Chapter1
Swearing Off The D
GOLDIE
“Iam beautiful. I am capable. And I am swearing off men—mage, fae, and human alike,” I announce.
"If you can actually do that," Cinder retorts in her usual deadpan tone. I shoot a quick glare over my shoulder at my friend.
Everyone’s a freaking critic.
The warm hues of the early morning slide past the windows of the car as our little trio drives in the direction of my new destiny. Driving from Boston into the suburbs, the trees multiply, explosions of greenery that signal summer is in full swing.
"Really? No men, at all?” Red's light gray eyes flicker with skeptical mirth, even as they stay fixed on the road. “Not even the ones that look like princes but turn out to be warty, nasty toads?” Her voice is raspy. I’d kill for that seductive huskiness. The red of her sweatshirt matches the brilliant crimson of her hair that earned her the nickname.
"I mean it, this time,” I stress. “No more being blinded by good hair and flattery.” Frustration and vulnerability seep into my voice. "It's not like I want to date all these losers. But every time I meet someone new, all I see is potential." A wistful sigh escapes me.
Apopaccompanies the round lollipop exiting Cinder’s mouth. “You do tend to see the best in people. Even when they have red flags exploding out their butt from the get-go."
I adjust the top of my bubblegum pink top before nervously twirling a blonde curl to keep it bouncy. Though we are not speaking his name, I know they both are expecting me to get back together with Lawrence.
We’ve been on and off again for the last six months, and when we’re off, I am like a serial dating machine until Lawrence comes sniffing around again. But I’m not going to fall for it again.
Lawrence has been ‘voluntarily unemployed’ since I’ve known him, always complaining bitterly about how he’s too smart for a nine-to-five job.
Initially, I’d been drawn to his dreams about starting his own business. He painted big, beautiful pictures of his future with his words.
His castles in the air match mine. I have big dreams of err. . . having big dreams.
Like with men, I tend to bounce around with ideas of what’s going to fulfill my ultimate destiny. I jumped majors at Boston University four times. I went from the department of microbiology of Fae beings, to Magic historical studies, before broadening to business then architecture. That doesn't even include my dabbling in cosmetology, a yoga teacher training, or the countless applications I’ve sent to reality TV dating shows.
Whenever I get swept up in the rush of excitement over either a guy, or a new business venture, it always wears off almost as soon as it starts.
I decided to take the semester off so I could sort out exactly what the faefucks I was doing before wasting my hard-earned bar tips on more college credits I may not even use.
Lawrence’s barbs from last week came hurling at me from my subconscious. “You are vapid, flaky, and you bend yourself to be liked by everyone just to make up for the fact you look like a fat, slutty Barbie doll.”
Spears of pain shoot through my stomach, jabs that hit on the bullseye of my own insecurities.
My hands fist into the fabric of my pants. I amnotgoing to get sick in Red’s car.
It’s not the first time I’d heard such insults. They’d long ago burrowed under my skin, becoming a part of me until I didn’t know if I’d learned to live with burrs sticking into my soul or if I'd made friends with the prickly demons.
With a sniff, I adjust my top and curls again. At least he got the Barbie part right. I remind myself she could doanythingwhile rocking pink. I was the edgier version with tattoos and pleather, but maybe I could also be a doctor, an astronaut, and a dog walker at the same time.
Or something far more magical,my subconscious whispers. I wave the thought away, trying to ground myself in the here and now instead of getting swept up in possibilities.
In the time I dated Lawrence, I hadn’t witnessed him make a single damn thing other than smoke weed and wax poetic about how he isn’t appreciated in a traditional business world.
Then last week we ran into one of his old bosses, and it turned out his unemployment wasn’t voluntary at all. In minutes, the run-in turned into a red-faced screaming match between the two where it all spilled out onto the sidewalk. Turns out Lawrence was canned for being an “entitled douchebag.”
In the aftermath, I stroked Lawrence’s ego, trying to get him back on his feet. He could achieve all his dreams if he took the first step, and I’d be right there to help him.
Next thing I know, I’m the bad guy.
Lawrence exploded that he would have started his business already if it weren’t for my neediness.
Apparently, asking to see him more than once a week, show up on time to anything, or not flirt with other women was ‘needy.’
