Thin (Sharing Spaces #3) by Alicia Michaels

Author:Alicia Michaels [Michaels, Alicia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marion Press
Published: 2016-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I woke up the next day with a headache and puffy eyes. After a restless night, I didn’t exactly feel up to facing anyone, but knew I didn’t have a choice. It was family day, and my parents and friends would be coming a long way to see me. It was also Saturday, which meant Royce wouldn’t be around. Despite a pounding headache and the shame of embarrassment that had me wanting to lock myself in my room for the remaining sixty days, I could at least be grateful I wouldn’t have to face him. Yet.

My weekend nurse came and went with my morning meds, retreating to the nurse’s station to find me some aspirin once I informed her of my headache. After a shower and breakfast, I felt a little more like myself. Going back to my room after eating, I decided to take some time to actually style my hair and put on some makeup. Halfway through running a flatiron over my hair—which had begun to revert back to its natural curls—Dawn appeared in the doorway of our bathroom, dressed in her customary oversized sweatshirt and sneakers, hair piled on top of her head.

“Well, look at you,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “One would think you’ve got a hot date instead of a reunion with your parental units.”

I shrugged, keeping my gaze on the mirror and red-hot iron in my hands. “Just wanted to look nice for a change.”

“You do look cute,” she muttered grudgingly. “Methinks that others will think so as well.”

I snorted. “Like who? Derek?”

Darting a glance at her from the corner of my eye, I watched as a devilish smile spread across her smile.

“I was thinking someone else … a certain sexy counselor.”

My heart began to pound, sending a surge of adrenaline through me and causing my hands to shake. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I could hardly breathe. Did Dawn know something? Had she seen us at some point?

Putting down the flatiron, I ran my fingers through my straightened locks. I told myself that I was overreacting. Of course she hadn’t seen anything—until last night there hadn’t been anything to see and we’d most certainly been alone in the studio last night.

I forced a confused expression onto my face, and a laugh. “Girl, what are you talking about?”

“Right. Pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I think we both know you aren’t spending so much time in the art studio because you have nothing better to do.”

She was only half right. I had enjoyed rediscovering painting, but part of me knew she had hit the nail on the head when it came to Royce. I was spending so much time in a space he also happened to occupy because it made me feel better. Still, I couldn’t exactly admit that to her.

“Actually, I’m just doing it to annoy my mother,” I said, reaching for my makeup bag. “She thinks painting is a waste of time.”

Not exactly a lie. My mom’s

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