Unbeautiful

  “Yeah, you really have.” His hands state the blunt truth as he studies me. “So why didn’t you travel, then? See the world. Or hell, just see the state.”

  I apprehensively glance around, listening to the soundlessness and the guy who offers as much silence as my paper and pen. “I was afraid, I guess,” I admit truthfully.

  His brows dip, and I see something unrecognizable in his eyes. Rage maybe? Or worry? I don’t know him well enough to know for certain.

  “Afraid of what?” he wonders.

  “My parents and the unknown, I guess.”

  He leans against the doorframe of his apartment with the cigarette resting between his lips. “Your parents sound a lot like my father. He was pissed when I announced I was leaving Vegas to come here. He even slit one of my car’s tires. I had to put on the spare and drive to a tire shop before I could hit the road.”

  His story should shock me—a crazy father slitting tires.

  It doesn’t even faze me.

  I gape at him. “You’re from Vegas? Seriously? How’d you end up in Laramie, Wyoming of all places? It seems so random.”

  He tenses, but swiftly shakes it off and nods his head at the door as he signs, “Luke’s my cousin. He told me once that if I ever wanted to leave Vegas, I could come here. And one day I decided I needed out because… And anyway, yeah, so I left and ended up here.”

  Why do I have the strangest feeling both of us are lying?

  Silences stretches between us again as I attempt to read him. My staring seems to have the same effect over him as his staring does to me. He grows uneasy, fiddling with the array of leather bands on his wrist as he stares at the ground. Then he abruptly clears his throat.

  I’m startled by the unexpected sound. I want to ask him how he lost his voice. Was he born like that? Or did something happen to him? But to ask a personal question would be like giving him an open invitation to ask me something personal. Besides, who knows if he’d lie.

  “How long have you lived here?” I recline against the railing of the stairway and wrap my arms around myself as the cool air nips at my skin.

  He rubs his jawline with one hand while the other spells away, “A couple of months. It’s been an interesting change to go from Sin City to here.”

  “Sin City?” Strands of my hair fall into my face as I angle my head to the side in confusion. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a nickname for Vegas.”

  “Why is it called that?”

  A pucker forms at his brows as he brings his finger to his mouth and traces it back and forth across his bottom lip and over his lip ring. I’m absolutely mesmerized by the movement, drawn in by it to the point where I actually contemplate kissing him. I’ve never just planted one on a guy before; Evan was in total control of the relationship.

  Ryler moves his hand away from his lip and bites on his lip ring. “Because it’s a city with sins tempting people at every corner—gambling, booze, sex.”

  About a year ago, I lost my virginity to Evan, but standing here, watching Ryler sign sex while sucking on his lip ring, makes me feel like a virgin again.

  “Oh,” is all I manage to get out of my mouth.

  I only breathe normally again when he releases the metal from his teeth and drops his cigarette to the ground.

  “So, about the party.” He gestures at the door. “Do you want to come in for a while? They’re playing cards and there are drinks and snacks and stuff. Plus, your papers are in there.” His lips quirk to a half grin and my stomach somersaults.

  Do I want to come in?

  Boy, do I want.

  A lot.

  Even through the fear, I want to go through that door.

  More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything in my entire life.

  In the back of my mind, I hear the voices of my mother, father, and Evan whispering that what I’m about to do is wrong. I’m not being who I’m supposed to be. I’m being all wrong, imperfect. I’m surrounding myself with unbeautiful people, according to their standards.

  I smile the biggest smile that’s ever graced my lips, even though I’m terrified out of my mind. “A party sounds fun. I’ve never actually been to one.”

  “You seriously are sheltered, Emery.” He reaches for the doorknob but pauses. “I can help you change that.” He winks at me.

  The disapproving voices in my head continue to chant as I follow him inside and into the unknown. But the music swallows them up as soon as I step over the threshold. Everything in my mind quiets the moment I step into the room. Everything is still for the first time in my life without taking the medication.

  Chapter 6

  A Strange Turn of Events

  Ryler

  She knows how to sign.

  She knows how to sign.

  The beautiful girl I’ve been obsessed with and torturing with my silence for over a week knows how to sign.

  What a strange turn of events. A turn I didn’t see coming.

  Even Violet sees the potential there, something she made clear when she whispered in my ear, “Go get yourself some. After Haven, you deserve it.”

  “Welcome to our palace,” I sign with a teasing grin then sweep my arm around in a grand gesture as Emery and I enter the living room.

  She chuckles at my joke as she nervously takes in the handful of people sitting at the kitchen table, playing a game of poker. “Hey Man, Nice Shot” by Filter throbs from the stereo and vibrates through the floor. The air is smoky, and the whole room buzzes with drunken excitement.

  “What’s that smell?” she asks as she sniffs the air.

