Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (51)

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she mutters.

True, but I have a feeling that if seeing her toned legs makes me lose focus, the rest of her could do irreparable damage. After I spend a few moments listening to my heartbeat and the quiet noise of silk fabric, the comforter rustles and I turn to find her buried beneath it.

“You didn’t take your makeup off.”

She groans. “I’ll suffer the consequences.”

Growing up with a skin care-focused mom, I know that sleeping with makeup on is a nightmare for the skin. Though Sage’s skin is flawless, so I can’t really tell when she’s wearing makeup or not. But today the shimmer on her eyelids and the smoky outer corners make that obvious.

“What do you use to take it off?” I know nothing about makeup, but I think I could manage taking it off.

“Micellar water, but it’s in the bathroom, and I’m not getting up. That’s a problem for future Sage.”

Shaking my head, I slide open the bathroom door and sort through her toiletries to look for whatever the hell micellar water looks like. After examining each label, I find the clear liquid in a pink bottle, grab a face towel, and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sit up for me.”

She grumbles a refusal, so I have to lift her higher onto a pillow to have better access to her face. Dabbing some of the water onto the cloth, I wipe away the glitter first, then use more of the water to get her whole face. My thumb brushes against her smooth skin, and her eyes just barely flutter open.

She watches me as I continue taking all her makeup off. “This is above and beyond for fake boyfriend duties,” she whispers, words slurred from exhaustion and alcohol.

Once her face is clean and her moisturizer is on, we still don’t move. A hint of watermelon scent lingers on my hands and soaks into her brown skin. My neck aches from our awkward position, but I can’t find it in me to move or care when she looks at me like she’s mapping an entire constellation with her eyes.

“No, this is just Elias and Sage.”

“Unfiltered?”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Unfiltered.”





TWENTY-TWO


SAGE




THERE’S NOTHING MORE embarrassing than running through the streets of downtown Toronto in a leotard. It’s a Monday, so my schedule is packed, and the hangover from the weekend’s festivities did not help. It’s easy to pretend under the ruse of alcohol that I forgot about all the stupid things I may have said or the things Elias did that made my hands clammy. I’ve pretended like the night went the way it looked on social media when I posted about it.

The music in my headphones accompanies my sprint to the pharmacy, but the stares on the way there prevent me from getting lost in my playlist.

I forgot. Again.

Many things go into being a good older sister, and continuously forgetting to call your little brother or not making sure his medication is paid for before it runs out are not among them. Spotting the green cross, I’m almost to the pharmacy. A woman in a white coat stands behind the glass, reaching to flip the open sign to closed, but I barrel past the door, pushing her in the process.

“Sorry,” I say when I finally catch my breath. “I need to pay my invoice.”

She fixes her crooked glasses, giving me a look that is not nearly as friendly as the first time I met her. She recognizes me—or rather recognizes my tardiness.

“Ms. Beaumont,” she practically tuts. “Late payment again, I presume.”

I feign a smile, taking out my wallet as she leads me to the front counter. “Sorry, I just needed a little more time. The deductible is more than I expected.”

Instead of helping me herself, she waves over a technician whose smile I’ve become accustomed to from the many times I’ve had to come here. I’m lucky enough that the pharmacist doesn’t need to deal with me, otherwise her judgmental looks would risk me getting banned from the pharmacy.

“Sage, I’m glad you could make it,” says the technician. She taps at the keyboard, pulling up Sean’s profile. Her eyes widen.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning over the counter to look at the screen.

She hums, her lips pressing together as she clicks a few more times. “Looks like you had an unpaid invoice from last month.”

“I can pay for it now,” I rush out.

“And the new brand Sean is using has increased in price.”

My throat feels dry at her words. An increase? I can barely afford the current one while the deductible hasn’t been met.

“As for his deductible—”

“I swear I can pay for it. Just give me a few more days, and I’ll have my paycheck.”

“Ms. Beaumont—”

“Please, you know I’m good for it. His supply ran out, and I would never be this negligent, but you have to trust me.”

She puts a hand over my frantic one and looks at me levelly. I think she’s about to refuse, and I know I’m about to cry or threaten to rob this pharmacy. Jail be damned.

“Ms. Beaumont, it’s already paid for. Actually, it’s paid in full. Sean’s deductible is settled, and the remainder that insurance doesn’t cover is also paid for.”

I blink several times as if that will help me hear better. “What does that mean?”