Page 16 of Unleashed By Eden

The irony of Liam trying to give the wise older brother speech while his party vibrates downstairs is not lost on me, but the weird thing is, he means it.

After a long pause, I nod, more to myself than to him.

He gives me a quick smile. “Good.” He squeezes my ankle and stands. “You want me to kick everyone out? I will.”

I shake my head. “They’re your friends.”

“Yeah, and you’re my sister.” He holds my gaze for a second. When I don’t change my mind, he dips his head and leaves, closing the door behind him.

The room goes quiet except for the muffled thump of music through the floor. I sit there in the silence, cheeks still damp, and look at my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. All I see is a girl who tried to be someone else and got shoved back into place.

The eyeliner is still where I left it on my dresser, waiting.

I get up and cross the room. Dragging the pencil along my lashes, I make a thick line and stretch the corner out into a sharp little wing. Then the other eye. With each stroke, my shoulders start to drop, my jaw unclenches. It’s ridiculous that two black lines make me feel more like myself, but they do.

The dress comes off in one furious motion. I toss it onto the floor and pull on my ripped black jeans, my baggy band tee, and chunky boots. When I look back in the mirror, I recognize the girl staring back at me.

I wipe the last of my tears from under my eyes with my thumb. “Happy birthday, bitch,” I whisper to my reflection.

Back downstairs, the party is in full swing. This time, nobody turns when I step into the living room. I slip through the crowd unnoticed, which is somehow both a relief and its own kind of ache.

I pour myself another drink, lighter on the vodka this time, and lean against the wall, letting the music thrash around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carter near the front door. He has his guitar case slung over his shoulder, the girl I don’t recognize hovering close, gearing up to leave with him.

He pauses on the threshold, says something that makes her giggle, then turns his head scanning the room. His eyes move past the cluster of football jocks, the girls dancing on the coffee table, and land on me. He takes in my eyeliner, the jeans, the boots, and his lips tilt. He peels away from her, weaving through the bodies until he’s in front of me.

“Happy birthday, Vi.” Up close, I can smell his cologne and a hint of beer on his breath.

“Thanks.” I stare down at my cup, suddenly fascinated by the plastic.

“You’re beautiful just the way you are, kiddo.”

It’s a pat on the head dressed up as a compliment. Part of me greedily soaks it up anyway.

I hold my breath as he steps closer. He bends down, and for a millisecond my brain glitches, throwing up a flash of something impossible: his mouth on mine, his hand in my hair, every movie kiss I have ever imagined starring us.

His lips brush my forehead. The gesture is warm but utterly, painfully platonic.

Then he’s gone, loping back to the door. The girl weaves her arm through his, and they spill out into the night.

I stay where I am, pressed against the wall, plastic cup loose in my grip, forehead still tingling from that nothing kiss. The disappointment of it sinks down deep, past skin and bone, into a place I don’t have words for yet.

Just a kid. As if.

Beautiful just the way you are.

And still, not nearly enough.

Chapter six

Violet

Aguitar riff cuts through the chatter, smooth and unmistakable, and my spine pulls straight.

“You’re the thought that won’t leave me alone.”

A smooth voice fills the Eden dressing room, threading through the music. It drags a line of goosebumps up my arms. It’s ridiculous how fast that voice yanks the past up by the throat.

“Can we turn that off?” I blurt.