  I almost consider lying to her. She’s clearly been sheltered, and by the looks of her mother, I’m betting Emery comes from a wealthy family. She’s probably not used to this kind of environment. Then again, she is living in the same crappy apartment complex.

  I shrug, deciding to go with the truth. “It’s pot, I think.”

  “Oh.” Her expression plummets.

  “Is that going to be okay?” I hurriedly sign. “Because we can go hangout outside if it bothers you.”

  She ravels a strand of hair around her finger as she glances around at the television, sofa, and beer bottles on the coffee table. “No… it’s fine. I’ve been around drugs before. I just…” She trails off and her eyes widen as if she’s admitted something horrible. She swiftly shakes her head and focuses on the dining room. “So, how does one of these things work? Not the party part, but I mean the poker game.”

  I stare at her, waiting for her to look at me, but her eyes remain fixed on the table, refusing to drift in my direction again. She’s definitely hiding something, but what? And do I care enough to press?

  I step in front of her so I can answer her question. “They’re pretty easy. I can teach you how.” I offer her a smile and she relaxes.

  “Are you any good?” she teases, nudging her shoulder into mine.

  “I’m okay,” I under-embellish.

  “So, then I’ll have a chance of winning?” She bats her eyelashes at me, either flirting or really hopeful I’ll help her win.

  “If you follow my exact instructions, then, yeah.” I’m not being overly confident. I know I’m that good, better than Luke, even. “But they’re playing for shots, so I’m not sure if you want to win.” I point to an array of alcohol bottles lining the counter along with some different types of juices and bottled water.

  She skims the bottles with wariness. “Okay, I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but I’ve never drank before, either.”

  “I’m not surprised. And you don’t have to drink. I don’t drink too much, and I can’t tonight anyway.”

  “Really? You don’t drink a lot?” Her brows knit as her eyes travel across my black T-shirt and jeans, studded belt, the bands on my wrist, and the piercings in my brow and lip. “Sorry,” she apologizes when she meets my eyes. “That probably sounded like I was stereotyping you. I’m really not that judgmental. At least, I don’t think I am.” Her face
contorts like she’s confused herself.

  I think she might be the strangest girl I’ve ever met, even more so than Violet.

  Honestly, she kind of reminds me of Aura in the fact that she seems like she doesn’t quite know her place in the world. Aura was that way, too—always wanting to do a thousand different things at once, as if she had no clue who she was in life.

  It makes me feel strangely content and unsettled to think of Aura when I’m with Emery. I usually try not to think of Aura at all, when I’m not submersed in my notebook. Our splitting apart was painful and hurtful. After surviving the wrath of Ben, I had hoped things would be better between us. But then she turned her back on me in the worst time possible, and my life was never the same.

  Emery sighs, interrupting my thoughts. “I really didn’t mean to say that aloud. I swear. It’s just being around you… For some reason, it seems okay to say whatever the hell I want.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. When her forehead creases, I hastily explain myself. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s just… That’s not the first time someone’s said something like that to me. I think it’s the whole silent thing. It makes people feel at ease or something, like because I can’t talk, I’m not going to tell their secrets.” She starts to grow even more worried so I add, “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me. Whatever you say to me tonight will never be repeated.”

  Confusion remains in her eyes. “Who else does that with you? I mean, lets shit sputter out of their mouth without any forethought.”

  I shrug. “A lot of people I knew growing up. Luke does it sometimes. And my dad used to do it before I moved out.” My jaw momentarily ticks just mentioning my father. “Usually, it’s only people who know me. You might be the very first stranger. Of course, I don’t meet a lot of strangers who can communicate with me. I’m still shocked as hell that you can.” I pause, hoping she’ll explain why she knows how, but all she does is stare at the table where the poker chips are clinking again.

  I graze my fingers across her hand to regain her attention then nod my head at the table. “Come on. I’ll show you how to play.” I thread our fingers together. Her fingers instantly stiffen, but that only makes me grip onto her hand tighter.

  I pull a chair out for her, sliding my thumb to her wrist where I can feel her pulse throbbing. It’s a trick I learned from my father, on how to read people. He’s all about reading people because it helps him get whatever he’s seeking from them.

  As Emery lowers herself into the seat, the game slams to a halt. Everyone stares at her then at me, waiting for an explanation of who she is.

  “Sorry, but you’re going to have to introduce yourself,” I sign to Emery after I remove my fingers from hers then sit down in the chair beside her. “Not everyone here can read sign language.”

  A slow breath eases from her lips then she lifts her hand and gives a tentative wave. “I’m Emery… I, um, live upstairs.”

