“Oh no.” She laughs softly. “Sorry. I should’ve waited until after you got here to finish my lipstick.” She gets her feet under her and takes my hand. “I have something that will take that off.”
Despite the shabby exterior of the building, her apartment’s nice. Painted a soft gray with pink and pale blue accents, it suits Serena. There are lots of lamps glowing with a warm, low light. Worn hardwood floors that have seen better days. A beat up sectional couch breaks up the living room space. There’s no television, but an entertainment center piled with books and small cardboard boxes.
She leads me down a short hallway and into a room. Hundreds of white, twinkly lights cascade down the entire wall to my left. Pink, gauzy curtains are attached to the wall and held back to resemble a window, I guess. To the right, she has a long white table with a bunch of drawers along the wall. Little clear plastic drawers and containers brimming with stuff are scattered over every surface. A white square mirror with dozens of light bulbs surrounding it is secured to the wall. A laptop, tiny tripod, and camera are set up on the table.
“You, uh, making home movies here?” Jesus, according to Ravage, girls make their own porn at home these days. I can’t picture Serena doing that, though.
“Oh.” Flustered, she rushes over to the table and picks up a large, clear bottle of liquid. “Sort of. I do some beauty vlogging when I’m not working.”
“Beauty what?”
“Video blogging?”
I’m still lost.
She uncaps the bottle and squirts some of the liquid onto a white, cotton square. As she advances toward me, I realize whatever she’s got is meant for me.
“Uh, what’re you doing?” I wrap my hand around her wrist, holding her at bay.
“Wiping this off you.” She shakes loose of my hold. “Unless you’d like to go out with unicorn blood smeared over your chin?”
“Pardon me?”
Laughing softly, she dabs and swipes the cool, cotton pad over my bottom lip and chin. “Got it.” She shows me the pad, then tosses it in the wastebasket by her desk.
Finally, I’m able to take her in. And, fuck is she a knockout. Tall black boots that lace up the front hug her calves. I was right—black pantyhose with some sort of pattern cover her legs. A plaid, wool jumper-dress flares out and stops mid-thigh. A black turtleneck underneath sets off her fair complexion.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I breathe out.
Her red-stained lips twist into a mischievous smirk. “Since we’re going back to high school, I pulled out my schoolgirl dress.” She grabs the edges of the skirt and dips forward.
I groan. “No schoolgirl jokes. I feel old enough around you.”
She runs her hands over her hair. “I almost wore pigtails.”
This time, I growl. “No pigtails, please.”
More laughter. Like fucking music, and I never want to change the channel.
She points at her feet. “I went with Doc Martens instead of Mary Janes.”
“Good.” I tug her close again and cast a look around the room. “Where do you sleep?”
She points toward the wall with all the lights. “My bedroom.”
“You have a two-bedroom apartment by yourself?”
Her jaw clenches. “I lived with roommates for years and couldn’t stand it anymore.” She flaps her hands toward the desk. “I wanted a separate space for my makeup stuff.”
“You need all that for your makeup?” I’ve noticed she wears a lot when she’s not at work, but a whole room for it?
She rolls her eyes. “For my vlog. It’s my side hustle.”
“Like a part-time job?”
“Sort of.” She pulls away from me. “I’m trying to dig my way out of debt and it brings in extra money.”
I don’t understand the connection. “But you’re a professional. In a medical job.”
“Yes,” she says slowly, clearly irritated. “And it cost money to get my degree. Lots and lots that I now have to pay back. Plus, I had a few years where I was dumb and lived on credit cards, then defaulted on them, so I’ve been working hard to clear that up. I’d like to be able to buy my own house someday.”
She lifts her chin, daring me to criticize her. “If I keep going, I should be debt-free by my thirtieth birthday,” she adds, obviously proud.
Can’t fault her for working hard. “Where’s your family?” I ask gently. It’s about time I got to know more about her than the way she makes me feel.
Her gaze darts to the side. “I don’t have any, really. I went to live with my grandmother when I was fourteen. She died when I was seventeen.” She coughs and drops her gaze to the carpet. “I couldn’t live with my uncle or go back to my mom’s, so I’ve been on my own since then.”
“Hey, come here.” I reach for her but her feet stay planted where they are. “You’ve been alone since you were seventeen?”