Chapter Four

"Women are difficult. Their lipstick is their armor, just like their shoes are weapons, and their clothes are their shield."—August Wellington

Hazel

I smiled myself to sleep that night after partying way too long and gifting August pink glitter. In fact, it might have been the best sleep I'd had my entire life.

I stretched my arms over my head and checked my phone.

Only six a.m.?

I still had at least two hours to sleep this off, relax, and just—

The sound of a lawnmower had me jolting up so hard my skull pounded, the pain radiating from the back of my neck to my temples.

"Why?" I croaked, my mouth so dry it hurt to swallow. "Why would someone mow the lawn this early?"

The sound suddenly stopped. Huh, must have been in my head. I curled down around my fluffy, white pillow and started to fall asleep again when the sound of a saw filled the air.

I almost tumbled out of the bed. "The hell?"

Next door, August was sawing down a small tree with the lawnmower still present on the lawn as if he'd thought mid-mow, "Hey, you know what's a good idea? Tree chopping."

When he was done with that, he pulled off his black T-shirt and tossed it to the ground. I gaped like the peeping Tom I was and ducked beneath the window ledge, slightly lifting my blackout curtain with my right hand to peek out.

I gasped when he grabbed a bottle of water, poured it over his head, and shook his hair, only to run his hands through the locks and then wipe those same hands down his body.

"Who drinks water like that?" I licked my lips and leaned closer when he suddenly looked over at our house—specifically, my window.

Panicked, I jerked back and dropped the curtain. He didn't see me. I knew he didn't see me.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a few minutes and then slowly crawled back under the covers, only to hear the doorbell ring.

Was everyone awake?

I jolted out of bed and ran down the hall, ready to give whoever it was a piece of my mind, when I saw a small, pink box on the doorstep with my name on it.

It even had a cute white bow with pink and black stripes.

I picked it up, then checked out the scribble on a small piece of white paper.

Not the only thing I had in store for you this morning. Did you like the show? Only the best for the princess.

I immediately scowled, but I was too damn curious not to take the box and its offensive note inside. I quickly tucked the package under my arm, slammed the door behind me, sprinted back up to my room, and leaned against the wall.

What was he up to?

Was the pink glitter too much?

My laugh of disbelief could probably be heard next door. I tossed the box onto my bed and crossed my arms, then heard the lawnmower start again.

I wanted to shout, "Go to hell!" out my window. Instead, I looked at the gift again. What? What could it possibly be?

And why?

Would this be a jump scare?

And why did my stomach do a few flip-flops when I thought about the possibility that it actually was a present? I hated him. Loathed him. He was my enemy, not my friend.

I quickly dropped to my knees and drummed my fingertips on the top of the pretty box, then finally convinced myself that it was a stellar idea to untie the pink bow and pull it open. "Here goes nothing."

Weirdly, my hands were shaking, and my pink nail polish stood out as my fingers undid the bow and pulled it loose so I could open the box and look inside.

It was pretty.

And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. Because it was something that my great-grandma would have given me. She'd always called me her little princess, and when I was young, I'd twirl wearing the pink plastic crowns she'd buy at Target, and hold the scepter I believed would control those around me. My parents were good sports, my dad especially. I'd tell him to fall out of the tree house and pretend to be a dog, and he'd actually bark, making me laugh so hard I'd run and get tackled.

I truly had the best upbringing.

My throat swelled as I touched the crown with my fingertips. It was something you'd get from Amazon or another retailer: plastic with fake, silver-framed bright blue diamonds.

With shaking hands, I reached for the note tucked inside.

Spoiled princesses always get crowns, even if they're fake. Should you put yours on? BTW, thanks so much for the glitter, I'll use it wisely.

I tossed the card like it was cursed.

"Take a few breaths," I said out loud. "Just a few deep breaths." It was like I was my own therapist. How dare he take something so personal and turn it into something I should be offended by, all for having an amazing great-grandma and family?

I'd just graduated and celebrated her life, and he sent me this?

I looked over my shoulder at the wall behind me.

It was filled with pictures of me and Great-Grandma Nadine. I was young, but my parents always took pictures when I snuck into her room and opened her makeup drawer. Her lipstick always smelled like vanilla, and she had the tips of the tubes looking funny because of the way she put it on.

It was upside down.

Most people put on lipstick the normal way, where you went in and pressed the tip against your upper lip, facing the lower part downward. She did it the opposite way, and her reasoning made no sense. Weirdly enough, the tip of that lipstick never fell off; it just existed in this weird mold of a thin tower pointing at the bottom of her lip.

"Honey," she'd said one day after sharing some of her Estee Lauder with me while I watched her do her makeup in her powder room as she sat on her light blue stool, looking in her small mirror. "One day, you'll understand that it doesn't matter how you put on lipstick or eyeshadow or if you wear any makeup at all. You do it for you first, always first." She smiled at herself as she rubbed her lips together. "And second? Oh, honey, you do it for your partner. For that person in your life. You want to know why I put on lipstick this way?"

I nodded, in complete awe of her strawberry-red lips and perfect pink blush. Even the blond curls on her head didn't move as she brushed through them.

"You put on lipstick the way you want to live life, against others, upside down, in chaos. You live life because it's meant to be lived and experienced. You don't go with the norm—there's no fun in that. You wear your heels proudly, your sneakers with honor, and you put on lipstick however the heck you please.

