Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
He rotates me one-eighty. “Think we might need to fix the front before the back.”
I face him and cup the bust of the glittery lilac dress to my chest. It tries to fall off my boobs. Strips of tied fabric are supposed to fasten the front together, but when the seventeen buttons popped along my spine, the front unraveled. He starts knotting the straps across my chest, yanking them tighter.
“I could just throw a T-shirt over it,” I say. “I can ask Kinney to grab me one.”
“What about your bell sleeves?”
“I’ll cut them off.”
“Cut off the one part you love the most? Nah, that’s not happening.”
It’s not like he’s wearing anything fancy. He has on a Van Halen shirt I gifted him years ago and jeans. My eyes flash to the clock on a makeup vanity.
He grins down at me. “Losing faith already?” He yanks again, and I bump closer to his chest, my breath jettisoning. His knuckles brush along the crevice between my breasts, and electric currents tingle from my arms to my toes.
Donnelly’s touch never grows old. I doubt it could.
My cheeks warm. “I have faith in you. Just not so much the dress. It’s a slippery beast.”
“That’s ‘cause it wants to slip off you when you’re around me.”
I smile wider. “Is it a jealous dress?”
He drops his voice. “Or it’s helping a human out and knows exactly how I want you.”
“In the unearthly flesh.”
Donnelly looks enamored with me, and I breathe in deeper. Our eyes veer more than once to a wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. The doors to it are closed.
Then I crane my head over my shoulder. Looking back at the mirror, the gaping slit exposes my shoulder blades and spine. He’s torn off the buttons. “I kinda like the backless look.”
“Yeah? I was gonna safety pin it.”
“No, don’t.” I never thought I’d love a tattoo more than the galaxy on my thigh that Donnelly created, but the artwork along my spine always steals my breath when I catch sight of it.
Constellations all woven together, each a different color. Green stars connect to form Sagittarius, then violet lines and starbursts make up Leo. A colorful star system belonging solely in my universe. I could spend hours gazing at the steady, sharp lines and how the stars touch different spots of my back. I love when Donnelly kisses along each one.
I know time is slipping faster, and this is an hourglass we can’t turn over. Time has always been a funny thing to me. Overlapping, tangled, blurred lines of now and then.
I can’t really know if I was able to remember everything I lost, but I felt comfortable enough to finally read my diary myself. Bits and pieces that I wrote seemed foggy and faded, and maybe that was amnesia, or maybe we all forget the little details unless we write them down.
Still, I find myself wanting to steal minutes and seconds, to press pause sometimes. To extend a moment into infinity.
I face forward again and watch Donnelly tighten the laces near my belly button. His forearm flexes, and black ink among his spindling veins spells out: El-Rey
My stomach somersaults at a thought. “I forgot the metallic markers.” I wince. “I must’ve left them back in Philly on the kitchen counter.”
Donnelly is still focused on my dress. “They’re in your bag.”
“What?” I frown.
“I got ‘em, boss babe.” He flashes a smile at me, and my lips lift in reply.
Yeah. He keeps me from floating away most days. I’m not CEO of Fizzle yet. But after graduating with an MBA, Uncle Stokes named me Chief Marketing Officer. The same position he once filled a long, long time ago. Donnelly has been by my side each step of the way, always reinstilling his belief in me every time my own slips.
Some days are harder than others. But I chose two careers, knowing this path was going to be filled with bumps and potholes. All that matters is that I believe in myself. That I can. That I will.
“And we’re done.” Donnelly steps back. “Take a twirl, space babe.”
I spin on my sneakers, the shimmery fabric fluttering around me. And then I twirl right into his arms, and when he catches me, my grin expands. “No nip slips,” I say. “I think we’re good to go. We just have to collect our Padawan.”
Donnelly slides his hand in mine, and we both venture to the wardrobe. As he reaches for the handle, we can hear a muffled voice.
“And then there’s a sea dragon, big and bright—” The voice cuts short when Donnelly opens the door. Beneath hangers of loose fabric and tulle is a six-year-old. She beams a flashlight at the pages of a book that’s propped on her kneecaps.
Elara Rey Hale.
She stares up at us with wide blue eyes. Her pink lips form a surprised O like she didn’t expect time to move this fast while she’s lost in fiction. Her purple alien antennas flop, and she pushes them back up into her chestnut brown hair. “One more chapter, Mommy, Daddy, please.”