The Sweetest Sting

9

Rora stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. She wrapped it around herself and stared into the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks flushed but she felt... well not good. More like numb.

She only had herself to blame for all of this. The moment Amelia had arrived, Rora knew she couldn't show anyone too much attention. That's why she'd been so careful with Ozzy. Never sitting too close or smiling too long. Lewie had been different. It had felt safe to be affectionate because they were clearly just friends. When it became more than that, Rora had lost all sense of discretion. She wanted to touch him. Snuggle with him. Laugh at his jokes. Squeal when he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. And she'd paid the price for that.

Moving mechanically, she flossed and cleaned her teeth. Put on her serum and face cream. Spritzed a bit of oil through her braids. She did everything she could think of, because she wasn't ready to leave yet. To face anyone who might see the hurt she was wearing too close to her skin. So she searched through the mess of lotions that were on the counter until she found the one Bella brought but never wore. She said it smelled too musky on her. Not sugary enough. But on Rora's skin, the honeyed sweetness seemed to balance perfectly with the scent of damp earth and flowers. She flipped the cap and breathed it in. It smelled like the vast garden her father tended as if it were his personal religion. It reminded her of the orange blossoms brushing her arms as she ran between citrus trees, on the hunt for the bee hives with the most honey dripping from their man made homes.

Back then, things had been so simple. She and Amelia had been best friends. Fearlessly putting their hands into the bee boxes and taking bites of honey straight from the combs. Back when being stung was just another part of life that you dealt with, because the sweetness made everything worthwhile.

Life's stings hurt a lot less back then.

Sniffing it once more, she nodded and dropped her towel in a heap beside the sink and began applying lotion to her shoulders and arms and as much of her body as she could reach. She lost herself in the scent and the bittersweet happiness it reminded her of. So much so, that she didn't hear the people talking in the hallway until they were right by the door.

"You know how I feel about her and you can't stop playing games," Ozzy hissed.

"I'm not playing any games," Marshall said lightly. "I mean, I definitely came here to ruin your fun, but the truth is, I like Rora. I want Rora. She's available. Anyway, I'm more her type than you are."

"You don't know anything about her or her type!"

"I know enough." Marshall sounded somehow both amused and bored.

She froze. They were fighting. About her. She didn't know how to feel about that. Right at the moment, it was a numb sort of interest. A tiny toxic rush of endorphins that came from feeling dejected and wanting to believe that anyone liked her enough to fight over her.

"You don't care about the damage you do. Who you hurt. But I care about that girl and I'm not gonna let you do this to her."

Marshall snorted. "Oz, I love you, but you're so full of shit. You think I don't notice all the little glances you give her. That cute little snarly face you make when anyone grafts her?" There was a creak in the floor, as if he'd moved closer to the door. "You're over here with one girl dangling from your willy, while you're dying to hang a second one there."

"No. I'm not like you, I wouldn't do that. I–"

"No, you wouldn't admit to doing that. That's where we're different. I'm going to be completely up front when I shag Rora senseless. Because I'm honest. I never pretend to be anything other than what I am. But you? You've always done this saint act, playing Mr. No-Hookups, but you never tell the whole story."