Free False Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 7) by Breena Wilde

look down, studying them. “They were a gift. I think they’re pretty, don’t you?” I can’t tell Jessica I wear them to feel close to Zane, to let him know I want him in my life, that I want him to come back to me.
    “Sure, they’re pretty.” She shrugs and gets to work streaking black wash-out hair dye in her hair. “They just don’t seem like your style. They’re too… what’s the word?” She snaps her fingers several times.
    I ignore her and put some blush on the apples of my cheeks.
    “Pretentious,” she finishes.
    I glance over. “They are not. They’re classy.”
    “Yeah, maybe if you’re fifty.” She sprays on some hairspray and puts on my lipstick and dabs it with a tissue. She leans against the counter, her focus on me.
    “You’re twenty-one.” She takes the pearls between her fingers. “Zane? Right. He seems like the pretentious asshole type.”
    I carefully remove the pearls from her hand and cling to them. They might not be the style of Cadence the Hooker, but they’re totally the style of Cadence, Business Owner. Plus, they make me feel special. I like them.
    “Please tell me you aren’t choosing him over Cruze. He’s bad news.” She starts throwing her makeup back in her bag. “He had one of his goons break down our door and drag you off to who knows where. He…” She touches my shoulder and I turn to face her. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
    I sigh and nod. I get where she’s coming from. She’s a good friend. “When I’m with him I don’t feel like a whore. I feel like a person worth loving.” Tears well in my eyes and I clear my throat, forcing them away. “He’s never brought up what I did for a living.” I grasp her shoulders. “He believes in me, in my abilities as a person. He really sees me.” I drop my hands, turn back to the mirror, and apply a coat of bright red lipstick, then cover it with shiny gloss. “Does that make sense?” I finally ask.
    She’s staring at me. Her face is serious, and she isn’t saying anything. She crosses her arms. “You love him,” she whispers quietly.
    My heart starts to pound rapidly. Is what I’m feeling: love? My heart soars with one answer. Yes. To Jessica, I smile and say, “I adore him.”
    She pulls me into a hug. “My baby is growing up.” She sniffles and I laugh. “I never thought this day would come.” She holds me at a distance and looks in my eyes. I swear she’s reading the hieroglyphics on my soul, the ones that tell a truth I’m not willing to share with anyone—even myself. “He’s a lucky guy.”
    I hug her again, mostly because I don’t want to cry, and seeing the happiness on her face makes me want to happy-cry. But I can’t. Because there’s nothing to happy-cry about. Zane is gone. Maybe not for good, but he isn’t letting himself be with me. And it hurts.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    The limo lets Jessica and me out at the curb near the entrance to Studio 45. It’s a little after ten, but there’s already a line around the block. Jessica told her friends to wait in line until we arrive. As soon as we step out of the car, several familiar faces leave the line and walk over.
    The night is overcast, but warm. A slight breeze ruffles my hair and I get goose bumps.
    Tonight is going to be special , I think, rubbing my arms.
    The bass coming from the club is loud even from the street. People are moving to the beat, talking and laughing. The whole vibe is exciting. Several of those in line are smoking and I catch a whiff. For some reason it reminds me of Cruze.
    “Ready?” Jessica asks, giving me a once over. I had let my hair dry naturally and then used a curling iron to give it some curl, giving it a softness to contrast with my bright red lips, dress and heels.
    “Fuck yeah,” I say with a smile.
    Hand in hand we walk up to the bulky bouncer. He looks like a young Dwayne Johnson but meaner, if that’s possible.
    Jessica leans in close. “We’re the Norton party.”
    He doesn’t