When I walked out of my room a little after nine, Kenton was at the top of the stairs, his foot on the top landing. His head turned, our eyes locked, and my body started to vibrate from the look in his eyes. I wouldn’t even call it hunger; it was more than that. His eyes took me in and his jaw started ticking.
I knew what he saw; I had on a black, strapless dress that formed to my body like a second skin. Black pumps wrapped around my ankles, lifting me up on four-inch spiked heels. My hair was up on top of my head with little pieces out framing my face. I had on minimal makeup but dark-red lipstick.
“H—” I started to greet him when he looked up at me again, but he opened the door to his room and slammed it closed behind him. I stood there for a second, and then I flipped off his closed door and made my way downstairs. When Tara arrived at the house ten minutes later, Kenton came barreling downstairs like a caveman.
Before I could get out the door and close it behind me, he pulled me inside by my hand, shut the door, and then kissed me. It was not a sweet kiss; it was rough, aggressive, and it left me panting. When his mouth left mine, his eyes were heated and still glued to my lips.
“It didn’t come off,” he mumbled. I had no clue what he was talking about as his thumb swiped my bottom lip. “Fuck!” His eyes came to mine, and I was frozen in place; all I could do was stare at him. “Why won’t your goddamn lipstick come off?”
“It’s smudge-proof,” I whispered, shaking my head out of my daze. I took a step back, and his eyes narrowed.
“I don’t like it,” he growled.
“What?”
“Your hair, those heels, and that mouth.” He shook his head then ran a hand though his already messy hair. “I don’t like it.”
My eyes narrowed and I opened the door. “Too f**king bad,” I snapped over my shoulder as I went down the porch steps. I opened the door to Tara’s car, getting in quickly and slamming it closed only to look up as he roared loud as f**k as I put on my seatbelt.
“So, what did you do to piss him off?” Tara asks, bringing me out of my thoughts once again.
“I have no clue. That man is confusing. One minute, he’s kissing me, and the next, he’s complaining about my lipstick.”
“What’s wrong with your lipstick?” Derik asks, joining us at the bar.
“No clue,” I repeat, giving him and Stan a hug.
“Good, ’cause you look hot and your lipstick is hotter,” Stan says, leaning across the bar to call the bartender over. I give him a small smile before going back to my drink.
“So how’s Mr. Rough and Rugged?” Derik asks, taking the beer Stan is handing him.
“Who?” I ask.
“You know, the guy from the emergency room,” he clarifies.
“That’s who doesn’t like her lipstick,” Tara adds out of nowhere.
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Stan says with a knowing smile.
“What’s wrong with my lipstick?” I run my fingers over my lips, wishing now that I hadn’t worn it.
“Girl, you are not stupid. I don’t have a penis, but even I know that, when a man sees a woman who looks like you wearing red lipstick that makes her lips look even fuller, all he can think about is shoving something between them.”
“You did not just say that.” I frown at her.
“It’s the truth, girly,” Derik says.
Images of some of the women I have seen in Vegas, the ones who sell themselves, flash through my head, all of them with their bright-red lips and bedroom eyes.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I stand and don’t even wait for Tara when she calls for me. I run into the bathroom and franticly wipe at my lips, trying to get the color off.
“Autumn, stop it. What are you doing?”
Tears spring to my eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to fight them off. I wipe my mouth again and again, but the color won’t come off no matter what I do. Stupid smudge-proof lipstick!
“Autumn, please stop,” Tara says more quietly this time, her hands going to mine at my lips.
“I just want it off.”
“You know men will think the same thing whether you’re wearing lipstick or not. Some guys are ass**les. You’re beautiful and sweet. Please don’t let something as stupid as lipstick f**k with our night out.”
I take a second and let her words sink in, and I let out a long breath. “Thank you,” I tell her, pulling the tissue away from my mouth.
“We’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”
It feels good to be friends with a woman, someone who knows what I’m going though, someone I can talk to about the stupid things like I’ve seen women on TV talk to each other about.
“Now, are you ready to finish our drinks?” she asks, making me smile.
“Yes,” I say immediately. I look in the mirror, quickly making sure I look okay before following her out of the bathroom.
When we reach the bar, Derik and Stan have disappeared.
“Do you see them anywhere?” Tara asks, stretching to try to see over the crowd on the dance floor.
“No.” I look around, but there are so many people here that I can’t even move without bumping into someone. “Oh wait, I think I see them.” I grab Tara’s hand and start to lead her through the crowd to where I think I spotted Stan and Derik.
I look back over my shoulder when she stops dead in her tracks, causing me to teeter in my heels. I start to ask her what’s wrong, when she yells at the top of her lungs, “I love this f**king song!” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at her. The song is ‘Sexy and I Know It,’ and as much as people like the song, I really doubt anyone actually loves it.