A light giggle, a light pressure, and the opening widens enough for my head to pop out.

“You didn’t unbutton it all the way to the top,” Amber says, smiling.

I blink at her, and as she comes into focus, I blink again.

Whoa. The little silver dress clings to her body, outlining her curves, from her heavy tits to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. She isn’t skinny, and I like that. I can imagine filling my hands with her ass and her breasts, and the image has my dick roaring back to life.

Dammit.

But it’s her smile that does me in. A little uncertain, insecure, yet bright as I look at her.

Not sure what she sees on my face, though, because her smile fades and she tugs at the hem of her dress. It only serves to pull it down, so that the cleavage deepens, giving me a glimpse of the pale mounds of her tits.

“Not good, huh?” She looks down at herself, her mouth downturned.

“It’s perfect,” I tell her and mean it. She’s perfect. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Christ.

Her smile returns. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Gah. I forgot I have a new shirt on. Metallic, too, like hers, and I haven’t even glanced at the price tag. “We’ll match.”

Her eyes widen a fraction before she catches herself. She bents to pick up some black pants from the chair, and I ogle her, unable to stop myself.

“Try these on.” Her voice has a slight tremor to it, and I want to grab her chin and tell her I want her, I need her, I’m dying to kiss her.

But I don’t. Come on, I’m not that stupid. So I take the pants and go to change.

***

Although I’ve been to a few stores and bought stuff, it feels weird. I try not to stare at the amount I’m paying for the shirt and pants, plus a pair of faded jeans and two plain T-shirts Amber helped me pick out.

She says what I’m paying is not expensive.

Hard to believe it when a year ago that amount would have covered my expenses for weeks. Granted, expenses only included food—and condoms, because dying of STD isn’t a good way to go, and they never gave us enough at the centers—as I could take free showers at the shelter where I stayed whenever there was a free bed. During winter, I would even hang around the shelter, even if there was no place to stay.

I hate winters. Too fucking cold.

I shiver and find Amber’s hand on my arm.

“Okay?” she asks, and it makes me wonder how long I spaced out.

Not that it’s unusual.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I grab the paper bag with my folded new clothes, wonder briefly if I need shoes but decide I don’t give a damn, and stride out of the shop. Enough for one day. I turn to keep the door open for Amber, who ambles out, giving me a brief, inquisitive look.

“Told you shopping isn’t my thing,” I say by way of explanation—and since when do I feel the need to explain myself? Fuck this.

“It’s okay.” She cuts into a narrow side street, a different one this time, her own bag with the silver dress dangling from one hand. “We’ll get another bus. If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“It didn’t go so bad, did it?”

“It was okay.”

“I thought the prices were fine for what you got. The fabric is good quality. My mom used to sew, and she taught me quite a bit about textiles. These are clothes that will keep. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Hm?”

“JJ.” I realize Amber has stopped walking, and I almost plow into her back.

We’re standing on the street, crowded in by buildings, their dirty windows looking in on us. Graffiti sprawls around us. A sun. A skull. A winged demon. A green dumpster looms a few feet away, a crimson stain barely visible in the gathering gloom.

The world narrows, darkening at the edges.

“Hey.” She’s staring at me. “You normally talk a mile a minute, and instead I’m the one chatting away. Is everything okay?”

My skin is crawling as if with a thousand insects. Dizziness hits me, and I stumble back a step. Fuck. Bile rises in my throat.

I know this place, this dumpster, that graffiti. It lives in my nightmares.

I need to get away. Right the fuck now. If only I can move my legs, but my feet weigh a ton each.

“Jesse.” Her hand touches my face and I jerk away, the past and the present mingling, bleeding into each other. “What’s the matter?”

“Can’t,” I hiss, my breathing shallow. Can’t get enough air. Can’t focus. Can’t talk about that night.

Blood. Pain. Yelling. Screaming. My arm burns. My head rings. The world darkens for a moment, and when I blink again, I find myself pressed against the wall with the smell of piss and decomposition, Amber’s face an inch from mine.

“JJ. Can you hear me? Jesse!”

“I prefer JJ,” I say automatically, trying to get my bearings. “What the hell happened?”

“You tell me.” Her slender brows are drawn together. She looks worried. Looks like I scared the crap out of her.

Again.

“What did I do?” My throat hurts when I speak.

“You spaced out, then stumbled and almost fell. You didn’t seem to hear me.”

Fucking hell. “Sorry, Embers.”

“It’s okay. Just tell me what happened?”

Finding my feet is one thing. Finding my mental balance is another. I need to get out of this street, move as far away from the graffiti mocking me, the drawings that are etched in my mind like tattoos.

“It’s just that…” I lick my lips, try again as I push off the wall, forcing her back a step. “I need to get the fuck outta here.”

I stumble away and don’t expect her to stick by my side—why would she?—but a moment later, her arm slips around my hips, holding on.

Not that I can’t walk on my own. My head is clearing and my balance is getting better. I should tell her that. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t speak them. She feels so incredibly good pressed to my side—and yeah, maybe I’m still a bit unsteady because her scent hits me like a sledgehammer, and there I go, stumbling again.

“Careful,” she whispers, only that, and guides me back to the main street. It’s as if she understands it’s this place that’s bothering me.

It’s not until we’ve boarded the bus and are sitting side by side that she puts her hand on top of mine.

“Remember the three questions you promise to answer?” she says. “Well, here’s one: What happened back there?”

What the fuck? Of all the things she could have asked me, why this? I hate talking about this. Haven’t talked about it in years, not since I lost Helen. I thunk my head on the window pane and stare morosely at the city as it sinks into dusk.

Why did I accept to answer her questions? Me and my fucking big mouth.

Chapter Eleven

Amber

As the bus rumbles closer to home, I keep stealing glances at Jesse, who’s dozing, slumped against the window. He works a lot, though today’s the day he gets the afternoon off, which is why we agreed on going shopping. Still, he looks so tired, the dark circles under his eyes starker than ever, and the way he looked back in that alley…

Jesus. So pale and drawn, shaky. Eyes wide and unblinking, as if he’d seen a ghost. Scared me half to death.

He said I don’t need to change. That I’m fine as I am. Could he be right? That I don’t have to change for the world to accept me? That I’m not the problem? If Jesse likes me as I am…

My hand is still resting over his, its warmth reassuring. What I want is to reach up and touch his cheek, demand to know what is wrong so I can fix it. So I can see him smile again.

Don’t go there, Amber.

Ev warned me about him. Being friends—if that’s what we are—is okay. But if I fall for him, I might as well carve my heart to pieces and give it to the dogs.