Page 43
Story: Stealing Sunshine
Bryce holds my stare and nods. It’s hardly more than a sharp jerk of her chin, but I have a feeling I won’t get more than that right now.
She crosses the room and hovers at the edge of the bed. For someone who was just working out, she smells really good. Like her usual spiced berry perfume, but with something almost a bit sweet thrown in.
Definitelynotpaying too much attention to the inches she keeps between her arm and my bent knee, I bring the phone between us so we’re both visible and grin at my sister.
“Say hi, Giana,” I muse.
My sister huffs a laugh. “Hi, Bryce.”
“Hey,” Bryce says.
“Daisy was just telling me all about you.”
“I was not!” I argue, my neck warming. Swinging my head, I stare up at Bryce. “I definitely was not.”
My new roommate and fake girlfriend watches me for all of three seconds before asking my sister, “What did she tell you?”
“Just that you keep a jar of old fingernail clippings on your bedside table.”
The corner of Bryce’s mouth twitches, and I itch to reach up and lift it higher, curious as to what a real, happy smile looks like on her.
“I hope you don’t mind that I only told her that once she admitted how you keep a tooth from each of your exes in a sock under your pillow,” Bryce replies, completely straight-faced.
Giana covers her mouth, gasping loudly. “Daisy! That’s a secret!”
“Oops.”
“It seems that my girlfriend has loose lips,” Bryce states.
I press my lips together to hide my sharp inhale when she just flat out drops that bomb like it’s such an easy, casual thing tosay. I’m grateful that she was the one to bring it up, but damn. I wasn’t expecting it.
“I’m sorry, what?” Giana asks, all signs of her humour gone.
I smile too big, hoping it will help her relax. “Surprise!”
Giana clears her throat, eyes blinking furiously. Bryce doesn’t waver beneath my sister’s heavy gaze, but that doesn’t surprise me. She’s got a backbone that I would kill to borrow for a day or two.
“Is this a prank?” Giana accuses.
I fidget on the mattress and reach for a pillow, tugging at the edge of its cover. “No, Gi.”
She focuses harder on us, nose crinkling slightly. “Then why are you standing so far apart? Do you not like to touch one another? Because touch is an important part of a relationship. Momma taught us that.”
The question startles me. It’s a valid one, but not one I’m sure how to answer. Thankfully, I’m pretty quick with thinking on my feet.
While Bryce stands frozen in place, her tongue jabbing into her cheek, I slide to the edge of the bed and grab her hand. She jolts at the contact but hides it with a twist of her body, posture loosening muscle by muscle. I thread our fingers together and rest them gently in my lap.
Her breaths are audible, heavy, and I’d bet mine sound the same. I’m content with the small contact, and when Giana leans back from the camera, it seems so is she.
“New relationship jitters? Been there,” she says.
I blow out a relieved breath. “Yeah, we’re still a bit awkward.”
“How did it happen? And why wasn’t I called immediately after?”
This is what I was waiting for and thought about all morning. Every word falls off my tongue like a well-rehearsed script.
“It only happened a few days ago, Gi. Once I moved in and we got to spending time together, it was obvious that Bryce wassomeone that I wanted to get to know even better. And the connection was just . . . instant. I’ve been away for so long, and I decided I didn’t want to waste any time beating around the bush.”
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