"At the end of the day, you become a person who goes against the grain, someone who can flip her lipstick upside down, put it on, and smile. Life is short. Chaos is welcome because it brings in so many factors. And, honey, my only goal for you is to know that no matter what path it takes you on—you can pave your own way and do it with authority. My lipstick proves that time and time again."

She smiled down at the lipstick with its thin, upside-down tip. "Do you know I've never had a lipstick wear out or break by putting it on this way?" She showed me the small black container, her pink nails shining against it. "I think it's the universe telling me that maybe all of us can do things our own way. It's just sometimes so much easier to follow the crowd. Be your own crowd." She looked down at me and pinched my cheek. "Wear lipstick however you want. Now, put it on."

I grabbed the lipstick and, with shaking hands, twisted it across my lips. Then I turned it upside down just like she did and smacked my lips together because, if anyone had it right...

It was Great-Grandma Nadine.

I dropped the crown to the floor and stood. "How dare you?"

He wasn't there to hear me, but I heard the lawnmower so, with my pajamas still on—little pink Hello Kitty shorts and a mismatched green shirt—I ran outside, my fluffy orange Garfield slippers in place. Maybe later I'd realize that the Garfield on my left foot was missing an eye, and the one on the right had no tail, but whatever.

I marched next door, sleep mask pulled up and all—that one was slightly more embarrassing since it said: I dream of tacos, but I had no time to think.

August didn't even notice me, so the only thing I could think to do was throw a Garfield slipper at his face and say, "Sorry." And to be clear, I felt bad for one-eyed Garfield, not August.

Never. August.

The slipper hit him in the back of the head. He slowly stopped mowing and turned. Why the hell was he so good-looking, even while sweaty? It was like he'd just oiled himself up and was like, "Oh, might go to a body-building competition but can't decide if I did enough on leg day or carb loaded yet."

His golden abs seriously had the worst timing as the sun rose and decided to bless him like baby Jesus or Simba from The Lion King, just shining down across all freaking fifteen of them. Okay, there weren't fifteen, but again, I didn't care. It was glorious, and I hated him even more for the crown in that moment. It was sinister, like he knew.

"You." I pointed with my finger.

He held up his hands. "Is lawn care illegal?"

No, but abs like that should be, you asshole.

"NO!" I roared, then reached for the other slipper and held it high. "I'll use it, don't make me use it, August."

He raised his toned, muscular, god-like golden right arm and ran his fingertips through his thick, sweaty hair, pulling it away from his green eyes. "Are you threatening me with Garfield?"

"If I must, Odie."

He dropped his arm and burst out laughing. His dimples were on full display. "I'm the dumb dog, but aren't you the one obsessed with carbs? Should I bring a lasagna next time?"

I loved lasagna. How dare he? "NO!" I roared. My parents were half-Italian, but again, not the point. "Just apologize, and this weird war can end. I'm only here for a few months before I start work anyway."

"Ah, work. Do you know the meaning, or is it just like this thing you think about at night when you get spoon-fed meals by a chef and count the money in your bank account?"

If there were any witnesses, they'd probably say that I growled at his response instead of in my head, but I took a deep breath and said, "Fine. Fine. Say what you will, but this is over. That was a low blow. And you saw my crowns before. You knew it was a thing."

He suddenly frowned. "What? What thing?"

"Great-Grandma!" I spat.

He kept that stupid look of confusion on his face, which left me no choice but to grab the hose next to his foot and aim it at him. "Don't make me."

"Wet?" He shook his head. "Look, it was a total joke because you're a little princess. I thought you'd laugh, not attack me with water and a Garfield slipper. Come on, you gave me glitter. Tit for tat. We should be even."

I never understood the concept of seething, but I felt it. I felt it in that moment as my fingers clutched the nozzle of the hose. "Apologize."

"Did we just go from Garfield to Venom? I'm confused."

"Huh?"

"Apologize," he yelled, spreading his buff arms wide as he stood by the lawnmower. The cut grass smelled so fresh that morning that I hated him even more because I automatically felt better about life. "Apologize. You know, how like in the Venom movie, he keeps yelling because Eddie keeps offending him and…" He stopped talking. "Not a fan of movies, or?"

"Aghhhh." I dropped the slipper to the ground and shoved it on. "Give me my other Garfield and I'll leave. But know this isn't over. You know what you did."

He smirked, the corner of his mouth tilting up to the right as he leaned down and grabbed the cartoon cat. Then, as if in slow motion, he walked over to me and knelt. "Up."

"Huh?"

"Your foot. I mean, it's technically a slipper…" He held out one-eyed Garfield like it was a prize. "Right?"

I lifted my foot. He slowly slipped the fluffy thing on and stood.

"I'm still angry."

He tilted his head, then with shaking fingers, reached for my chin and held it between his fingertips. For whatever reason, I didn't pull away. "Sometimes, we need to be angry first in order to be happy. So, let yourself be angry. I was just kidding, but if it got this reaction out of you where I get to see a face mask, Garfield, and whatever the hell you're wearing, I might just do it more."

"Don't."

"Will." He nodded. "Now, go back and shower. You have mascara streaks down your face. God, did you even wash up before bed last night? Also, mirrors, they exist, use them."

He was teasing, I knew it, but I was too hurt and raw to see it. "I loathe you. Just wait."

"Aw, princess. With bated breath."

He turned and started the lawnmower while I stood there like an idiot. As I stomped back to the house looking like a nightmare, a small smile formed on my lips.

He wanted to play?

Well, games could be hazardous, and I would not be outdone by lawnmower boy.

Let's. Go.