Outside the Lines (Rebel Hearts #1) (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

“What are your plans for the weekend?” Mariah asks me the next day at work. I yawn and down my second cup of coffee. One good orgasm wasn’t enough, and I ended up staying up way past my already late bedtime seeing if I could outdo the last until I eventually passed out. Not my proudest moment. And now my wrist hurt. Cue all the shame.
 

“I’m going home for my brother’s bridal shower. Well, not his, I guess, but his fiancé’s. My future sister-in-law,” I added, raising my eyebrows.
 

Mariah laughed, her strawberry-blonde hair moving around her face. “I take it you don’t like her?”

I turn away from my computer, swiveling the chair around with a creak. “I don’t really know her, that’s all. It’s weird to think my little brother is spending the rest of his life—give or take a divorce or two—with this girl that I’ve only met a few times. And she’s going to be part of my family and I’ll have to spend Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving and … and other holidays that I can’t think of right now with her. Forever.”
 

Mariah, who’s been married for over ten years with two kids, laughs again. “I hate my brother’s wife,” she says softly. “She’s a total gold-digging bitch. Joke’s on her because my brother squanders all his money and can’t put anything away to save his life. We’re all waiting on that divorce to happen. Hopefully before he knocks her up.”
 

“What about you?” I ask. “Any fun plans?”

Mariah puts her hands back on her keyboard, quickly typing as she talks. “We’re taking the kids to the beach and then the children’s museum. It should be fun and they will be exhausted by the time we come home. That’s horrible, isn’t it? I look forward to my kids being worn out and quiet.”
 

I smile. “The boys are eight now?”

“Nine. And so hyper.” Her steel-blue eyes widen. “They never stop.”
 

I press enter and wait for the page on the website I’m building to save.

“I should feel bad that I look forward to bedtime, right?” Mariah says. “I love those kids.”
 

“Nah, I get exhausted cleaning the litter box and cleaning cat dishes. You’re fine.”
 

Mariah gives me another smile then goes back to work. I look at the clock, see I still have two hours until lunch, and get back to work. I’m building a custom website from scratch for a gardening company, and they’ve given me pretty loose reins to run with the project. Setting up sites is a cakewalk for me and gets boring day after day. But this job has minimal stress, it pays well, and I don’t have to deal with people face to face, which is the biggest win of all.
 

I design a few graphics just because I can, email them to the art director for approval, then spend the rest of the morning customizing HTML for the client. I take my lunch into the break room, sitting at a large wooden table that’s under an air-conditioning vent, and shiver. The room is by far the best break room I’ve had at a job, with a snack bar, fridge full of free drinks, and donuts and bagels every morning. It’s clean and well decorated, like the break room of a big company should be.
 

I dig into my food while texting Erin about designing our costumes for Wizard World in Chicago later this summer. She wants to go a Sailor Jupiter—again.
 

I text her:
Let’s do Batman and Superman instead. You get first pick.

She replies with:
You mean Catwoman and Wonder Woman, right?

I shake my head as I bite into my turkey sandwich.
No, femme versions of the guys.

She takes a minute to reply, and I know she’s considering it. Finally she agrees, and we plan to come up with costume ideas while I’m in town for the weekend.
 

“Hey, Felicity,” Cameron says.

I turn and smile. “Hey,” I say once I finish chewing. “What’s up, boss man?”

Cameron waves his hand in the air. “Nothing, nothing. How are you? Your hair looks super cute today.”
 

I raise an eyebrow and set my sandwich down. My hair is in a messy French braid. “What do you want?”

He never compliments my hair. Just yesterday he was bitching about my split ends and lack of volume. Cameron walks through the break room and sits on the edge of the table across from me. He’s dressed like he walked off a Ralph Lauren photoshoot for business casual wear, and smells like one of those fold-over cologne pages from a magazine. He’s always so put together.
 

“Well, as you know, Marissa is due soon.”
 

“Doesn’t she have like a month left?”

