My Pretty Dirty Kitten
Instead, he moves to help Roxanne, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since the blowup, pushing her bike out of the garage toward the tracks.
“I’m sorry,” Roxanne whispers as she passes me.
I grab her wrist gently before she can disappear. “For what?”
She leans in, her voice barely audible over the engines. “My sister’s behavior. She’s just… obsessed with Dmitry.”
Oh.
An obsession he clearly fuels.
I force a smile, one that feels stiff and unnatural on my face. “That’s it? Please. It’s not a big deal.”
Roxanne doesn’t buy it.
She studies me for a moment, eyes nearly burning my skin off but it's still kind, like she’s reading my very soul, I know they say blue eyes read the soul but grey e