Chapter 12

I lean against the flimsy sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I know I’m not the classical version of beautiful. But my skin is clear of blemishes, and my green eyes aren’t as rare as Rome’s honey-colored eyes, but they are still uncommon enough. I frown when I eye my hair. The vibrant fiery red draws all the attention from any decent features I have. That’s the problem, my hair. And my pale complexion is littered with freckles that try to consume my face.

My fingers curl over the side of the sink as I remember Falcon’s face when he watched Rome sit down. That jealous monster gnaws at me from the inside, unlike anything I have ever felt as the lights flicker in the bathroom. I have been envious before. Shit, I live to be envious, apparently. Watching the kids at the school getting to learn while I sat across the street. Or when their loving parents came to pick them up. I was envious of anyone who got love or attention when I lingered in the allies hoping for a spot of food