Page 42 of Scars Like Wings

I went over to her bathroom drawers. It took a few tries before I finally found an old pack of makeup wipes. Steam was beginning to roll from the shower, so I had to wipe the mirror to look at myself in the mirror and make sure I was getting all the makeup off. Looking at myself, I saw that my lip gloss was now non-existent, and my lips were swollen from that kiss. Once my face was clear, I got undressed, folded my clothes on the counter, and jumped into the shower. It was just as luxurious as I imagined, and I was grateful for the scald of the water.

I washed the party away while I let my mind stray. I was positive to a fault, something that sometimes drove those I loved crazy. I constantly tried to find the good in every circumstance. Even this party that I didn’t want to go to, I still tried to find something to look forward to: booze, hanging out with my besties, dancing for a little bit, and people watching. I expected to have nothing to report as far as events, just like it always was. Nothing exciting ever happened to me.

That changed tonight. Quinn was the last thing I expected. I never would have guessed she would haveliterallyfallen into my life like this. I liked her. Being with her just felt so easy, it was effortless. Our companionship. Our jokes. Our flirting. Oh, and the kisses? Quinn’s dominance? I was obsessed with a woman who could just take control. It’s why I read dark and monster romances regularly. Even with that one kiss, Quinn had turned me on more than anyone else had before, fictional or real. I couldn’t imagine what else she could do.

But I had been down this road before.

I had made instant connections with girls in the past. We had talked for hours on end. They hadseemedinterested. They had painted a vision for me to fall in love with, and I would give my all to it, laying myself bare. But it was just an idea, as I would discover when they disappeared. No text. No call. No email. Nothing. Just a ghost, the death of potential for me to grieve, and questions. Would I ever find the one? Did that exist for me? Could I find happiness in being alone despite the deep sadness the thought brought me? When would all this hurt end?

On the third day of radio silence from the last girl who ghosted me after the second date, I had sworn to myself between tears and my fourth glass of wine since waking up at two p.m. that I would never fall in love with an idea again. I couldn’t allow my optimism to cloud my judgment and awareness to the point where I got attached and opened myself to hurt. My heart couldn’t take it. It had been shattered already, and the cracks were filled with liquid gold despite the missing pieces. I couldn’t risk another dent, or she might break for good.

So, as much as I liked Quinn and I could see my imagination run wild with what we could be, I just wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow it.

No amount of positivity could cloud that reality.

So, I wouldnotfall for Quinn Garcia.

Resolved, I turned the water off and got out. The floor was heated as I stepped out and even the towel was warm as I wrapped it around me—I guess from the towel bar. This bathroom was even more wild than my own, but I did make a mental note to see if we could get these added to my condo.

I opened the bathroom door, the steam coming out like clouds in a storm rolling in. I did indeed find my bag sitting on the bed. The mirror was already clearing up now that the steam had an escape. Standing before the mirror, I did a quick version of my facial routine. I put on a very light beat: a fierce cat eye sharp enough to kill a man, a voluminous mascara, a rosy blush on my nose and cheeks, plenty of sparkles everywhere, and a matte orange-brown lip. I set it, and my face was officially ready, simple yet magical.

Next, I put on a black mesh bodysuit with a built-in balconette bra with lacy designs over my nipples. This alone was a showstopper with how it lifted my large F-cup breasts to be front and center, but with how the thong made my ass look even fatter? It was chef’s kiss. My obsidian pendant paired nicely as it laid in between my boobs near my sternum and underboob tattoo you could peep through the bodysuit’s mesh. I jumped into some light, ripped high-waisted straight-leg jeans that let even more tattoos peek through. I put on my socks, and pulled my white and black Doc Martens out. I topped the whole thing off with a maroon corduroy shacket. I packed everything in my bag, grabbed my boots, and left both the ensuite and bedroom.

Back in the living room, I could hear Demi Lovato’sHoly Fvckalbum blasting from behind the closed door of the guest room. So, Quinn must still be in there. I sat my bag and my Docs down near the front door. Clarkson materialized from nowhere with a squeaking PBJ sandwich toy that she immediately booped my chin with. Obsessed with this dog already, I finagled the toyfrom her and tossed it across the room. She chewed it a bit before trotting back over to make me start the whole thing over.

I had accidentally tossed it a bit under the couch, so while I was waiting for her to wiggle her cute butt underneath to get it, I glanced around. When we had first entered the Barn, I had thought it was immaculate. Sobered and curious now, I saw the small touches that really made this place Quinn’s. There were built-in bookshelves around the mounted television full of romances, classic novels likeThe Giver, and celebrity memoirs. From my spot in the middle of the living room, I could immediately spot Tina Turner’s, Tina Fey’s, and Jennifer Lewis’s memoirs. But I also noticed how much Colleen Hoover occupied her shelves, which was strange alongside Sister Souljah, Zane, and other black smutty romances and even the Fifty Shades of Grey series. Oh, the girl hadrange. The front door had a shoe rack full of very expensive sneakers that would have made Everett swoon. In the kitchen, I noticed bouquets of fresh herbs growing in one of those fancy indoor planters and bowls on the counter full of fresh fruits and vegetables. The laundry room even had a walk-in dog bath area for Clarkson. The more I saw of Quinn the more I felt I was learning about someone I always had known, like reading a book where you know the ending but you just love the world and characters too much to stop turning the page.

Byrd, you aren’t supposed to fall for her, remember?

Clarkson returned with the toy just when Quinn stepped out of the guest room. Her curls were weighed down with water from the shower, but they were already dry enough not to drip onto her clothes. Speaking of, she wore a navy shirt that was somehow both tight and loose, jeans that fit her in all the right places, socks, and a backwards hat on top of her drying curls. It was simple, but I liked it.Especiallythe jeans. My heart skipped, but it started full-on twerking when I saw Quinn giving me asimilar appraising look from head-to-toe. Her hazel eyes were still that dark honey I wanted to put in every cup of tea I drank.

Don’t fall for her, Byrd. Stay strong!

“You look sexy as fuck, sweets. I thought nothing could beat the Paramore shirt.”

I laughed, but I could feel my face heat. How could we bethisattracted to each other so quickly? I had never had such chemistry with anyone before, especially being demisexual. Gods above and below, I was so fucked. I might as well just buy a plot of land and prepare my gravestone:Here lies Byrd, the girl who died of a broken heart caused by fantasies and delusions.

“You don’t look so bad yourself there, stud,” I said.

“Really? Did you peep the hat?” Quinn turned like an excited kid to show me her hat. Against the black of the hat, there was large cursive embroidery with one word:Titties.

I cackled. “You areincredible, starlight!”

Quinn turned back around, absolutely cheesing at my compliment.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one totally screwed here. I wasn’t sure if that reassured me or made me even more nervous.

When Quinn and I got inside, we found that the whole mansion was—without exaggeration—an objective disaster.

There was so much glitter and confetti on the floor you could hardly see the hardwood. Shoes, purses, phones, and other stray items lay abandoned on the floor and furniture.Cups, empty bottles, and butts of spent cigarettes and blunts were strewn in corners and along the walls. People were knocked out everywhere and anywhere they could find a place to lay their heads. Quinn’s and my footfalls echoed off the walls. Upstairs, I saw the DJ packing away his equipment. Behind the bar, I saw Jesse and the other bartenders cleaning the bar. Even from here, I could see how wet and gross it was.

“Wow, this place is awreck,” I noticed.

“This is actually pretty tame.”

I looked at Quinn incredulously. “It’s been worse?!”

Quinn smirked. “Somuch worse. We have found some gross stuff in corners of the room and on the ceiling before.”