Tryst Read Free

withdraw her from school so she could pursue her modeling full-time. She had been pretty successful small-time, and some big fish had even started scoping her out as she was about to sign a major modeling contract.
    The night of my interview was the night she decided to go out to commemorate her success. I was supposed to meet up with her and Electra but the interview ran late and I never made it. That voicemail is the last memory I have of her. The last time I heard my sister's voice was when she was begging me to help her, begging for anyone to help her. Those who knew Cora and me would find it hard to believe she and I had grown close.
    Once we turned seventeen something just kind of snapped in place. She realized we would both be going off on our own and she wouldn’t really have me anymore. Cora had also come to notice more and more of our mother’s hostility, even sticking up for me a few times. That was the start of mending our broken relationship. I remember those times and I miss her something fierce.
    As my mind crosses back to the present, I'm hit with a rather unpleasant reality. I truly am back in a place I swore I'd never return, mentally and physically. As I make my way through the snow-covered road, trying to see through the freezing rain pelting my windshield, I drive past my childhood home. I can’t help the pain building in my chest at the memories of a devastated childhood. I shudder at the thought of what would happen if my mother knew I was in town.
    Having spent the last six years doing my best not to be found, I speed up and continue to drive to the hotel. After dashing through the slush, and mucking up my shoes and pants, I get inside.
    I approach the counter, pretty sure it was built with giants in mind. Seriously, I realize at 5'2” I'm rather tiny, but holy hell, I can barely see over the desk. I give the girl my name for my reservation and start looking through my purse for my wallet. As I am rummaging through my endless waste-bin of a purse, some guy, clearly not paying attention to where he was going, damn near plows me over.
    I step back slightly to push him off my backside, turning to a huff and a gaggle of giggles. Giggling, really? I wait for him to acknowledge the woman he nearly trampled, but it seems he is busy texting and admiring one of the women pawing at his arms. I use the term woman loosely, since she could be eighteen, but more than likely she is in her mid-teens playing dress up with her mom’s makeup, and he’s too dumb to realize. Feeling my anger intensify, I open my mouth and let my poison tongue get the best of me.
    “You know, if you weren't so busy checking if your life-sized Barbie has hit puberty and if her tits are plastic or not, you might have noticed it wasn't a damn wall you just tried to dry hump."
    I swear, the shit eating grin that came across his face is something just begging to be smacked off. With what, I had yet to decide. My fist? My purse? Or maybe a good old fashioned cast iron frying pan like grandma used to use. Yeah, definitely something that would leave a mark. Hell, if I wore high heels I might even be tempted to bitch-slap him with one of them.
    Of course, while I'm standing here imagining the demise of his Colgate smile, he's actually opening his mouth and starting to speak. Clearly annoyed I'm not listening, he clears his throat for effect and starts again, eager to earn my attention. 
    Seeing that he has, his voice half-catches in a laugh, "I can assure you, you’re anything but a wall. Maybe a speed bump, or a hurdle, but definitely not a wall."
    I stand with my arms crossed waiting for some form of an apology for the near trampling, instead I get some back-handed compliment.
    “You are rather tiny, or maybe I should call you fun-sized. I could definitely see myself having some fun with you. I mean you’re pretty hot in a naughty librarian kind of way. You know, the kind with the nerdy glasses and hair in a bun, but once you take them