Page 2 of Something Like Sugar (Pine Forest Something #2)

DUSTIN

A ballerina dances in the floor-to-ceiling window across from mine, her body calling me, night after night. Not for its grace, but for its strength . The unrelenting power that propels her through leaps and spins, with a humble smile.

She could out-press every grown man at the gym with thighs I shouldn’t think about.

She doesn’t see the beauty within that strength.

And I want her for that even more.

The way she hides beneath dark hoods and a mess of curls, tucked in the corner of my bar, headphones snug as her eyes drift closed and her toes tap to the beat of a song nobody can hear but her.

I could tell her how beautiful she is.

But she’s got something I can’t bring myself to touch.

Something real and honest. Something pure.

And even if I’ll never be half the man she’s worthy of, the shared streetlamps of our courtyard grant me a spotlit view of my secret ballerina.

Every night, my own private show.

Just me, the lights of the town-square, and my muse. A song with a body. An invisible girl in a corner booth, transformed like phoenix, blazing in a fire so bright you’d only miss it if you fought the moon for residence.

My sister’s best friend is the most stunning woman to walk this earth.

But while I allow myself a peek through her open window, I can’t allow myself to pass through that glass.

Shana Holiday is far too sweet for someone like me.

“You comin’, Hott Stuff?” Mandy… or was it Mindy, pokes my arm from where she’s leaning against my register. It annoys me she’s on this side of the bar at all, knowing me for all of two weeks.

We matched on Flinger. It’s not like this is a relationship. I take in her bubble gum eighties vibes, complete with dangling earrings and neon leg warmers. “Is this a costume thing, or do you always dress like Footloose?”

I’m being a dick, and fuck if it isn’t because she ruined my view of Shana from across the courtyard.

I sift my fingers through my hair and pull it into a tight bun at the back of my head, wishing emotions were so easily tidied. Thinking about Shana any more than I do is spiraling. She’s not mine.

Devyn’s best friend , I remind myself.

And I’m not hers.

But I’m certainly not Mindy’s either. I made it clear in my bio I’m only on this app for physical reasons, but does she know that?

I’m not that confident she does.

“I texted you the info, silly. It’s Barbie or Barbells themed.

I mean, you could like, take your shirt off and be fine,” Mandy says, batting her twice-fluffed eyelashes my way.

I realize she wants me. I’m not an idiot.

She’s the kind of woman I should be with, a butterfly tattoo on the middle of her lower back, lip filler and concealer over the worry of her eyes.

She’s rough, hardened to the world, like me.

Even if I don’t know her name, I know that much with one glance.

“Are you Mindy or Mandy?” I cringe, but she just waves it off, unwilling to make me the bad guy.

I don’t like that.

I am the bad guy who doesn’t remember her name.

Do I even want to fuck this woman?

“It’s Miranda, but that’s all right, everyone calls me some variation of Mandy, or Mindy, or even Manda. It’s okay, really.” She tucks bleach blonde hair behind her ear, and then I just feel like a shithead, because she’s cute and trying, and I’m fucking weak for someone I’ll never be with.

It’s not Miranda’s fault I’m like this.

And it’s clear from the way she’s texted this week, inviting me to meet her close circle of friends at this party tonight, that she wants what I can’t give.

“Miranda, can I be honest with you? I’m—”

“Emotionally unavailable?” She throws me a sideways grin.

“Yeah.”

“I could tell.” Her smile softens. “I get it.” She ties back her ponytail, exposing her midriff to the October air with a shiver.

“Here.” I offer a jacket.

“Thanks.” Miranda slips into the oversized zip-up. “She’s a lucky girl.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Lie to yourself if you wish.” She blows a bubble and lets it pop. “You look like a wounded puppy.”

“A what?”

“You gain nothing lying to yourself, trust me, now can we can move on to my personal crisis.”

“Your…what?” I scratch my beard. “Lying to myself? I’m not lying to anyone. So let’s say I love her, whatever, but just because you love someone, doesn’t mean you’re worthy of that person. What if they can do better?”

“You’re absolutely right!” Miranda’s eyes shine with realization. “I do deserve better than him. No matter how many times he claims to love me.”

“What?” I’m so confused. “Were we talking about me or you?

“Look,” She types a text and then shoves her phone back in her purse with a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t know what your reasons for not being with this person are, but my reasons for being on Flinger were specific, and I’m sorry I used you, but you kinda used me too, it sounds like.

Emotional placeholder and all. Anywho, I have an ex I need to make aware it’s over.

Can you just stand beside me looking hot and angry for the next hour with your shirt off? ”

Surprise and relief wash over me, and we both laugh, but hers is replaced by a tight-lipped seething when her phone buzzes again with a middle finger emoji.

“God, he’s such an ass.” She types back furiously.

I get the impression from her tense shoulders and shredded bottom lip that this man has been a constant source of worry, and everything I thought tonight was about dissolves to dust.

I’m not going to fuck Miranda. She reminds me of my sister, vulnerably brave, and I feel the instant need to keep watch around this ex of hers tonight, despite her hard exterior.

“C’mon,” I wink, “let’s show this idiot how stupid he was for messing it up with you.”

We lock up and walk through the courtyard. The streetlamps light the shop windows we pass while Miranda fills me in on the shithead who proposed to her after three months and got mad when she needed space, calling her place of work and telling them she would no longer need employment as his wife.

“The worst part is I actually fell for him. I thought I loved him. So stupid, because he said everything I wanted and I hardly took a breath before I said yes. Before I knew it, my lease had been terminated and all my stuff was moved into his apartment. When I told him it was too much, too fast, he started texted me these.” She shows me her phone.

I don’t need to read more than a few exchanges to see what’s going on. I memorize his number and whip my own phone out, sending the douche bag’s information to an old law enforcement buddy, satisfied with his reply of a simple check mark emoji. This asshole won’t be bothering Miranda any longer.

It’s infuriating that entitled men take advantage of women like Miranda, texting her degrading remarks and refusing to take a no. I’m suddenly glad I’ll be at this party to protect her.

Protect her .

A memory flashes in my mind, and I steal a glance at one window I can’t ignore.

Only this time I wish I hadn’t.

Because the same moment Miranda leans in with a thank you kiss to my cheek, draped in my hoodie and linked to my arm, my eyes meet Shana’s.

And all I see are tears.