Dean crouches down so he’s Matty-sized (yeah, right) and gives him a real smile, so genuine, I feel it somewhere in my ribcage, probably next to the center where all the squishy female hormones originate.
“You’re super big. Did you know that?” Matty tilts his head to one side, and looks at Dean like he’s a curious creature that needs analyzing. “You’re bigger than my Daddy, and my Daddy is the biggest man in the world!” Matty throws his arms up and out for emphasis.
Dean’s smile gets even bigger, and Madonn’ this guy has just become my favourite dessert that I can’t wait to eat up.
“Chicken little,” I say, grabbing onto Matty’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Where’s Sera?”
“Here! Present and accounted for!” I whirl around and almost smack my best friend with my waving hair. “Hey, buddy! Hi, Dean! Great to see you again,” she says, holding her fist out for a bump – that Dean instinctively returns!
If someone showed me their fist to bump on what, the second time we met, well, that person would be looked at with my resting bitch face and probably never spoken to again. I mean, hello, we are adults, and none of this shit is going to fly in the business world. Professionalism always wins, and you’re constantly judged by first appearances and actions.
I could never bring someone like Dean to a business cocktail with me – he’d probably be the guy either nursing a beer and sitting in a corner all by himself, watching people in a creepy way, or he could be the guy doing the Beyoncé butt jiggle in the center of the makeshift dance floor that no one has a problem pointing and laughing at.
That’s why I don’t do relationships. I’d have an obligation to bring Dean with me to something like that where’d I’d have to network and build budding business relationships with potential clients who are judging me right away to see if I can talk the talk while trying to hold my liquor.
Free time isn’t free time anymore. It’s turned into something that used to be stress-free into an experiment. I’m the mouse searching for the fucking button to end the game, but I can never find it – I can’t smell the money to end the experiment. I only get little rewards to make me think I’m getting there, little things that I buy for myself that make me happy.
God, if my life is going to be like this for the rest of forever, what’s the point of working hard? What’s the point of trying to get ahead? Why do I have to fight for shit all the time?
“Hey, Sera. How you’ve been?” Dean asks.
Sera gives him a smile, the kind that makes her cheeks pop up real big, and her eyes squint up so you can hardly see them. That’s why I don’t show my teeth when I smile; closed lips is the way to go. You’re guaranteed to always look attractive in pictures.
“I’m awesome. Didn’t think I would be seeing you so soon, though. How’s your head doing? Want me to go get you something cold to drink, or you wanna go sit at the Starbucks upstairs?” she asks, and I bite my tongue to shut myself up.
Sera is a people pleaser. It’s not a freaking surprise with the kind of upbringing she had – always doing things 100% right to get her Mom or Dad to smile at her, or hell, give her a freaking nod at a job well done. Nope.
The habit stuck, the perverse sort of conscientiousness that makes her seem like a push-over when I know deep down she’s got a spine of reinforced steel. I tamp down the flash of annoyance that started in my chest, and flickers down to my belly.
No one gets over years of abuse in a day, hell, even in weeks and months. That shit takes years to root out, and maybe it all doesn’t really go away. I’ve read enough books on the subject, trying to help her out, to know the truth. Some people never get over it, and Sera Delos might just be one of them.
It makes me so fucking mad I want to tear her parents limb from limb – I want them to hurt, to pay for what they did to such a bright person. They dimmed her light, not by adding shutters, or adding opaque screens – no, they made the shining star believe it was weak and feeble and couldn’t light the entire night sky.
Fuckers.
I hate them. I hate them for what they did to her, and if I’m being honest, a part of me hates Sera for letting it still bother her to this day.
Dean tilts his head to the side and pinches the bridge of his nose. He runs his fingers through his longer hair and it falls in such a perfect way as to make me envious. I need to put serious effort into my hair looking as it does all the time, and this asshole is totally blessed with making it be perfect probably without any product in it at all.