26. Clit talk
Chapter 26
Clit talk
Ariana
“ L adies, get dressed. We’re going out,” Mom says with a big smile as she walks into the kitchen on Sunday morning.
“Where? And Why?” Lil asks, an eyebrow raised like she’s expecting to be tricked into getting vaccines at the doctor’s office. That hasn’t happened since we were kids.
“Hair and nails. I made us all appointments. Ari’s pink is fading, you’ve been talking about getting a trim, and we haven’t had pedicures in ages. I thought we could use some pampering.”
“Yeah, okay, I can get on board with that.” My pink has faded a lot in the last couple of weeks.
“Me, too. I’ll go tell Luca. This is totally one of the things on our list of things to do that he’ll hate,” Lil says gleefully, tapping her fingers like a super villain.
“It’ll just be us girls. Well, I’m sure Carlo and Ford will follow along in their own car, but your dad took Luca with him today.”
A wave of anxiety rushes through me at her words. I’ve gotten used to Luca being around. I don’t like the idea of leaving the house without him. Which is weird for me .
“That’s not fair. We had plans to torture that boy as much as possible.” Lil picks up her phone and starts narrating a text to Dad, complaining about him stealing our babysitter.
I sip my coffee and think about why I want Luca around so damn much. Mom glances at me out of the corner of my eye. Shit, that look means… something. I don’t know what, and I don’t think I want to find out, so I jump off the counter and tug on Lil’s hand. “Let’s go, bitch. These toes aren’t going to paint themselves.”
I pout in the back seat of Mom’s car because she insists on driving. We spend hours at our favorite salon. My pink peekaboos are stripped and replaced with a blue that I realize reminds me of Luca’s eyes after they’re done. I pick a matching gel for my toes because why the hell not at this point?
Gel on my toes is fine, but it gives me an icky, trapped feeling on my fingers most of the time. I like to be able to pick polish off and prefer to just paint them whenever the fuck I want to. So, while Lil and Mom get manicures to match their pedicures, I head next door to the tattoo shop, where all the DeVilles go. Ford follows me, rolling his eyes with a lazy grin on his face, then stands just inside the door like the good soldier and watchful uncle he is.
I pierce the other side of my nose with another stud and a small hoop under it like I’ve been wanting for a few months. On impulse, I get a few tiny studs put in one earlobe above the lowest hoops, like a miniature constellation.
Luckily my body handles new holes and ink well, because then I have Lee add another piece of dandelion fluff on my hip. He and Matt are unofficial members of the DeVille crew and do most of the tattoos for all of us.
I step back into the salon as their manicures are finishing up. “How many holes are in your ears now, Ari?” Lil asks with a curious grin.
I shrug. “Numbers are your thing.” I sit next to her and put my feet up on her lap while her hands are under the UV lamp. Mom raises an eyebrow at me but smiles softly. She just accepts me as I am.
“Seventeen.” Lil’s voice draws my attention back to her. “That’s how many holes are in your ears.”
“I doubt I’ll remember that,” I say with a shrug.
She grins because she knows I’m right. “What’s next? Your nipples?”
“I haven’t ruled it out.” Mom pointedly ignores us. But I’m in a mood. Smirking at Lil, I point to my right boob. “Maybe I should do just one. I could have a party nipple and a business nipple.”
Lil nods, going along with my bullshit. “That makes sense. Two party nipples might be too much. Especially if you decide you want a party in your pants.”
“Lunch?” Mom chimes in, clearly not wanting to talk about my clit in the salon.
We go to our favorite Italian place for lunch, eating our weight in pasta. As we’re finishing dessert, the back of my neck goes cold—like someone places ice against my skin. I instantly go still and focus on my breathing so I don’t panic.
I haven’t felt it in years. Not since…
No. It’s not that. I glance around but don’t see anyone watching me. After about a minute, the feeling goes away, so I brush it off.
It’s probably nothing.
I want it to be nothing.
After lunch, Mom drags us to an upscale boutique to find cute dresses to wear to the party, even though we already have like a million dresses at home.
“Okay, I found a dress you have to try on,” Lil says, bursting into my dressing room where I’m in my bra and panties. She’s seen me naked hundreds of times. She’s seen my scars hundreds of times. But her eyes still flash with anger every single time. She rarely gets murderous, but being reminded of what happened is guaranteed to bring out the rage.
This time, that anger quickly gives way to curiosity when she catches sight of the tiny piece of plastic on my hip covering the new tattoo next to the five that were already there. She pokes her head out of the door for a second, making sure Mom isn’t right outside.
“You added one for Luca.” It’s not a question. She knows how many I had. She knows each piece of dandelion fluff is for a person I love. Her, Dad, Mom, Becca, and Ford… and now, Luca.
“It just made sense.” I shrug, not sure how to explain it. Or if I even can explain it. But it’s Lil, so I don’t have to.
She holds my gaze for a moment, then nods and hands me the dress she found. It’s a soft pink and stops right above my knees. The top has thin straps, but none of my scars show.
We go out to the big mirrors where Mom is waiting, and Lil says, “Spin.” I cock an eyebrow but spin in a circle. The skirt flares out around me, and I make an ungodly squealing sound in delight. I can amuse myself for hours with a good skirt.
When we get home, Lil and I yell a quick greeting to Becca, then run upstairs to put our new stuff away. I grab a bunch of our slightly warmer clothes that we won’t need for a while and bring them into my closet. We try to keep current seasonal stuff in Lil’s and everything else in mine.
“Ari, are my pink heels in your closet?” Lil yells at me from her room.
I kneel to dig around and yell back, “Well, one is for sure. I’ll keep looking for the other one. We should clean this fucking thing, it’s a hot mess.” I call out a few surprise finds as I look for the other pink shoe, like, “Hey, did you know we still have our cowboy boots from freshman year?” And, “GOD DAMN IT, LILITH MAY! YOU LEFT A CANDY BAR IN MY FAVORITE CLUTCH, AND IT MELTED ALL OVER THE LINING!” I find the other pink shoe and toss them both over my shoulder as hard as I can, hoping they clear the door. Instead, I hear them thump into something.
“Ouch, fuck!”
I look over my shoulder at Luca standing in the doorway, rubbing his chest.
“Are you just standing there staring at my ass?”
“No, I just got here. I was about to tell you it’s dinner time when you threw shoes at me.”
“Mmmmhmmm, sure.” I stand and cross my arms but can’t keep my face serious because he’s still rubbing his chest like the shoe was a throwing star.
And I fucking missed him today.
“Nice boy band posters you have on your walls.” His smirk and teasing tone make it even harder to not smile.
“Like you didn’t put a poster of Harry Styles on your wall when you were fifteen.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Nah, I was more of a Niall Horan guy.”
I can’t contain the gigglesnort that bubbles out. He doesn’t seem to mind them. He’s blocking the doorway and doesn’t move when I step toward him. I look up, and he reaches a hand out to rub a piece of the blue hair that used to be pink between his thumb and fingers.
“Get bored of pink or something?”
“Or something.”
“I liked the pink, but I think I like the blue even better. It looks good on you.” Then his eyes shift to my nose.
He leans down and gently kisses the new piercings, light as a feather—but it feels like a truck slamming into my heart. “So do these,” he whispers with his lips hovering over my skin. When I recover from the full-body tremble his whisper sent through me, I pull my hair back and turn slightly, showing him my ear.
“I got that done today, too.”
He lightly kisses me there as well. I turn my head and do the same to his cheek before ducking under his arm and out the door.
“Let’s go, Beefcake, I’m starving.”