by Megan Hart
Bangs on boys. There was a fashion statement I was
helplessly squishy over. "Want something on it? A name or
something?"
He flipped open a rack of designs to show me my choices.
I looked through rows of stylized hearts, flowers and fonts.
I touched a simple, elegant alphabet.
"I was thinking…the word slave."
That perked his interest. "For you?"
I laughed. "Oh, no."
"Sweet." He gave the word two sylables.
"You think?" My fingers stroked the stiff leather. It would circle his wrist like a cuff.
I tested it on my own and noted how the edge cut a little
into my skin when I shifted. Not enough to hurt, but I
into my skin when I shifted. Not enough to hurt, but I
knew it was there. I handed it to Emoboy, who took it
over to the machine that stamped the letters. Idly, I flipped
through the rack of designs while he fiddled with buttons
and adjusted the bracelet inside the grips holding it stil.
Then I saw it. "Wait."
He looked up, one finger on the button that would start the
machine. "Huh?"
I gestured for him to come over, and he did, and I pointed
at the picture on the menu. "I want this, instead."
He grinned, then nodded. "No problem."
It took him a minute to adjust the settings and another for
the machine to stamp the leather. When it was done, he
handed it to me with the black leather scarred into the
design I'd chosen. A rose, the stem and thorns made of
barbed wire.
Simple. Elegant. And far more subtle than the word slave,
which didn't feel right, anyway.
"Here you go." He handed me a bag with the bracelet
inside. "Enjoy it."
inside. "Enjoy it."
Enjoy wasn't exactly the word I'd have chosen, but I took
the bag with a smile. Our hands touched, and he grinned.
He knew nothing about me, but he thought he did. And I
discovered I didn't care.
I don't think there's a woman alive who doesn't understand
how the right clothes can entirely change a situation. Under
my simple summer skirt and casual T-shirt I wore the bra
and panties Eric had bought for and sent to his mistress.
The lace and satin clung to my skin and reminded me with
every step how it felt to be desirable.
Of course, none of that showed on the surface. I met him
in the lobby as had become our habit on these semi-dates,
and he greeted me with a smile and a half hug. He wore a
long-sleeved Henley shirt, but when the sleeve rode up I
saw the flat leather strap of his bracelet. The one I'd sent
him. The one that marked him as mine.
"Ready to go?" Eric held the door open for me and we
both went out into the warm spring evening air.
"Starving," I said. "I had my windows open and could
smel the funnel cakes al the way upstairs."
smel the funnel cakes al the way upstairs."
He patted his stomach. "We'l stop there first."
Al along the riverfront, stands had been set up for the first
summer festival. Some sold handmade arts and crafts,
others boasted displays from local companies. Some had
games, the prizes cheap things like water bottles
emblazoned with the names of banks and restaurants. As
summer festivals went, it was one of the less glorious, but
al that realy mattered to me was the food.
Stal after stal of greasy, delicious fair food. Corn dogs,
ice cream, French fries and vinegar to go with them. My
stomach let out a loud, obnoxious rumble as we crossed
Front Street to get to the sidewalk on the other side and
headed to the left to walk about a quarter mile to reach the
rows of booths. Music from one of the local radio stations
blared from a huge boom box set up on a trailer. Morning-
show personalities handed out T-shirts, mugs and key
chains as we passed.
"Do you want something?" Eric asked as I stepped aside
to let a mother pushing a double stroler pass on her quest
for free junk. "T-shirt?"
"No, thanks. I don't listen to that station. And besides, it
"No, thanks. I don't listen to that station. And besides, it
doesn't matter if it's free if I'l never use it."
"Mind if I grab one? You can never have too many T-
shirts."
"Go ahead." I looked at the crowd surrounding the boom
box and estimated how long it would take him to get his
shirt, then down the rows to the line for funnel cakes. "I'l
get in line for the funnel cakes."
We parted and I pushed my way through the crowd. The
prizes might be cheap and the food overpriced, but
nobody seemed to care. Kids carried baloons in ice-
cream-covered fists and couples walked hand in hand. I
got in line behind a couple with matching tattoos on their
wrists, a pair of joined hearts. As I watched them whisper
and giggle, their fingers linked, their eyes for nobody else,
envy roled slowly over in my gut.
Against my skin, lace and satin once again reminded me
how it felt to be wanted. Craved. Obeyed. None of it did
me any good standing here in the setting, early spring sun,
with a ten-dolar bil clutched in my fist and nobody there
to hold my hand.
I looked back through the crowd for Eric but caught only
a glimpse of what might have been the top of his dark,
curly hair. The crowd around the boom box had grown
and the DJ standing on a smal platform with a microphone
in his hand was now announcing some sort of contest. The
line in front of me was moving faster than I'd expected and
I placed my order and walked away with a paper plate of
hot fried dough covered in powdered sugar before the DJ
was even done drawing a winner.
