Girl In Pieces Read Online Free

your life because your heart didn’t break enough to actually kill you and you need to shower and go to the grocery store because you’re starting to smell a little funky and you’re almost out of toilet paper.
    Three weeks. That was how long anyone ever gets to feel sorry for themselves before being expected to move on.
    I didn’t hear from him for three weeks.
    So I moved on.
    Because I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. And Katherine Heigl always got the guy in the end and I kind of hated her stupid guts.

 
     
     
     
FOUR
     
    Beneath bands of bracelets, two rings of pale circular bruises colored Julie’s wrists. I watched her pace across her living room with her phone glued to her ear, and every time she flicked her hands I saw them. I didn’t know what had made them. Not hands, they were too clean edged and parallel. Handcuffs, maybe, or fabric. Not rope. Something with a tight weave. Stiff. Each line was smooth with long, faded coloring.
    While Julie argued with her mother, I followed her bruises and felt longing sink into my chest. Her nights had become an endless carousel of experiences with a guy named Tyler, the Dom who’d co-hosted the party with our friend Kelli where my life had gone sideways. He’d become smitten by her long, thin arms and overlarge smile and bursting personality. I watched them together on the rare occasion I went out with them and the way he looked at her was enviable. Sitting next to her wasn’t enough. He had to graze her hand, her hair, her elbow. Whenever they didn’t have an excuse to touch, he found one. I couldn’t not be happy for her, but watching them felt a little bit like torture.
    Julie made a strangled noise, ended the call, and tossed herself down onto the couch beside me, arms and legs slumped out in resignation.
    “My mother is ridiculous. Ridiculous . She met Tyler last night and she gave him her number . Who does that? She said he’s too experienced for me and that I should be dating young, silly men my own age. She told me I was embarrassing myself.” Julie scowled. “Washed up botoxed freak. If one more person points out or age difference, which is only six years I might add, I’m going to explode. Like, all over. Blood and guts and grey brain bits. The works.”
    “You’re disturbed.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and collected her in a hug. “What did Tyler do with the number?”
    “He gave it to the waiter. Asked him to deep fry it and leave it out back for the cats.”
    “Shut the front door. He didn’t actually say that.”
    “Swear to God.” She sighed and slumped lower. “He’s too perfect. I expect to discover he’s got his crazy wife locked in the attic any day now.”
    “Well, that sounds reasonable.”
    “Not that I would mind of course. As long as she doesn’t set the house on fire, it’s not a deal breaker.” I laughed and she patted my arms. “Want something to drink? We could get smashed, order pizza, and watch a Jane Austen movie where the heroines always win, even when they don’t deserve to.”
    “As much as I would love that, I actually have to go to work in the morning.” I cringed away from her. “At my new job.”
    “What!” Julie sat up and spun around to face me. “Like, a for real job? With hours and taxes and shit? When did that happen? And why didn’t you tell me? You’re not bearing cleavage and letting drunken men smack your ass for tips, are you? Because I could get you a job in the lab doing some humiliating physical labor you’d hate, but you’d get to do it fully clothed. You could have just asked.”
    “As far as I know, casual dress, no cleavage required. Although, ironically, I am editing sections of the Midtown Edge and organizing the personals, so there might be some spanking requests in there.” I shrugged and pulled at a loose thread at the knee of my jeans where I’d allowed a hole to form. I tried not to look too embarrassed, though giving in and getting a