Darling, Dove Preview
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Prologue
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“I don’t know that I like the new uniforms,” Fiume muttered. “Maybe I should have gone with slacks.”
No. Nope.
No slacks for them.
Dove figured the magazine in front of her face hid the disgusted expression that spoke her truth out loud, but alas...
Fiume still noticed.
“I can see exactly what you think of that idea without you even saying a word, Dove. I can’t be wearing something I hate everyday, though.”
She didn’t really hate it. She just hated the attention she would get wearing it. Those were not the same things.
“Bit late to figure out your uniform preference,” Dove replied, “given it’s the first day of school.”
Their first day of high school, actually.
“Yeah, but I thought they looked longer in the bags.”
Standing back from the bathroom mirror, Fiume posed her body side to side, putting too much effort into trying to smooth down the way the pleats of the skirt laid on her hips.
A useless task. That skirt only added to the flair of her hips and thighs, unlike Dove’s tall, willowy figure next to her in the mirror.
She wasn’t jealous of Fiume’s body, or how different it was from her own. In fact, hers came from good genetics and meant she wouldn’t have to work very hard to maintain her figure at the standard of whatever modeling agency she signed with...when the time came.
Fiume, on the other hand...
“You don’t think it makes me look fat?”
A snort fell from Dove. So unlady-like.
“Ridiculous, Fi.”
“I’m serious,” Fiume said, still staring in the mirror unhappily.
Well, this needed to end, and fast.
They’d already wasted enough time in the basement bathroom where, apparently, only a handful of students cared to use because most thought it haunted.
A little detail the two girls knew about Ashbourne Academy thanks to Fiume’s older sister, two grades higher than them, who passed the info along.
It also happened to be a good place to skip class, and smoke, as the high crank windows sat at ground level. Any smoky tendrils dissipated fast.
No ghosts here. Just loud pipes and naughty girls.
Shortly, the bell would ring for homeroom. So, yeah, she did need to put an end to Fiume’s insecurities. In the best, and only, way she knew how...
Dove barely glanced over the edge of the magazine she skimmed to give her best friend a side-eye. “You’re joking, right? Please, tell me you’re joking.”
“Well, no. Not really. I mean they’re really short, Dove. Like—”
“Do a spin.”
“What?”
“Spin for me.”
Fiume sighed but still spun a circle on the spot.
Did she feel the way the air breezed along her black panty line as the pleated black skirt lifted enough to peek at the bottom of her shapely ass? Dove didn’t ask, or point out how much one could see, she just enjoyed the show.
Too many girls wished they had the sort of hips and curves to their bodies that Fiume did for Dove to let her complain about it.
She spent way too much time seeing everything she thought was wrong about herself instead of learning and loving all the things that were right.
No, the job of reminding—and showing—Fiume the truth fell to Dove.
She didn’t mind. It had benefits.
“Another spin?” Dove requested sweetly.
Fiume gave her a look.
Dove twirled a finger.
“You’re the worst.”
“Come on.” She gave her girl a knowing smile and a little wink just for good measure. “For me, Fiume?”
She knew the full name would do it. Her girl loved how her name sounded on Dove’s lips. Fee-oh-may.
“Fine.”
Fiume twirled again, spreading her arms wide like she’d just done a trick when she finished. “You can practically see my ass, can’t you?”
“Looks fine to me,” Dove said, going back to the article in Vogue. “I don’t see a problem.”
“Dove! I probably can’t even bend over, can I?”
“I mean, none of us should, wearing these.”
“Okay, that’s fair.”
She shoved the magazine in her shoulder bag and pulled her phone out.
Turning it on camera mode, she eyed the vision of Fiume through a lens of her own making.
In the school regulated uniform of the standard black pleated skirt, matching blazer, white undershirt, and knee-high black stockings, her best friend was the vision.
At least, they could accessorize how they pleased, including shoes.
Fiume’s deep red bob, tucked behind her ears, framed her oval face and delicate features.
The spattering of ruby studs along the shell of both her ears glinted under the overhead lights.
Add on the red lip and smoked out, dark eyes, and Fiume gave the god-awful uniform enough edge to make Dove ache just looking at her.
All her dreams come true, right there.
It truly was on the administrators for the shortness of the hemlines, and the fact they didn’t consider how some girls had actual hips and thighs to cover.
Dove didn’t mind taking advantage.
“Stop it, you’re not taking a picture of me right now.”
“Oh, yes, I am. You’ll see.”
“Dove.”
