different too. My hair was long, hanging almost to my waist. My face was more angular. The girls were more filled out. The shirt Dorian picked out hugged them and the rest of me. Red words were written on it. Reading them made me giggle. Inside a large red box said, “WARNING: I Bite.” In between “warning” and “I bite” was a smile with two fangs and blood dripping off the teeth.
“I can’t wear this,” I said, noticing my cheeks were flushed. For some reason the idea of biting Dorian sent butterflies low in my belly.
Cindy knocked.
“Come in.”
“You look amazing,” Cindy said. I watched her read the shirt. “That’s hilarious. I love it.” She laughed .
I regarded her, stepping back, really checking her out. She’d changed. Her blond hair was shorter, but she was curvier, if that was possible, and elongated. Beautiful. She had on a light pink mini skirt with thick white tights, and black boots that reached her knees. Over a white tank, she had on a bubblegum pink cashmere sweater. In her hair, she wore a plain, silky black ribbon. Her clothes weren’t quite as flashy. Still beautiful and perfectly styled, but subdued. “So do you,” I responded, turning to hug her. It was so good to see her.
We broke apart, and Cindy sniffled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Merde,” she swore in French, dabbing at her eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s about me… and Gabe.” She looked down, fiddling with one of the buttons on her sweater.
I grabbed her hands. “I know. I heard you. It’s—” I paused to really consider my feelings. Yes, I loved Gabe. He was special to me. My first crush, my first love. I should’ve been more upset. Gabe and I, we’d considered going all the way. He’d touched me in a way no other boy had. He’d said he loved me, disobeyed his father for me… because of the way he felt about me. Pain shot through my body. I’d killed his father—Oberon. Whether I had feelings for him or not, Oberon’s death would always stand between us.
I swallowed, planting a smile on my lips. It was better for everyone if Cindy and Gabe were together. Shaking her hands, I said, “It’s okay. Really. I’m happy for the two of you. A powerful witch and a chayot—what a combination.”
She glanced up, worry etched along her brow. “I think I love him, Snow.”
Her words were like a knife in my heart. “Well, then he better be sweet to you. Treat you like the amazing girl you are.” I grabbed a brush from the bathroom counter. I didn’t want her to see I was emotional. Even though I knew the two of the m together was for the best, the idea of Gabe kissing someone else hurt. “I need a haircut.”
She took the brush, and carefully ran it through my wet hair. “A trim, I think. Maybe some blond highlights,” she said gently.
I watched her reflection. Our matching baby blues met in the mirror. It was obvious she felt bad about her and Gabe. Not bad enough to stop seeing him, but at least conflicted. I sighed. “No to the highlights.”
She laughed. “You’re right. You’re hair’s perfect. Sit, and I’ll braid it.” I sat in an ornately cut wooden chair with a tight padded seat cut from the same material as the couch in the bedroom.
A change of subject was in order. “This is Professor Pops house, right?” Without moving my head I glanced around the bathroom—the walk-in shower made of slate tiles accented with white shells. The bathroom walls were pinstriped white and pearl white. Large red towels hung on a heated towel rack next to the shower. Matching hand towels hung to either side of the double sinks set in a black marbled countertop. The toilet was behind its own door, which was closed. A large tub with silver jets was under a window. Next to the tub was a tall white shelf filled with extra towels, bath salts, bubbles, and other toiletries.
“Yeah.” She wrapped the ends of my hair in an elastic . “How about some red?” Without waiting for
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley