Fatal Beauty by Andrews Nazarea

Author:Andrews, Nazarea [Andrews, Nazarea]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: A&A Literary
Published: 2015-10-10T07:00:00+00:00

*

They need the time, to regroup. To breathe. That’s what EJ tells herself in the morning when she crawls out of bed. That they need the break—from the tension, from the constant motion, from fear. She’s being reckless and stupid—even now, with the stale taste of Jaeger in her mouth and the feel of Karla too real against her fingers, she knows it.

Last night was a stupid mistake. She rubs her eyes and pushes her hair out of her face, and wanders out of the partitioned bedroom in search of coffee or Charlie.

She finds the former in the kitchen, which is silent and empty. A nibble of curiosity makes her wonder where Paxton is, before it’s gone.

“Charlie?”

Her voice echoes around her as she searches the loft.

She finds her in the bathroom, in a bath drawn to the edge of the wide stainless steel tub, the water frothed with bubbles. A candle is burning next to her, with low music, and her eyes are closed. EJ hesitates in the doorway, not sure if she should intrude. The conversation she overheard last night comes back to her, and she is—for the first time in she can’t remember how long—uncertain about her place. Her role. It’s a disconcerting feeling, one she doesn’t much care for, and tightens her lips.

“Don’t lurk,” Charlie says, “it’s creepy.”

She makes a soft laugh, a weak thing. “I’m not lurking. I’m just not sure you want me around.”

Charlie moves, sitting up enough that she can look at EJ, her shoulders and the slope of her breasts exposed above the water. “When have you ever been unsure about anything?” she asks, an eyebrow raised.

“More often than you would think,” EJ admits and comes deeper into the bathroom. She perches on the windowsill by the tub and stares at her friend. “Are you mad at me?” she asks, finally, when the silence stretches out too long.

Charlie shakes her head. “I don’t know, EJ. I just—I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know why. It all seemed like a dream, back home, and it was easier to let Jacobs fix it than to face the consequences. But now—now the bruises are faded and the body is gone and what the hell are we doing? How did we end up here?”

That is the question. Except that she’s been headed to this point her entire life. Since that first afternoon in the park.

“You can go home.” EJ says, and she is proud of herself, that her voice comes out steady, without any inflection or the bone crunching fear that grips her when she thinks about Charlie disappearing from her life.

When the hell had this blonde ice queen with her southern drawl and bitchy attitude slipped so firmly into her life?

“Do you want me to go?” Charlie asks, eyeing her.

EJ flushes and shrugs. “It’s your choice.”

Charlie makes a low disbelieving noise. “That’s not the question. Of course it’s my choice. It’s always been my choice. But I’m asking what you want. Would you be happy if I left and went back to my father’s home?”

No.

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