Hooker(115)

I pause momentarily. This is a bad idea, but I don’t want things to be weird between us. That’s the closest we’ve ever come to crossing the line. We can’t cross that line. It’s too risky. If I walk away now, that’s exactly what it will be—weird. Sighing, I follow her. I don’t have a choice.

‘What the?’ I say the second she opens her door. Her bedroom is very pink, just like her hair. But that’s not what surprises me, it’s the huge display cabinets running the entire length of the wall. Rows and rows of trophies line the shelves. ‘Did you do a ram-raid on a trophy factory?’

‘Very funny, arsehole,’ she says, nudging my shoulder. ‘No, I won them.’

‘What? How?’ I walk towards the cabinet closest to me and read the inscription on one of the trophies. Fuck me. ‘You’re a beauty queen?’ I ask in amazement, swinging around to face her. How did I not know this? That’s when I spot all the sashes that are proudly displayed along the wall above her bed.

‘Yes,’ she replies, her shoulders slumping. ‘I’m supposed to be in the running for Miss Australia, hence the pink hair. But I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, Jax. I hate it.’

‘Then why do you do it?’

‘Sophia,’ is all she says, letting out a deflated breath. I still find it weird that she calls her mother by her first name. Apparently, being called ‘Mum’ makes Sophia feel old.

‘Oh.’ I get that. My dad has been controlling my life for as long as I can remember.

‘This is why she freaked out about my hair,’ she says gesturing around the room with her hand. ‘The Miss Australia pageant is only two weeks away. This crap means everything to her.’

‘But not to you?’ I’m still shocked by her revelation. My candylicious is a beauty queen. Sure, she’s got the looks for it, she’s a fucking babe, but the Candice I know is far from that type of girl.

‘Exactly. You know me better than anyone, Jax. This is not who I am.’ She’s always so bubbly, so it hurts to see her so deflated. I want to pull her into my arms, but I can’t—dangerous territory.

‘Did you tell Sophia that?’

‘Yes. I’ve been telling her for years. I don’t know,’ she says, raising her arms in frustration. ‘I guess she misses her old life, so she’s trying to live vicariously through me.’

‘That’s fucked up.’

‘I know, right? Welcome to my life.’

‘You know, mine’s not much better. I wish our parents would just let us live our lives the way we want.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’

She prances across the room and my eyes follow. Her sweet apple scent lingers in the air as she breezes past me. I’m fucking addicted to the way she smells. On any other occasion, I’d probably be checking out her arse, but our little encounter in the corridor has me spooked. When she bends over to retrieve something out of the bottom drawer, I quickly divert my gaze to the ceiling.

‘So how long have you been doing this beauty thing?’ I ask trying to pull my thoughts out of the gutter.

‘Since I was four,’ she replies with a roll of her eyes.

‘I can’t believe you never mentioned it.’

‘It’s not something I’m proud of.’ The sadness in her voice tears at my heart. ‘Here.’

When she passes me a shot glass, I raise it to my nose, inhaling. The strong scent of aniseed invades my senses. Sambuca. Nice.

‘Bottoms up,’ she says, holding her glass in the air. ‘Or should I say, penises up.’

My face screws up at her comment, then I look at the glass in my hand. Why did I not see that before? It has a tiny penis handle, and the words ‘I Love Peckers’ written in bold letters across the front.

‘No fucking way,’ I snap, shoving the shot glass into her hands before frantically wiping my fingers down the front of my jeans to remove the pecker germs. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not drinking out of a cock cup.’

Candice throws her head back and laughs at my outburst. I’m glad she finds this amusing. ‘It’s just a glass, Jax, get over it.’

‘A glass with a cock on it. Would you drink out of a pussy cup?’ I ask, smugly.

‘Um, yeah. It’s just a damn cup. The shape or design hold no significance.’

How did we go from talking about beauty queens to genitals? I rub my free hand over my face. Christ, I really need to get out of her room before I do something I’m going to regret for the rest of my life.

‘It does if you’re male and it’s shaped like a cock,’ I retort.