes with having a true, life-changing relationship. It might not be today, it might not be next year, but you will. And when you find him, I expect you to wear this dress with a pair of killer heels and knock him on his ass so hard he can’t sit on anything except for a rubber ring for the next week.”
“Mom …” I roll my eyes.
“No.” She cups my chin, bringing my eyes to hers. “You, baby girl, are stronger than even you know. I can see it in your eyes right now. One day you’ll find a man who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, and he will treat you like the prince ss you
“Is that a good thing?”
I tilt my head to the side and watch her lick her spoon clean. “As long as you don’t do it when we dance.”
She smiles. “I think I can manage that.”
“By the way …” I point my spoon at her. “… You have ice cream all around your mouth.”
She wipes at her lips with her fingers and looks at them, then at me. “No I don’t.” She narrows her eyes.
I grin and stick my spoon in her ice cream again. This time I get a spoonful of ice cream, and I poke my tongue out at Abbi. She half-smirks, staring at me. My eyes flit between her and the spoon, and I slowly move it in her direction. She opens her mouth and closes her lips around the spoon, sweeping the ice cream from it.
“The stealing was utterly pointless,” I say, observing the smeared spoon.
“Oh. Hang on.” She reaches forward and snatches it. She beams at me, and her tongue flicks out. It licks across my spoon, removing every last trace of ice cream, and I can’t focus on anything but that pink tongue sliding back behind even pinker lips. She puts the spoon back into my hand. “Missed a bit.”
My fingers close around it. “Uh huh.”
Chapter Eleven -
Abbi
I finger the material of the red knee-length dress, holding onto the long lace sleeve. My eyes comb over the boat neckline and the lace body, down to the black belt at the waist and the plain skater style skirt. I want this dress – I want it badly. But the sleeves get me.
For so long I haven’t worn anything other than long, solid sleeves that hide the scars that cover the underside of my arms. The white lines stay hidden, my secret from the world. And the problem with the sleeves on this dress is it has holes. Tiny holes, not big enough to see the blemishes marring my pale skin, but they’re still holes.
“Try it on,” Mom urges from behind me. “It’s a lovely dress, Abbi. Very you. Very new you. That color will look lovely with your hair.”
“I don’t know,” I reply, still staring at the sleeve in my hand. “I don’t really have anywhere to wear it. There’s not much point in buying something that wi ll just sit in my closet forever.”
Mom rifles through the racks behind me. “ If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my too many years of life, it’s that a woman always needs a secret weapon. Sometimes it’s a little black dress, but there’s nothing like a good red number to knock a man off his feet and keep him on his ass.”
“Why would I want to keep any man on his ass?”
“So he can see your shoes, darling.”
“No man will ever care about my shoes, Mom.”
“He doesn’t need to care about your shoes. It’ll just make his life easier if he can see what’s going to be walking all over him for the entirety of your relationship.”
My lips curve upwards. “Then the red number isn’t necessary,” I say almost sadly, the smile dropping from my lips as I drop the sleeve. “I can’t see myself having a relationship any time soon. If ever.”
I shrug a shoulder, and Mom grabs my arm.
“Abigail Jenkins,” she begins , turning me round to her. “One complete and utter bastard does not represent the male race. They might all be a bit stupid sometimes, but Pearce Stevens is most definitely in the minority. One day, you’ll meet someone that will be worth all the effort that comes with having a true, life-changing relationship. It might not be today, it might not be next year, but you will. And when you find him, I expect you to wear this dress with a pair of killer heels and knock him on his ass so hard he can’t sit on anything except for a rubber ring for the next week.”
“Mom …” I roll my eyes.
“No.” She cups my chin, bringing my eyes to hers. “You, baby girl, are stronger than even you know. I can see it in your eyes right now. One day you’ll find a man who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, and he will treat you like the prince ss you
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