Restraint is Useless Here

Chapter Nine

"How do I look?" Anna twirled around, her mid-length skirt billowing as she danced around her bedroom, snapping her fingers and swaying her hips to a dance song on the radio. Shimmying over to Maria, she snatched a slice of cheddar cheese and a cracker from Maria's plate. As she took a bite, crumbs peppered the page of magazine Maria was reading. Maria's brown eyes peered up scornfully before she wiped the crumbs away and resumed thumbing through the pages.

"Like a dead woman," she replied flatly. "And like you're going to a Sunday picnic with your grandma, not a rock concert."

Anna narrowed her eyes and shot her friend a sardonic smirk. She spun back around to look at her reflection: she paired a sleeveless, button-up chambray top with a gauzy white skirt. She looked nice. Grandma's approval wasn't such a bad thing, anyway.

"First off," Anna began, ticking off her fingers as she counted. "I've never called in sick before, so I'm still very much alive. Second, you're off tonight, so you have nothing to bitch about. And third, almighty Fashion Wench, what does one wear to a rock concert?"

"Eyeliner. Gold hoops. Black. Low necklines. Show some tetas. That would make Sexy Guitar Guy squirm." A devious grin crept across Maria's face as she swept her midnight-colored hair up in a top knot. Anna knew she meant business once the top knot came into play—Maria's equivalent of a mechanic rolling up their sleeves. "Listen, just give me the reins. I will make you erupt. When I'm finished, you'll be so scorching, you will give hard-ons that could drill through a mountain."

Anna blinked several times. "A little heavy on the imagery, Maria. Also, terrifying."

She did, however, spare a few extra seconds thinking about whatever Brian had in his pants. Ever since the night he starred in her escapist fantasy—truthfully, ever since the night they met—she couldn't pull her mind away from the idea of him. She understood it was likely just a result of being in this toxic relationship for so long, but she was human and, well, he was beautiful. And infuriating. And completely narcissistic. And very much not hers. In fact, she would bet good money that after he saw the bruises, she was nothing but a human red flag.

As far as she'd distanced herself from Jack emotionally, she still hadn't mustered the courage to end it. Most of her free time that week had been devoted to researching security systems, restraining orders, and obtaining a permit to carry a concealed weapon. She needed out, but first she needed a safe place to end it and a plan for self-preservation afterward. Unfortunately, she had no solid plan for any of these things.

"No matter how hard you're pushing Sexy Guitar Guy, I have a boyfriend and he's picking me up in an hour," Anna reminded Maria. And herself.

Maria fell back onto Anna's bed with a huff, loosing out a string of Spanish expletives under her breath.

"And even if I didn't have a boyfriend," Anna continued, stepping out of her skirt. "Sexy Guitar Guy could have his pick of any woman in California. I guarantee a starry-eyed bartender isn't high on his 'To Do' list."

"Oh, stop with the white girl pity party. I saw how he looked at you. There's no mistaking that kind of fire." Maria's head popped up, donning another mischievous smile. "Wait, did you just admit he's got you starry-eyed?"

Anna threw her skirt over Maria's head, if for no other reason than to hide her own rotten, lying face.

A chime across the room alerted a text message. Anna strode bottomless to retrieve her phone from her computer desk as Maria began rifling through Anna's closet.

I've got some errands to run before the show, read a text from Jack. I'll have to meet you there. Can Maria drop you off?

Closing her eyes, Anna held her phone to her chest for a moment before turning around. Waves of varying emotions crested through her; she felt each of them playing out across her face, an open book as usual. Irritation at Jack's selfishness—she was the one who got the tickets and he had the gall to inconvenience her at her last minute to appease himself. Relief that she didn't have drive with him. After all, less time spent with Jack was less time playing the actress. But just underneath the surface, a muddied emotion gripped her core. It undulated and bloomed, eclipsing any other feelings she'd registered as she realized that this—this—was her pivot point.