Heart Thaw by Liz Reinhardt

Author:Liz Reinhardt [Reinhardt, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-27T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

A party is the last place I want to be tonight.

I feel a frigid sadness when I think of Mom and Georgia curled up crying in bed. I also feel a strange envy.

I don’t want to be brave, putting on a smile and acting like everything is great when nothing is. I don’t want to dance and mingle when I’d much rather crumple into the fetal position and cry. And there’s no way I want to be this close to Trent Toriello while I’m dealing with the fact that I’m going to have to give him up for good.

Even if he might be that good thing right in front of me I never bothered to notice.

Well, I’ve noticed. Damn, I’ve noticed.

“Now this is sexy,” Ella proclaims as I struggle to breathe.

She’s dragged me into her room and is pouring me into an outfit that’s too small, tight, and shiny for me to wear.

“Ella, there’s nothing wrong with what I was wearing,” I protest.

But I’m tired and Ella is relentless. She exhausts me into submission.

She snorts. “That shirt? I wouldn’t wear that to change tires at the shop.”

“Um, I hope not. It’s way too low cut and kind of fancy,” I say as she tosses shoes my way. “Your feet are smaller than mine,” I remind her.

“I know that,” she mutters, tugging at something in the dark recesses of her closet. She yanks twice, then falls out and onto her ass. “Ow! But look!”

“Cute, I guess,” I say, eyeing a pair a high-heeled thigh-high boots that look like something a low class call girl would wear.

“Cute and big enough to fit your monstrous feet!” Ella shakes her head back and forth, making the bells on her hat jingle. “There was this massive sale, and they didn’t have my size, so I just figured I’d stuff my feet into them or whatever. By the way, that doesn’t really work. Anyway, they’re like new.”

“They’re like death-traps,” I moan, but Ella is already pulling my sensible black flats off and pushing my feet into them. “El, how come you get to go looking like a normal sexy person, and I have to go looking like a street walker?”

“We’re both going as our own sexy selves,” Ella says, yanking me up by the elbow and marching me to her disaster of a dresser. She drags open the top drawer and starts pulling out tubes of mascara and lipstick. “Look, Ant’s gonna be there, and she digs the whole ‘soft butch’ thing. I’m a tiny bit more lipstick than her tastes run—”

“Wait a minute.” I put a hand up and grab Ella’s wrist as she’s about to coat my lashes with thick, black mascara. “Antonia wants you to change for her?”

I feel a hot, rageful fury bubble up from low in my gut.

“No!” Ella exclaims way too fast, indicating for me to shut my eyes so she can line them in some incredibly smoky eye pencil. “Not change as in change who I am. It’s

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