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I smiled. “You mean a lot a bit?”
“Shut up.”
I laughed softly. “If he makes a move and you want it, then let it happen. You know how Michael is. If he wants something, he’ll initiate it. And if you’re not ready, tell him that. But, don’t sit there with your arms crossed over your chest or some shit like that. Just be open. Be you, because that’s all he wants.”
She giggled. “I can do that.”
“Promise?”
“Yep. I promise.”
“Good. Now, I have to go. I still need to put myself together before Clint gets here. I expect a call in the morning telling me all about this movie!”
“If we watch it.”
I gasped. “Allison!”
She laughed heartily into the phone. “Love you, mean it!”
My jaw fell open in shock as she hung up the phone. Did my little Allison just make a comment about not actually watching a movie with a guy? Holy hell, my little girl was becoming all grown up.
“Wait to go, girl.” I smiled to myself as I tossed the phone back onto my bedside table. Then I walked over to my mirror and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame some of the frizz. My cheeks were still red from rushing around, but the sweating had stopped. I made my way back into my mother’s bathroom and found some of her body spray, so I decided to take some liberties.
And those liberties led into other trials. Other experiments. Other curiosities.
Soon, I smelled like something called ‘cotton blossom’ and looked like a damn clown. I turned on the hot water, splashing it in my face and trying to get it all off. Some of the makeup didn’t actually come off. The mascara didn’t run. The blush didn’t budge. I gawked in the mirror as I scrubbed at my face, putting as much hand soap on my skin as I could manage.
Then, I looked down at the makeup I’d tried and groaned.
“Holy fuck, it’s waterproof.”
I searched around in the drawers for something to take this shit off. And through it all, I lost track of time. I finally found some makeup remover and doused it on a washcloth, hoping it was enough. I wiped it over my face and the makeup magically came off. Like a key slipped into just the right door. I breathed a sigh of relief as I scraped the putty off my face. Layer by layer, cursing myself for being so damn stupid.
Then, with my face redder and puffier than ever, a knock came at the door downstairs.
Just. Fuck.
26
Clinton
“So, do you want to go ahead and do the evaluation? Or do it tomorrow?”
I paused, wiping the sweat off my brow. “I mean, if we can knock that shit out now, sure.”
The therapist chuckled. “All right. Well, go ahead and stand up for me. I’m going to run you through a series of tests.”
“You mean, more torture.”
He grinned. “If you need a breather—”
I held up my hand. “No, no. I got it. Just… let me finish my water.”
I’d be damned if I’d let this fucking accident get the best of me. I’d been going at this physical therapy hard. Harder than ever before. I did all these exercises when I wasn’t in my therapy classes. Two, sometimes three times a fucking day. I refused to let it beat me. I refused to be crippled for the rest of my life. I refused to never feel the rumbling of a bike between my legs again. Or feel the wind wrapping around my body as I cruised down the highway.
I mean, Dad and Cecilia weren’t on board for something like that yet. But I was trying.
“All right, Doc. Hit me with it.”
