Page 3 of Manic

If I had to carve my own way into the world, I would, and I wasn’t going to stick around to earn my parents approval. Books were my true interest. I had an online interview with a library in a few days, but I couldn’t find the courage to tell Amelia yet. Tomorrow, maybe.

For a brief moment, I wondered if my admirer knew about the interview. If he did, I was positive I’d hear about it. Heat crawled up my neck at the thought. Would he be angry if I left?

Probably, but I’d deal with that later.

“Keep trying. I’m sure your father will cave eventually,” Amelia said then scanned the room, beaming once she spotted the clerk taking orders. “I desperately need a coffee. I’ll order and we can leave. There’s a few shops I passed on the way here—not too far. Let’s go there first.”

I nodded and watched her walk off, admiring how pretty she was—so pretty she could wield it as a weapon. She had a few times without really knowing—oblivious to anyone who stared.

Perhaps she was used to it. Or perhaps Amelia was the queen my admirer spoke about; gracefully commanding a room without even trying while pawns scrambled to clear a path.

Even now, the man behind the counter with stars in his eyes was probably thinking about waving the small cost of her coffee. Amelia laughed, animatedly talking with her hands as they spoke. After paying, she dropped a few dollars into the tip jar and made her way back to me. The barista reached for a remote, turning up the volume on a nearby TV. We swiveled our gazes, my heart racing at the news report.

“This week is the fifth anniversary of Noah Sterling’s murder, the son of Vancouver’s former leading investigator, after being found stabbed to death in a local park. Even today, the mysterious murders of the Vancouver natives remain unsolved.”

“God, Sutton. I forgot all about this week,” Amelia said quietly, touching my elbow with furrowed brows. “Are you okay?”

I flattened my lips and gave a weak nod, fixed on the image of Noah—dark hair and warm eyes with a confident grin spread across his face like a morbid memorial.

My stomach turned.

Noah Sterling was my late boyfriend. The memories of us flooded me, and a dull ache throbbed beneath my ribs. A tinge of sorrow. Guilt. He was charming and intelligent, and someone who had a knack for holding engaging conversations.

To this day, Noah lingered in the cracks of my mind, in the places I visited, and the very walls of my father’s casinos. He was always there, tugging at my thoughts, and yet seeing him on the news like I did every year sent a wave of frustration through me.

I was sick of hearing about him.

“I think I’ll feel better after some retail therapy,” I said, forcing a smile. “Plus, I can’t wait to see what scandalous dresses you find to irritate your mother.”

Our giggles rose as we exited, and the yellow leaves of early fall drifted down as we walked the street and forgot all about Noah Sterling.

After hours of shopping with nothing to show for it, we stood in a local boutique outside the dressing room.

Boutique was pushing it, though. It was more like a prestigious fashion house, considering the price of these dresses exceeded anything I was willing to pay. Chump change was what my father had said once, as a few hundred dollars to him was nothing but pennies.

He’d complain if I didn’t show up in something exquisite, so this boutique was what we were settling on. The noise of the shop drifted past the doorway: hushed conversations, the pinging of registers, the bell chiming as people entered.

“I like that one,” Amelia said, but her brows furrowed. “It hugs your curves, but I’m not sure I like the color. It washes you out.”

Placing my hand against the doorframe, I tried not to roll my eyes as it was the seventh dress I’d tried on. The dress swooped down, brushing the floor in a dark violet waterfall. She was right though; the color wasn’t ideal, and it was scratchy.

“We’re running out of time,” I said with an unamused blink. “The store closes in an hour, and it's one night. I’m just going to pick something from the stack and call it good. I’m not staying long anyway.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said sharply, walking over to skim through the variety of hangers in my dressing room. She pulled out a silky black dress with the bodice cut so deep, I was positive it would hit my navel. I definitely didn’t pick that one. My eyes narrowed when she thrust the dress out with a devious grin.

“Here, try this on,” she said.

This time, I did roll my eyes but took it anyway. Amelia walked out and I closed the curtains to slip it on, glancing in the mirror once I did. I blinked in surprise. Damn, it did look good.

But it was too… revealing.

Tiny straps curved over my shoulders, and the back of the dress dipped into a shallow swoop, just above the dimples on my lower back. The top was held together by a thin strap across my shoulder blades.

When I stepped out, Amelia choked on the last bit of her coffee, her blue eyes rounding. They dragged over me in a slow once-over. “Holy shit, that’s hot. You have to wear it.”

“It’s too revealing for a business event—for my father,” I reminded her, now self conscious of how it clung to my skin. “After two drinks, I’ll be spilling out of it. That’s the last thing I need.”

The last time I wore something so revealing, I’d been scolded. Even though Father had approved my dress beforehand, I’d apparently attracted too much attention from the other attending families. I’d wanted to crawl beneath the tile and stay there for the remainder of the night. It might not matter now though, considering five years had passed and I wasn’t nineteen anymore. But as shameful as it was, I would have endured any outburst hurled my way just to please him and whoever attended, if only to prove I was capable of interning at the casino by taking constructive criticism.