At first look they were just another couple, she in tottery
heels better suited to a pinup-model calendar than a strol
along the river, and him in faded, baggy jeans and a T-shirt
that showed off the muscles in his arms. The reddish
sunlight turned his blond hair auburn, and I blamed that as
the reason that I didn't recognize him at first, but the real
reason was that with another woman on his arm, Austin
had become a stranger.
She, on the other hand, recognized me right away and let
out a squeal that could have cracked a mirror. "Paige!"
Kira. With Austin. My Austin? My teeth clenched,
grinding, in instant reaction, and I couldn't force a smile.
Our eyes met, his and mine, and while I don't know what
Our eyes met, his and mine, and while I don't know what
mine revealed, his showed me he didn't like what he saw.
His expression changed, and I recognized him again.
"Hi." I kept my voice even when I looked at her.
She slid her hand down his bare arm, her fingertips
lingering on the inside of his wrist before diving down to
capture his fingers. Austin didn't pul away, but he didn't
tighten his grip, either. I noticed, and so did she, but Kira
was good at getting what she wanted. She curled her
fingers into his, instead.
"Are you here alone?" Acid didn't drip from her tone. She
sounded genuinely curious.
And who knows, maybe she was. We'd already
established high school was over and our rivalry should
have folowed suit. I'd fucked Jack once upon a time, and
now she was fucking Austin. Tit for tat, literaly. I
should've let it go.
"No. I'm here with a friend." The way I said friend made it clear that's not what I meant.
Oh, I knew the tic of Austin's jaw, the slow narrowing of
his eyes. Kira might be fucking him, but she didn't know
his eyes. Kira might be fucking him, but she didn't know
him. Not the way I did.
She leaned into his arm, and I couldn't get a handle on if
she was being affectionate or cunty, if she was always that
way or if she was trying to work my nerves. I guessed the
latter.
"A boyfriend?" She pushed too hard.
Austin took his hand away to reach for my plate. He
grabbed off a hunk of now-cool funnel cake and ate it.
Powdered sugar coated his lips and he licked each finger
slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.
"Help yourself," I told him. I held the plate out to her.
"Want some?"
Kira wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but there wasn't
realy any way she could've missed Austin's look. She
shook her head. "No. I can't eat that stuff. I'd have to
exercise for a week."
"Paige, you been exercising for a week?" Austin shoved
his hands in his pockets, down deep, and the jeans sunk
lower on his hips to show a strip of tanned bely beneath
lower on his hips to show a strip of tanned bely beneath
his T-shirt.
"No. I'l take my chances." I tore off a piece for myself and bit into the heavy sweetness, then licked sugar from my
fingers, too.
It wasn't nice, what we were doing to her, but it wasn't my
fault she wasn't very good at it. It wasn't my fault he stil
wanted me even after al this time. I looked again for Eric
and spotted him being handed a T-shirt. In a minute he'd
be heading this way. I didn't want to introduce Eric to
Austin.
"Austin and I were going to watch the barge concert. Do
you…do you want to come along?"
I gave her a real look then, my once-upon-a-time best
friend. She didn't try to reach for Austin again, and the
corners of her mouth and eyes drooped. I remembered
how once we'd practiced putting on eyeliner in her
mother's bathroom, and how Kira had been the one to
teach me how to use a tampon when my mother had been
inexplicably too embarrassed. She'd punched a guy in the
nuts for hassling me and lent me her favorite lipstick
without a second thought. She wanted Austin, and I knew
without a second thought. She wanted Austin, and I knew
I should let her have him since I didn't want him anymore.
So, I did.
Chapter 29
"Another time." I spotted Eric closer now, his T-shirt dangling from a front pocket. "I'l catch you guys later."
I left without a backward glance and hurried through the
crowd to get to Eric before he got to me. "Hey."
"Hey." He looked at my half-eaten funnel cake. "Is it good?"
"You can have some." I'd lost my appetite for it.
With a shrug, Eric took a piece and chewed it. "These
always smel better than they taste."
I risked a glance over my shoulder, expecting to see a sea
of strangers. I saw Austin, his face tight, and Kira, staring
up at him. "Yeah. Listen, do you mind if I bug out? I've got
a kiler headache al of a sudden."
Eric's brow furrowed, and he reached to rub the back of
my neck. The gesture, automatic but casual, ought to have
made me feel better, but I wanted to cringe away from his
touch. He gave my neck a gentle squeeze and let go.
"Sure, no problem. I'l walk back with you if you want."
"I don't want to ruin this for you." I didn't look behind us again, just started moving back toward the Manor. I
dumped the funnel cake in the first garbage can I passed.