  Everyone stares at her again, including Luke and Violet. She seems like a misfit even in this company of misfits. Not just with her inexperience, but with her looks. Every part of her body and face seems like it was created to perfection, created to be the most flawless person. Big, crystal brown eyes; long eyelashes; plump lips; long, flowing brown hair; and skin as smooth as porcelain. And that’s just her face. Her legs go on forever, her body equally as long and lean. She’s so incredibly flawless I could see her being uncomfortable for some people to look at, her presence probably making them feel inadequate.

  When Emery isn’t looking, I glance at Luke and sign, “Dude, get them to stop staring.”

  Luke shuffles the stack of poker chips in front of him. “Emery, this is Seth,” he says, nodding at his old roommate sitting to the side of him.

  Seth smiles at Emery, thank God. “It’s nice to meet you, darling,” he says with a smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Emery relaxes, or so I thought until she reaches underneath the table and snatches ahold of my hand, grasping on so tightly she nearly breaks my damn fingers.

  “And this is Greyson, Seth’s boyfriend.” Luke points at Greyson, who’s in the chair beside Seth. He also used to be Luke’s roommate, but the two of them recently moved out and got a place of their own.

  The two of them say hello then Luke continues around the table with introductions. Seth and Greyson are the only people I know except for Harrison, a guy I’ve met a couple of times and who can’t seem to stop staring at Emery.

  Emery releases my hand so I can play a few hands for her and explain how the game works. I play the regular, noncheating way for about seven hands before I get restless. Luke’s already cheating but can’t drink any of the shots since he’s a recovering alcoholic so Violet throws them back for him.

  Unable to take it anymore, I slip a card out of my pocket. Emery gives me a puzzled, sidelong look. She gets mad points for not saying or doing something to give me away. When I win the next hand, Luke gives me a look, too.

  “Guess you’re taking a shot,” he says with a shit-eating grin as he slides a small glass of Jäger toward me.

  “I can’t, man. I have to work,” I sign with a hard look.

  He shrugs as he reclines back in the chair. “Guess you shouldn’t have won then.”

  “You say that like he did it on purpose,” Seth says as he examines his cards.

  Luke and I exchange a challenging look. It’s all for show. We really don’t give a shit if either of us cheats.

  “You haven’t had to take a single shot during any of your winning hands,” I argue with Luke.

  “Because Violet takes them for me.” An artful smirk curls at his lips.

  I glare at him as I reach for the shot, but Emery beats me to the punch, scooping up the glass. Before I can stop her, she puts the brim to her lips, throws back her head, and sucks the brown liquid down.

  Her expression remains neutral as she sets the empty glass down on the table and licks a drop of Jäger from her lips. “There. Problem solved.” Her voice quivers a little, but confidence radiates from her expression.

  My jaw drops. I’m so turned on I’m getting a hard-on.

  Luke’s eyes are wide as he cocks a brow at me.

  I shrug then sign, “Guess it’s time to deal her in.”

  He nods, impressed, and then shuffles the deck while the rest of the group counts their chips.

  “Oh, my God,” Emery whispers under her breath while everyone’s distracted. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  I lower my head into my hand, and my shoulders shake as I start to laugh. Laughter is one of the few noises I can still make, and Emery’s breath catches with the sound of it. I don’t want to read into her reaction too much, but it makes me wonder if I excite her as much as she intrigues me.

  Lifting my head, I take her hand in mine again and place the tip of my finger against her palm. I would have warned you if I had time. I write each letter out on her hand. You swallowed that like a badass, though.

  Her hand quivers under my touch. She opens her mouth to say something, but then surprises me when she flips my hand over and traces her words across my palm. You cheated on that hand. Her lips twitch with amusement.

  I grin, totally proud of myself as I flip her hand over and write, It’s how I was taught to play. I don’t usually do it anymore, but since we’re not really playing for money, I thought I’d have some fun.

  She bites her lip as she turns my hand over. Are you going to show me how to do that?

  The things I’d like to show her… God, if she knew, I’m not sure she’d be comfortable enough to let me touch her like this.

  Not today, I draw the letters across her hand. It’s an art and takes time, but I will eventually.

  Eventually? She traces back. Does that mean we’re going to be hanging out again?

  Well, at first I would have gone with a no, but it kind of seems like you can’t stay away from me. I mean, first you come storming down the stairs at me, demanding I
give your papers back. Then you literally run into me. And tonight, you come wandering down on your own. Plus, there’s the fact that you keep staring at me out your window every morning. It kind of seems like you’re obsessed with me. I grin so she’ll know I’m joking with her.

  She maintains my gaze even when her cheeks flush. Hey, at first, I only came to you because I wanted my papers back, but… Tonight, I’ll admit I was curious. She looks embarrassed, though, it feels like she’s flirting with me. Maybe that’s another thing she hasn’t done, either. And the only reason I stare at you is because I like to eat my breakfast in front of the window, and you just happen to be out there, writing in your little notebook.