“Three weeks,” he says and puts a hand on the table leaning in toward me. “But she had an appointment today and it’s looking like she’s going to have to go on bedrest until she pops out that baby. Blood pressure issues or whatever. So, she’s done at the end of the week until she comes back from maternity leave. Which leads me to asking … can you do me a favor?”
 

I hike an eyebrow. “Does it require a substantial amount of time or energy?”
 

“Not at all.”
 

“Then maybe. Tell me what it is before I agree to anything.”
 

“She’s has a customer service appointment scheduled for next week. Can you go instead? The office is just across town. I’ll even buy you lunch that day.”
 

I purse my lips together. Customer service? Face to face? Helping people with computer problems common sense could figure out. Yuck. “Aren’t I a little overqualified for this?” I ask. Hell, I’m overqualified for my job of designing sites, but this job pays well and offers twice the benefits as my old one.

Cameron narrows his eyes. “Do you want those free passes and day off for Comic Con?”

“You’re evil.”
 

“Not quite as evil as pairing that shirt with those pants.”
 

“Hey!” I say and look down at the blue dress pants I’m wearing. My shirt is blue too. “It matches.”
 

“No, it doesn’t. At all.” He laughs and shakes his head, going back to boss mode. “Seriously though, Lissy. It would save me so much trouble if you could do this. I know you’re ahead on the garden site and don’t have another client lined up until the middle of next week. I have a temp coming in for her, but not until
next
Monday. Please do this for me.” He put his hands together. “Please, Lissy!”
 

“Fine. But just the one?”

“It should be just the one.”
 

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Because I can’t be sure there won’t be calls that need coverage until the temp gets in.”
 

I huff and take a bite of my food. “It’s fine. I can handle it. But you know how I feel about having to talk to people. And lunch better be good.”
 

Cameron laughs, the smile pulling up his full lips. He’s a good-looking man and he knows it. “You’re so easy to bribe when it comes to food.”
 

I shrug. “Yeah, I do like to eat.”
 

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s not fair you eat like shit and never gain weight. I take one bite of a muffin and it’s on my hips the next day.” He smacks his own ass.

I run my eyes over him. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

“Only because I work my ass off in the gym. You wouldn’t be saying that three years ago before I met Adam. He’s whipped my butt into shape in more ways than one.”
 

I let out a snort of laugher. “Maybe I’ll have him be my personal trainer. Someday.”
 

Cameron crosses his arms. “Let’s be honest. You don’t work out. Remember how running club went for you?”

I make a face and sigh. The only running I did was run late for club. Everyone was gone by the time I got there, which worked out fine since the donut store across the street opened only a half hour later. I wanted to get in shape in case of an apocalypse, but let’s be real: no one really likes jogging. It’s a lie they tell themselves and other people.
 

“Just enjoy that fast metabolism while you can, honey.”

“I plan to. My mom says the same thing. She had hers until she had kids, so I’m good for, oh, the rest of my life.”
 

“Lissy,” Cameron says, seeing past my joke. “You are not going to be alone forever.”
 

“I know,” I say, and honestly believe it. I’ll find someone eventually. I’m only twenty-five, after all. I have five more years until my biological clock turns into a ticking time bomb and I sob uncontrollably at my thirtieth birthday as I sit alone in my living room over not finding a husband. I’m not there yet, thank God. I keep busy. I’m happy. It took fucking years, but I like myself, my life.
 

Call me a nerd, geek, loser … whatever, I didn’t care—though I do prefer
intellectual badass
over all those—I’ve accepted myself and don’t feel ashamed and the need to hide my love over, well, anything.
 

“Are we still shopping after work?” Cameron asks.
 

“Yeah, I don’t have a dress for the shower this weekend.”
 

“Great, because Adam’s got a late session today and canceled dinner plans. Shopping then drinks?”

“Sounds good to me.”
 

*

“Damn, girl,” Cameron says when I step out of the dressing room. “Where the hell have you been hiding those?” His eyes widen as he takes in the large amount of cleavage the dress shows off.
 