"Nah. These things are the same as that funnel cake. I'l
walk you back."
I was already walking, but I shot him a glance. "Are you
sure?"
"Paige, realy. Not a problem. Oops, watch it." Eric
reached to steer me away from a puddle of something I
hoped was spiled fruit smoothie and not something
grosser.
His fingers gripped my arm just hard enough to keep me
from stumbling, and my heart thumped harder at the
pressure. Lace and satin pressed my skin beneath my
clothes. He held on a little longer than necessary but let go
sooner than I wanted him to.
In the lobby he checked for mail even though he'd stopped
to peek in the box on the way out. I knew how he felt
when he found nothing but the Tenant Association
when he found nothing but the Tenant Association
newsletter, but he turned to me with a grin anyway.
"Looks like they're planning another barbecue. If it's
anything like last year's the beer wil be warm and the food
cold."
"I wasn't here last year," I reminded as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trash.
"But you'l be here this year, right?" he asked as we both
headed for the elevator. "How's your head, by the way?"
"Oh…I'l be fine. I'm just tired." The lie slipped easily
enough off my tongue, and though Eric gave me a curious
look he didn't press me about it.
When the doors opened on his floor he hesitated before
stepping off, and I wondered if he'd meant to kiss me or
shake my hand. "I'l cal you, okay?"
I nodded and smiled and watched the doors close behind
him before I let the smile slide from my face. My jaw
ached from clenching it. When I got into my apartment I
ran a cold shower and let the icy needles pound my skin
until envy swirled down the drain around my toes.
I blamed the tears on the sting on my scalp as I yanked a
comb through my hair, but when I looked in the mirror I
couldn't avoid my frown. So I turned from the mirror and
puled on a lightweight summer nightgown over my bare,
damp and chily skin.
Jealousy and the funnel cake rested heavy in my stomach,
so I boiled water for tea. The headache I'd made up
became real, though I nipped it quickly with ibuprofen. I
grabbed up the novel I was reading and had just settled on
my sofa when the knock came at the front door.
Expecting Eric, I didn't bother looking through the
peephole. So when I saw Austin framed in the doorway,
al I could do at first was stare. Then I took a step back to
let him in.
His mouth was on mine before either of us said a word.
My book fel to the floor in a flutter of pages, and I kicked
it to the side as Austin stepped me back toward the couch.
I put my hands up between us and pushed him away
before he could get me there.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I swiped the back of
my hand across my lips, smearing the taste of him.
my hand across my lips, smearing the taste of him.
Austin licked his mouth and swalowed, his gaze flicking
around the room. "Is he here?"
"You're lucky he's not. You can't just come in here and
attack me like that."
Austin scraped a hand over the top of his hair, then
cupped the back of his neck briefly, his head bent. He
closed his eyes, brow furrowed. I stepped back when he
opened them.
"He's not here," I said. "But you should go."
He shook his head.
"Austin," I whispered. "You need to go."
Again, he shook his head. Only an arm's span held us
apart, but it might as wel have been a mile. My nightgown
swirled around my knees as I turned. I was very aware of
the pul of cotton on my skin. The lingerie Eric had sent me
had reminded me of how it felt to be desirable, but under
Austin's eyes I didn't need something outside me to know
how it felt for him to want me.
"Paige. Please." His voice snagged, rough and broke.
"Let's stop pretending—"
"I'm not pretending anything." I crossed my arms but kept
my back toward him.
Slow, roling cramps clutched at my bely. When we were
married, Austin had put me to bed with a heating pad
when my cramps were bad. He'd rubbed my back, too,
and gone at night to get me ice cream, no matter how late.
"He's not your boyfriend. Is he? That guy?"
"Is Kira your girlfriend?" I turned on him then.
"Hel, no."
"Are you fucking her?" I advanced a step to poke his
chest, and Austin retreated a step.
"No!"
I laid my hand flat on his chest over the steady thumping of
his heart. I had to tip my head to look at his face. " Did you fuck her?"
He shook his head, just once. I pinched his nipple only half
as hard as I wanted to. He didn't wince, though his tongue
crept out along his lower lip, leaving it glistening. The bead
of flesh pebbled between my fingers, and I roled the pad
of my thumb over his shirt, so soft with the nipple so tight
and hard beneath.
"Did you fuck her?" I repeated softly.
"I didn't fuck her, Paige. I swear it."
He groaned when I pinched his nipple again. When I slid
my hand under his shirt to find his bare skin Austin didn't
stop me. I hadn't expected him to.
My breath hitched at the feeling of his skin under my palm.
I curved my fingers to let my nails bite into him for a
second, then dropped it to his belt buckle. I tugged it hard