Lipgloss

She touched her lips again, fingers absentmindedly brushing over where his lips had been.

It had been days, but it was still all she could think about. His lips on hers. The way he’d pulled her in, like gravity had shifted and he was suddenly the centre of her world. The intensity in his eyes, locking onto hers like he could see straight through her, peeling back layers she didn’t even know she had. The way everything else around them blurred and disappeared, as if they existed in some secret universe where only they mattered.

Well, at least until he stabbed her in the back right after. But that wasn’t the point.

She sighed, dragging herself off the couch and chucking the empty lip gloss bottle into the bin. For what, the third time today? Fourth?

Yes, she’d bought it just yesterday. Yes, she’d definitely ingested a concerning amount of chemicals. And, okay, fine, maybe the nausea that had been creeping in for the last few hours wasn’t unrelated to the fact she’d been reapplying every chance she got, like some weird reflex.

But what else was she supposed to do? March up to him and ask for another? Honestly, she’d consider it. It had been worth the stab the first time.

Too bad her dad’s voice was still annoyingly present in her head, keeping her from bulldozing what was left of her dignity. Ugh. She could practically hear him lecturing her now.

“Don’t let anyone treat you like a doormat,” he’d said. “You’re worth more than that.”

Sure. Great advice, Dad. Except maybe that didn’t apply when the one doing the trampling had lips that made you forget your own name.

She sighed again, grabbed her purse, and slipped on her shoes. Looked like she’d be heading to the store for yet another bottle of lip gloss. “I guess this’ll have to do,” she muttered under her breath, heading out the door.