Unbeautiful
Page 22

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.