A/N: What an exhausting day I've had! How's your weekend shaping up?
25.
"Wait," I hold up a hand. "The t-shirt counts."
She rolls her eyes and nods with a smirk. Her shoulders are visibly tense, though.
For a moment, I wonder if this is a good idea… if I am the best person to support her through something she is clearly dreading.
But then I figure, who better?
So I hold out a hand again, and breathe a little easier when she sets her own in it.
"I told you I've been moving around for about a year. It was alright, but I was restless. I finally reached Vegas about 6 months ago, and decided to stick it out for a while. It was just… a symbol, I guess. My mother's celebration of life. My search for… something. Long story short, I had some money saved up and was looking for a good time. Instead, I got taken for a ride and robbed. I panicked and basically convinced myself that stripping wasn't such a bad option in that situation. I needed the money, and a job's a job, after all."
Her mouth twists, and I recognize that look of self derision.
"It was so awkward, Edward. I'd had a couple of boyfriends, but I always felt so… I was always… what's that word? Stilted? Boring, the farthest thing from adventurous or flirty or… you know?"
I nod, though I can't see her as any of those things.
"So, the stripping gig. I figured it was the perfect way to get over my inhibitions, get a life, have fun, all that jazz. Well, it didn't work out too well—apparently I wasn't 'approachable' enough. Not sexy enough, not alluring enough… just not enough."
She gestures towards the general area of her chest, and it doesn't take a genius to get what she means. It takes an effort to tear my eyes away, though. Her boobs are perfection.
"I figured I'd cut my losses, take whatever savings I still had, and just make my way up here. Then this guy offered me another job. Oh, he pitched it as so much fun… I was just supposed to get dressed up, accompany these men to fancy parties, and the money was good. I guess I didn't think of reading the small print."
One part of me is still cataloging her alluring shape beneath her shirt, the way just the sight of her lips makes my mouth water, the way her skin feels against mine. Another part of me is battling an almost irrational rage. It makes me sick to think of her so vulnerable, so lost, available for the scum of the earth to abuse as they please.
At this point, I don't know which of us is holding on tighter. I just know that letting her go is not an option.
"I used to be such a good girl. Never put a toe out of line, chose the sensible career path instead of studying literature like I wanted to… because it was 'whimsical and useless', mom said. Seems like I made all the responsible decisions so she could continue being reckless. And it still wasn't enough. She laughed at me, and pitied me for my boring life. Well, how about that, I was a fucking stripper and an escort. Can't call that boring, not by a long shot."
Her laughter is brittle. The storm in her eyes makes the one outdoors look like a gentle drizzle.