Page 70 of Make Me Pretty

He huffs a whine. “Fine.Here it is.” He stops in front of a dark gray door, slightly ajar. When I pull back, I notice there’s old, dried gum shoved in the strike plate. My eyebrow lifts. Gabe shrugs. “Been up here a few times myself.”

“To…?”

“Smoke. Sometimes,” he adds quickly at my glare. “When it’s not ball time.”

Great.So, Abel’s probably up here getting stoned—as if he wasn’t completely fucked up just last night. I pull open the door and step into muted darkness.

“I’m expecting a full play-by-play later.”

“In your fucking dreams, Avalos.”

“Ugh, you’re right.”

The doorsnicksshut as I take the few extra steps to another door and push it open. Sunlight beams across the flat rooftop, forcing me to lift my hand to block the rays, eyes scanning for the perfect, little body.

Smoke curls around his fingers from where he sits—on the fuckingedge.Anger and something akin to fear flips inside me, pulling me closer.

“Abel.”

His head doesn’t turn as he dips it in acknowledgement. White hair falls in front of his face, parting around the silver adorning his ears. “Peris.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“What areyoudoing up here?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”

“Why not?”

I part my lips to retort but snap my jaw closed just as quickly. I’m beside him and yanking him back by his hair in a few seconds flat. The joint falls from his fingers to the concrete and rolls around by his feet as he scrambles.

His scuffed shoes scrape over some rocks, arms flailing as he falls back against me. Feeling his round ass rubbing against my thighs while the smell of weed permeates the air sends me over the edge.

I step back while keeping his hair in my fist, smirking as he crashes to the ground. “Ow, shit!” He scrambles, palms scraping over rocks. With a hiss, he tries to pull away, only to be stopped short when I yank him in the opposite direction.

“Feeling a little slow,hm?”

“Fuck off, Peris. Let go of me.”

“No. What the hell are you doing up here?”

His head slowly turns, steel eyes glaring at me over his shoulder. “Are you stupid or just completely unobservant?”

I crouch down, hissing in his face as I expose his throat to the light. His larynx is so sharp as it bulges from his skin, and I can’t resist sinking my teeth into the flesh-covered cartilage. Abel moans pathetically, black lashes fluttering against his gaunt cheekbones.

“Yeah, you like that shit.” His mascara is dark against his bruised skin, lashes so long they skim his eyebrows when they open.

“So do you,” he bites back. “Do you plan on ripping my hair out?”

I glance at my fingers, now blanched from the pressure. I shrug and hum noncommittedly. “Maybe. You’d probably be even uglier bald.”

“Yeah, hence why I havehairto begin with.” Abel pulls against my hold, and I release him. He leans down and swipes up the joint to press it to his lips. I scowl at the cherry glowing brighter on a long inhale. Abel leaves it to hang between his lips as he leans back on his palms, chest extended on a breath he’s holding.

After counting to ten in my head, he finally blows it out in a stream of pungent gray smoke. I watch as it curls in the air before dissipating. Abel’s head hangs back between his shoulders, letting the warmth of the sun wash over his pale complexion.

He’s gotta be cold, clad in only an over-sized hoodie and jeans, but he looks content.

I want to ruin it. Preserve it.