Read Online Between the Lives by Jessica Shirvington - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Shirvington
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eyes widened. ‘Oh! I see. Plans .’
I nodded, blushing.
The corners of his mouth went up. ‘Plans sound good.’ He went back to his doctoring, putting a plaster on my arm. ‘You should probably get a tetanus check. You don’t know what you might have cut yourself on down there.’
I nodded just as Miriam came gliding into the kitchen.
‘Woah. You okay, Sabine?’ She paused in the doorway. Miriam doesn’t do blood.
‘I am now, thanks to Dex.’ I hopped off the counter and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, making a quick getaway before I had to divulge any more about the ‘plans’.
I slipped an arm through Miriam’s on my way out of the kitchen to cover my shaking hands. As we headed to the pool she proceeded to tell me in graphic, and unwanted, detail about her last thirty minutes with Brett. In my bedroom.
Some things are best left unshared.
Someone passed me a drink and despite still feeling sick and light-headed I sipped on it, claiming a layback chair at the head of the pool. The next two hours passed by in a welcome blur.
At last Lucas shut off the music.
No one seemed to mind, and I couldn’t have been happier to hear the pounding stop. Lucas launched into adult mode: patrolling, telling kids to get lost, checking that the drinkers weren’t driving. Then he simply up and left. That was Lucas.
I figured he didn’t want to stay behind and explain any of the night to Mom, who walked in about five minutes after he left, took one look at me and ordered me upstairs to bed.
I guess it was obvious I was drunk.
Her parting words informed me we’d be having a more in-depth discussion in the morning. I nodded and told her tipsily I was looking forward to the follow-up.
By some miracle, I managed to get out of my dress and into my pyjamas before I collapsed, face first, onto my bed.
When I woke up, it took no time at all for everything to come flooding back. It felt like reality reached out and walloped me across the face. Hard.
I was out of bed and in front of my mirror in an instant, staring at the same image of myself I always saw in this world – if a little puffy around the eyes. My long brown hair was stuck to one side of my face and hung down to just above my waist. I lifted my top to show a very normal bare expanse of skin over my ribs and belly, and both my legs and arms were unmarked save for the relatively small scratch I’d received in the basement.
I grabbed my watch off the nightstand. It was just after midday, which meant the laxatives had had plenty of time to work their way into my system.
I went to the bathroom. No sign of the packet-promised results. But while I was in there I did throw up. Due, I’m fairly sure, to my vodka-punch consumption over the course of the night more than anything else. I mentally chastised myself and resolved never to get drunk again.
I had no idea what to do with all this newfound information, so I opted for routine. I had a shower, changed into a cute sundress and put on my favourite red kitten heels. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, so I plastered a smile on my face and went downstairs – only to endure a forty-five-minute lecture from Mom.
After the tenth time she said, ‘I just want what’s best for you,’ I zoned out, studying the walnut grain of the dining table. Her heart wasn’t in it anyway. And when she huffed and pushed a sandwich in front of me, saying, ‘You look like you’re fading away,’ I knew the lecture was over.
The smart thing would’ve been to go back to bed. I needed more sleep. I’d lost count of how many hours I’d been awake – in both lives – before finally passing out in the early hours of the morning. But with my swirling thoughts sleep wasn’t really an option. And besides, there was something even more pressing that I absolutely had to do.
‘Cut it. Not too much, and shape it around the sides, leaving the length at the back. Colour needs to be much lighter, but with tones. Make sure you
I nodded, blushing.
The corners of his mouth went up. ‘Plans sound good.’ He went back to his doctoring, putting a plaster on my arm. ‘You should probably get a tetanus check. You don’t know what you might have cut yourself on down there.’
I nodded just as Miriam came gliding into the kitchen.
‘Woah. You okay, Sabine?’ She paused in the doorway. Miriam doesn’t do blood.
‘I am now, thanks to Dex.’ I hopped off the counter and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, making a quick getaway before I had to divulge any more about the ‘plans’.
I slipped an arm through Miriam’s on my way out of the kitchen to cover my shaking hands. As we headed to the pool she proceeded to tell me in graphic, and unwanted, detail about her last thirty minutes with Brett. In my bedroom.
Some things are best left unshared.
Someone passed me a drink and despite still feeling sick and light-headed I sipped on it, claiming a layback chair at the head of the pool. The next two hours passed by in a welcome blur.
At last Lucas shut off the music.
No one seemed to mind, and I couldn’t have been happier to hear the pounding stop. Lucas launched into adult mode: patrolling, telling kids to get lost, checking that the drinkers weren’t driving. Then he simply up and left. That was Lucas.
I figured he didn’t want to stay behind and explain any of the night to Mom, who walked in about five minutes after he left, took one look at me and ordered me upstairs to bed.
I guess it was obvious I was drunk.
Her parting words informed me we’d be having a more in-depth discussion in the morning. I nodded and told her tipsily I was looking forward to the follow-up.
By some miracle, I managed to get out of my dress and into my pyjamas before I collapsed, face first, onto my bed.
When I woke up, it took no time at all for everything to come flooding back. It felt like reality reached out and walloped me across the face. Hard.
I was out of bed and in front of my mirror in an instant, staring at the same image of myself I always saw in this world – if a little puffy around the eyes. My long brown hair was stuck to one side of my face and hung down to just above my waist. I lifted my top to show a very normal bare expanse of skin over my ribs and belly, and both my legs and arms were unmarked save for the relatively small scratch I’d received in the basement.
I grabbed my watch off the nightstand. It was just after midday, which meant the laxatives had had plenty of time to work their way into my system.
I went to the bathroom. No sign of the packet-promised results. But while I was in there I did throw up. Due, I’m fairly sure, to my vodka-punch consumption over the course of the night more than anything else. I mentally chastised myself and resolved never to get drunk again.
I had no idea what to do with all this newfound information, so I opted for routine. I had a shower, changed into a cute sundress and put on my favourite red kitten heels. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, so I plastered a smile on my face and went downstairs – only to endure a forty-five-minute lecture from Mom.
After the tenth time she said, ‘I just want what’s best for you,’ I zoned out, studying the walnut grain of the dining table. Her heart wasn’t in it anyway. And when she huffed and pushed a sandwich in front of me, saying, ‘You look like you’re fading away,’ I knew the lecture was over.
The smart thing would’ve been to go back to bed. I needed more sleep. I’d lost count of how many hours I’d been awake – in both lives – before finally passing out in the early hours of the morning. But with my swirling thoughts sleep wasn’t really an option. And besides, there was something even more pressing that I absolutely had to do.
‘Cut it. Not too much, and shape it around the sides, leaving the length at the back. Colour needs to be much lighter, but with tones. Make sure you
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