She tilted her left shoulder inward, cocked her chin up, and pushed out her chest, modeling what she wanted Fi to do. “Do that for me, would you? Then, jut your left hip out, too.”
“Dove!”
“Do it.”
Fiume did. “Happy?”
“No smile, no pout. Just stare. Do something with your freaking hands. Look off to the side.”
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this right now.”
“Whatever, you’re doing it, so...”
Fiume had, in fact, posed exactly as she’d been told. The thing she did with her hands? Two middle fingers, straight at Dove. She lived for it.
Dove snapped the shot.
“Perfect,” she declared, turning the phone. “See, Fi? Fucking beautiful. In everything.”
Fiume lips quirked higher on the right side. “I do look cute.”
“Cute?” Dove shook her head and tossed the phone back into her bag. “You’re smoking. So hot.”
That earned her a roll of Fiume’s eyes.
It wasn’t good enough for Dove.
“Nope,” she told her, “see, we’re not leaving this bathroom until you know what I do.”
She let each word carry her closer until Fi had backed into the counter of sinks and Dove had a hand on either side of her.
Four or so inches taller than her, Dove always liked the way their slight height difference allowed her to take up the whole field of vision when she wanted or needed Fiume to pay attention to her the most. Locking eyes with her best friend, she tilted her head to the side.
“I coulda took a picture of what I wanted to look at for the rest of the day,” she informed smartly.
Fi grinned up at her. “Let me guess, how good I’d look bent over?”
“Winner, winner.”
“Gonna have to pass.”
“Only because Daddy might see it,” Dove returned, speaking of her father, not Fiume’s. That was a whole other issue between them altogether. Now was not the time to get into it. “I can’t help he tracks my phone, okay?”
“Mmm. Kinda illegal, anyway.”
Yeah, that, too.
“I don’t know how you see me like that,” Fiume admitted quieter.
Dove arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like that picture you took. I don’t get it. I never see me like that, and you—”
“I see you as you are, Fi.”
Fiume peeked up at her through lowered lashes. “Yeah, you always do, huh?”
And nobody else did.
Which was both a blessing and the problem.
A blessing to Dove because she knew who Fiume really was, all her secrets and fears.
Best friends since birth, practically, born just days apart.
All the rest which came later, well, that had been just as easy.
Like falling into step together. Synchronized breathing.
Everyone else would just make it hard, so they didn’t tell anybody. Not Dove’s twin brother. Not Fiume’s closest sister. No one, but that was the problem, too. Secrets only felt good for so long.
The two of them had been keeping this one since the night of their thirteenth birthday party. A shared event, as their parents had done almost every year since they were toddler age. Their parents had been friends forever, and it just made sense.
Dove still hated thinking about when it changed.
That party...
SJ, her twin, dared Damiano to kiss Fiume just because—never been kissed, apparently. Dove hated every second of watching. Later, when Fi asked if she’d ever kissed a boy, Dove spoke the truth. No, and she didn’t want to.
Why not?
Fiume asked her that in bed later during the sleepover they had after the birthday party. Face to face but always side by side, and Dove told her the truth again.
I don’t like boys.
Fiume was her first kiss, and should be her last, too, if she had anything to say about it...Dove tended to get what she wanted one way or another.
“I see you as you are,” Dove repeated, dropping a quick kiss to Fi’s painted red lips.
Good thing their lipsticks matched. A rule between them now. They had a few of those.
“Careful doing that here,” Fi warned.
“Doing what, this?”
She kissed her again. That time, Fiume kissed back. The bell rung, too.
“I’ll do that wherever I damn well want,” Dove joked.
Except it wasn’t a joke. Not at all.
Dove almost didn’t hear the swing of the bathroom door because of it, but she managed to step back from the counter, and Fi, in just enough time that it didn’t look too suspicious. The scene between them, of course.
The way she looked, though? Her face?
Oh, it was always there. All she had to do was stare at Fiume. She wondered why nobody else ever saw it.
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1. — the first week curse...
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Staten Island, New York
Nico Russo, Ashbourne Academy Stadium
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The sweep of Nico’s thumb against the back of his wife’s stocking-covered knee helped to relieve some of the tension coiling throughout her body. She finally uncrossed her arms while speaking with the player on the field.
Tryouts sucked every year, and while her contract said this would be the last one she had to hold as the full-time coach at Ashbourne, he doubted the knowledge helped Frankie through it.
“Your problem is not the capability to run the drills, you’re right,” Frankie told the boy—Dylan—and keeping a civil tone in the face of his defiance. “And it’s not even your skill level doing it that’s the problem.”