#KILLME2

Chapter 3

#KILLME2

By: theinkslingerr

Chapter 3

"'Make it work' is some whack advice," Liam grumbled, sinking into the couch.

We were at his house, and I was forcing him to marathon Project Runway on Hulu while his mom made dinner and Nora played with Bunny on the floor. "It's generic as I don't know what, but Tim's just telling the contestants to push themselves. To do whatever it takes to win the challenge."

Nora glanced at me, then at the guy freaking out over the ugly jumpsuit he'd slapped together. The crotch was way too low. Practically dangling. It was a mistake I could see myself making if I didn't take my time with a garment. I was bomb at cutting patterns and embellishing, but got impatient with the seaming, which resulted in issues with fit.

"But that's why it's bad advice," Liam argued. "If people knew what it took to get what they wanted, don't you think they'd just do it?"

"Li-Li," Nora interrupted. Mrs. Grant told me she'd started calling Liam that as a baby and never stopped. "Can we do a fashion show?"

His dark blue eyes softened. They always went liquid for her. "OK, what do you wanna wear?"

Nora crawled over to the couch and yanked on a leg of his jeans, leaving Bunny to dart behind the TV, where he was no doubt pooping up a storm. "I want you to dress up."

He glanced at me, mildly terrified, and I grinned.

Thirty minutes later, Liam was prancing around the living room in a Nora Grant original— which was basically just a floral scarf and his mom's kimono-inspired robe. The TV was off and the house smelled like a buttery garlic baked chicken. Bunny was safely pooping in his cage, and Mrs. Grant, Nora, and I sat on the couch watching the one-man fashion show Liam had been roped into. Nora and I were facing off (we'd crown her the winner, of course), while Mrs. Grant was the judge.

"Yaaasss! Werk it, Liam, werk!" I hollered. "Think about your future student loans!"

He laughed, breaking the bougie, stone-faced character he'd settled into. Then he went to go change into my outfit.

"This is tough," Mrs. Grant said, mimicking Heidi Klum's German accent as she studied Liam. He'd slipped into a jean jacket and wrapped an over-sized plaid shawl around his waist. I'd insisted it could pass for a kilt. She opened her mouth to offer a fake critique when her husband walked through the front door.

Appearance-wise, Mr. Grant was nearly his wife's opposite. Where she was short and round with skin like chocolate charmeuse, he was tall and pale, the original owner of Liam's ocean eyes. I liked him, but he definitely wasn't as warm as Mrs. Grant. I didn't know if he was just a man of few words, or if he thought I wasn't good enough for his son.

"Daddy!" Nora abandoned the fashion show to jump on him. He caught her, but his knees buckled before locking up. She was not a light five-year-old. The interesting thing was how his eyes never left Liam, whose skin was light enough in the winter time to broadcast his embarrassment.

I squirmed on the couch as the air in the room got heavier. Mr. Grant didn't exactly look disgusted, but he didn't look thrilled either.

Clearing her throat and getting up, Mrs. Grant flashed me a sunny smile that didn't match the mood and said to Liam, "Why don't you change out of that. It's time for dinner."

He gave her a stiff nod, eyes flickering over to his dad before disappearing down the hallway leading to his room. Everyone got quiet again, except for sweet, precious Nora.