Page 17 of Quiet Obsession
Dash is her best bet. My brother’s taken his role to heart a bit too much, and Noah... from what I’ve seen, he’s not built for fun. I’ve spent three evenings with him so far, and if his focus and intensity cross into the bedroom, then Abby could be in for more than she can handle.
Says the virgin who’s attempted first time ended with emptying a bottle of sleeping pills...
“Dash.” I nod, stuffing my backpack with clothes. “If you want fun.”
“My thoughts exactly. He didn’t stop flirting the entire trip to town.” She tucks her legs under her butt, bouncing lightly on her bed. “We need a signal. You know, in case we’rebusyand we don’t want the other to walk in.”
My imagination soars—the tragic side effect of being an artist—and my mind fills with Dash’s broad shoulders, the expanse of his back, his naked butt bouncing between Abby’s thighs among the mass of her pillows...
Shit. My mind’s still an overly colorful place, it seems. I shakethat visual off, shoving two more sweaters into my backpack.
Abby won’t have to worry about walking in on me, but I’d rather not catch her in the act if I can help it.
“A tie?” I suggest.
“You mean tie on the handle? No, that’s too obvious. The whole building will know. Besides, we’re not frat boys, Millie.”
“Sticky note?”
“I’ve got one better.” She points to the cheap black umbrellas hanging off the coat rack in case it rains. Which, around here, I realize, it does every day ending in y. “I’ll prop one outside when I’m getting lucky.”
“Why—?”
“Because,” she says, beaming, “if you want to enter, you need an umbrella because it’swetin here.”
A soft laugh makes it out of my throat. Between long meals with Dash and late nights playing chess with Noah, I haven’t spent much time with Abby, but she’s easy to like. She doesn’t hover, push, or prod. She goes with the flow, and somehow always knows when I need space and silence.
“Okay. Umbrella it is.”
All packed, I lock myself in the bathroom, a pair of black, thick leggings, and my favorite chunky gray jumper neatly folded and waiting on the cabinet.
Hot water patters down my back, relaxing my tense muscles. I’d lie if I said I wasn’t worried about heading to Seattle with Dash and Noah. It’s almost a three-hour drive, and though I’ve spent plenty of time with them, it’s differenton campus than when we’ll be locked in a car.
There’s also the prospect of spending two nights in a stranger’s house... and meeting said stranger.
Hyde’s never talked much about Creed, neither do Dash and Noah, creating an aura of unpleasant mysticism about the fourth man in their group.
And then there’s the funeral. It’s no secret that I’m terrible with grief. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to behave, where to stand, what to do with my hands or eyes...
I wash out the hair conditioner and switch the water off, Dash’s voice filtering through the door. I can’t make out his words, but I can tell he’s flirting, and that it’s working.
Abby’s giggling like a schoolgirl.
I take my sweet time drying my hair and taming the thick strands into a ponytail before getting dressed. Abby’s makeup supplies are neatly organized by her sink, everything from foundations, concealers, eyeshadows, and mascaras to lipsticks in all shades of red and pink.
A year ago, I had a similar collection and developed an unhealthy fascination with making myself up for a guy. I spent hours in front of the mirror every morning and afternoon before my tutoring sessions with Evan, testing different looks.
And every time he complimented me, I doubled down.
Once I was released from the hospital, I trashed the lot. Makeup makes you visible. It can even make a girl like me look pretty.Noticeable. And I can’t want that.
“Ready?” Dash asks as soon as I step out of the bathroom.
He’s not on my bed for a change. He’s comfortable between Abby’s pillows, the girl in question sitting by the wall, her legs draped over his. Looks like the umbrella might get used much sooner than I would’ve guessed.
Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Dash leaves me alone with Noah every evening, heading out to mixers, and always pops back in to saygoodnightwith a different girl on his arm.
He sure knows how to pick themis my only comment and Noah always smiles, nodding along as he makes his next move on the chessboard.