“Under work-appropriate attire,” I say, feeling a bit self-conscious in the dress. It’s a halter top, white with blue polka dots and belted around the waist. It’s cute, I can’t deny that, but I’m unsure of how it looks on me. I’m of average build, but I’m far from
in shape
. “Does it look okay?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at my reflection.
 

“Yes. Way okay. And it’s on sale. You’re getting it and wearing it.”
 

I nod. At least this was painless. “Fine.” I step closer to the three-way mirror, making a mental note to spend some time outside and get a tan before the wedding. “You don’t think it’s too short?”

Cameron shakes his head. “No, it’s perfect for a bridal shower. Why are you worried? I’ve seen some of the costumes you’ve worn to Comic Con.”
 

I shrug. “I’m playing a character, it’s different.” It’s hard to explain to some people. Taking on a role lets you channel whoever you’re dressed as. I’ll be going to this shower as me, as the older sister of Jake Hills not as Ahri, the nine-tailed fox.
 

“Do you have Spanx at home?” he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. I did, but they are horribly uncomfortable so I tossed them in the trash the same day I threw away the expensive anti-wrinkle cream I’d recently bought. My body jiggles in certain places. I am going to age and get wrinkle eventually. Why agonize over it?
 

“Not wearing them.” I look at myself again, eyes instantly going to my hips. Maybe I should get more. Double up on the Spanx, actually. It’ll take a few inches off my middle.
 

Fuck. No. I’m not doing that. I am who I am, and I don’t look that bad considering I eat like crap and don’t work out. I never wear Spanx or other body-slimming witchery at Comic Con, and I feel like a fucking rockstar when I’m dressed up as one of my favorite characters.
 

I want to feel like that when I’m just me.
 

Why is it so hard?
 

“Get changed,” Cameron says. “And then we’ll talk shoes.”
 

We leave the mall a half hour later. Cameron convinced me not to wear my Tardis shoes with the dress despite the fact the color was perfect. I got a pair of lower white heels instead, something practical yet stylish that I could easily move around in while decorating the venue for the shower. We grab dinner and drinks and it’s late by the time I get home.
 

Like usually, I stay up too late watching TV, sleep in, and have to rush around like a mad woman to get all my shit done before packing an overnight back and driving the hour and a half to my mom and dad’s. I sing along with Rachel Platten on the way, and time passes quickly. A little guilt rises inside of me when I stop by the bakery Erin runs with her sisters before stopping home to see my mom, but I know if I go home first I’ll never get out. Mom’s a talker.
 

There’s a parking spot right in front of the pink storefront,
 
which stands out next to the red brick fronts that surround it. Located on the main street and right in the middle of this town, Sweet Treats sticks out and is always busy. I grab my purse and get out, locking the Malibu as I hurry out of the misting rain and into the store. A little bell dings above me and I snicker as I remember the moaning lady at the sex shop.
 

I’m so mature sometimes.
 

“Hey!” I call over the small crowd gathered in front of a display of colorful cupcakes. Erin’s sister, Andrea, smiles and waves.

“She’s in the back,” she tells me and boxes up a cupcake for a little girl. I pass by and duck behind the counter. Erin is frosting a cake when I step through double doors into the back room. She looks up and beams.
 

“About time! I was wondering if I was going to have to call out a search party.”
 

I laugh and shake my head. We’ve been friends since middle school, and though we’ve gone a while without seeing each other since I took this job, nothing is ever awkward around this girl. “I run on my own time.”
 

“I’ve noticed. How was the drive?”

“Not bad, actually. Traffic flowed, which means I’ll get stuck when I go home for sure.”
 

“I’m almost done,” she says. “I’m just doing the first layer now.”
 

“Have anything to taste test?” I ask.
 

“Actually yes,” she replies and carefully spins the cake. “Not really to test, but there’s a batch of cupcakes that didn’t turn out the right shade of green. Over there.” She uses a spatula to point. I shuffle over and grab one. The green is kind of a puke color, but the cupcake tastes delicious.