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I've never called another woman that, but it rolls off my tongue easily,playfully.
Daisy turns. My best friend's eyes are normally dark-rimmed, her lips the color of plums. Today, those lips are slicked red like the dress, and I can’t decide which is more worthy of myattention.
So I stare at both, feeling like a bull preparing tocharge.
She looks me over head to toe before her expression dissolves into a smile. "You madeit."
She throws her arms around me, and I force myself to keep up and remember the keyinformation.
Friend.
Safe.
Hug.
Warm.
But whether it's the long-ass day or Holt's aggravation or the fact that now that I’ve let myself look at Daisy like a woman, it’s hard to turn it off, and my body processes other sensory data as she presses againstme.
Voice.
Tits.
Smell.
Close.
“Kendall and Rena went to the bathroom,” she murmurs against my shoulder, oblivious to my sudden descent intobarbarism.
“I thought women had to go in packs.” I pullback.
“They’re notwolves."
No, they’re not. But tonight, I feel likeone.
"Tris said you’re in a badmood.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I check her out again. “I want to talk about thisdress.”
With her hair razored to a sharp edge, shorter at the back than the front and in a straight curtain, her lips painted red to match, and wicked heels, she’s a goddess. A beautiful creature designed to steal a man’s soul, to reduce him to ash with alook.
“Thank you. My boyfriend bought it forme.”
Her voice is laced with irony, but I don’t even care. I grin. “Damnstraight.”
“It was gratuitous. And unnecessary.” She sighs, running her hands down the fabric. “And I kind of loveit.”
Satisfaction swells in my chest, like an animal stretching. “That makes two ofus.”
“You look nicetoo.”
“I changed afterwork.”
“For me?” Her eyes widen in pleasedsurprise.
"Yes." I order a G&T from the bartender, then raise my glass and toasther.
She takes a long drink of hers. “Tris said you got him something special for his birthday but wouldn’t saywhat.”
