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I notice she has more tattoos than she used to. She’s wearing sleeves, though I can see one peeking from under the collar of her plain black hoodie and creeping up her neck. Another one leaks onto her hand. She’s the same, yet different.
It’s her eyes…her eyes are not the same. The blue is as dark as it used to be, that midnight blue that sucks your soul in. And the secrets? The trauma? It was already there. But there’s something else in them I couldn’t put a word on. It’s…wild. Almost unhinged.
My eyes are reliving her all over again, but my heart hasn’t forgotten anything. It’s beating frantically against my ribcage. It’s dying to feel her own heart beat.
“I’m gonna need you to say something,” she finally whispers.
She’s just as speechless as I am.
“You look taller,” I finally drop in a breathless croak. Tears are pricking my eyes and a slew of emotions are flooding me. I missed her so much, there’s a heaviness in my stomach that is slowly uncoiling, and I don’t know how to react. I want to hug her, but Conor is somewhere in this room and I don’t want him to see my reaction.
“I am taller.” She winks at me, and my whole world lights up again. I missed her cheekiness. Those winks she always used to throw my way to put me at ease.
“No way,” I giggle. This feels too good. It feels incredible, and I can’t believe how easily I’ve fallen back into being attracted to her, like a teenage girl having her first crush.
“They measured my height at the hospital. I’ve added a full inch to my collection. Do you like it?” She does a slow turn and smiles.
“I like it, all five-foot-eleven of you.”
“I like your new hair,” she replies in that low, raspy voice of hers. My whole body lights up with goosebumps at her compliment.
I was always blonde, but I now bleach it practically white. I’ve shortened it too. It reaches mid-neck, giving me a less innocent look than the one I had in high school.
“Thanks,” I smile as I put my hair behind my ears. It makes her grin because she knows. She knows she still has the same effect on me.
“No fucking way.” Conor’s voice makes me jump out of my Rose bubble. “A ghost,” he chuckles as he settles beside me, wrapping his hand around my hip possessively as he shoots Rose a nasty look.
I cut him off before he can make this worse. “Rose, you remember Conor.” I gently try to pry his fingers off my hip, but he only tightens his grip and brings me closer to him. I look at Rose. “Conor’s my…” Shame engulfs me. This is going to burn my throat coming out. “My boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” he corrects. “That’s right.” He grabs Rose’s shoulder like she’s his football teammate and shakes her slightly. It makes him look a bit ridiculous since she’s taller than him. “You snooze, you lose. Sorry.”
Did he just say, ‘you snooze, you lose’ to a girl who’s been kidnapped?
“Conor,” I gasp. “I’m so sorry.” These are the words I repeat every single time we go to a party.
He drinks, says something inappropriate, and I spend my nights apologizing on his behalf.
“So…you guys are together now?” she asks for confirmation. She’s so calm I barely believe she asked the question. Conor says yes again, but she ignores him, her night eyes on me. “You. You’re dating a dude…”
I simply nod, my own gaze avoiding hers, eyes darting to the drinks on the table next to us.
Is she going to be mad? I know Rose, she’s incredibly possessive, and if there’s one thing she’s never been capable of sharing…it’s me. No matter how muchIshared her with others. I take a sip of my drink to avoid giving her an actual answer. She knows now, anyway.
She chuckles. “Shit, Rach, you should have mentioned you haven’t orgasmed in two years. I’m sorry.”
My drink is out of my mouth in record time, spitting my sip on Rose as I desperately try not to choke and laugh at the truth she just dropped. My bruised ribs are killing me, but it feels good to genuinely laugh again. Even if I have to hide it.
“What the fuck,” Conor drunkenly growls. God, he’s so ridiculous.
Rose’s lips twitch as she assesses the drink that’s been spat on her hoodie.
“I’m sorry!” I grab a napkin, and I’m on her in a split second, dabbing at her piece of clothing.
Conor is forced to let go of me as I try to clean her up. My fingers press against her chest, and I don’t even pull away. This all feels a little too natural. When I look up, she’s not even looking at me or the barely visible stains. No, her gaze is drilled into Conor’s. Her smug smile is back and she’s raising an eyebrow at him.
I can almost hear her say,looks like your fiancée knows exactly who she belongs to.
When I pull away, Conor grabs me again. “All right, we can’t even see anything. She’s fine.”
