Armor and Eyeliner

Juniper slammed the bedroom door open with more **** than necessary.

Of course they were still in here.

The same two teenagers from before—some grungy skater boy, still shirtless, and a girl wearing glittery eyeshadow and no bra—startled like raccoons caught in the garbage. They froze, lips still locked, bodies tangled on the bed that Juniper spent her adolescence on.

Juniper dropped her duffel bag with a thud and didn't even pause.

"Out," she said, sharp as a gavel.

They blinked.

"I said out. Do you need me to explain what happens if you stay?"

The boy stammered something as they scurried out of the room—maybe "We didn't know—" but Juniper was already crossing the room, her thoughts of the amorous pair distant from conscious thought. Then, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by memories of her childhood, she made a plan of action.

The long drive was still clinging to her skin—sweat, old car smell, fast food salt—but she could take care of that later. Right then she understood her priorities. Her brother was throwing a party downstairs, a party that she had already made a terrible first impression at, and she needed to recover. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the evening up in her room when he was down there.

First, she took stock of how presentable she was. Shirt: wrinkled. Leggings: hole in the seam. Her bra didn't even match. She hadn't dressed to impress, she had dressed to travel. Comfort had been the name of the game. But now the game had changed.

Turning to the closet, heart hammering in her chest, Juniper Granger knew exactly how to play that game. She'd played it so many times before, but now the odds were against her. Downstairs were a throng of girls, all head-over-heels in love with Joey. Each one was gorgeous in their own way, each one had a significant head start on Juniper.

Because, as she had come to realize, just because she was Joey's sister, didn't make her immune to his charms.

That was an understatement.

As she pulled the closet door open, her chest aching with desire, every memory of her brother danced in front of her, every one being recontextualized. How had she not seen it before? She had never been as in love with anyone as she was with Joey. His skinny arms, his terrible humour, it was as if the gods had taken every secret key to her heart and poured it into Joey. From his short stature to his bad haircut, Joey was everything she wanted in a man.

His words still echoed in her skull, soft and inevitable:

“The girls here are head-over-heels for me.”

Juniper's breath caught.

She was. She was head-over-heels for him.

When had he gotten so observant, so wise?

He had said it so calmly. Like gravity. Like truth.

And when she'd looked at him—really looked—no longer did she see a boy. She saw a man. And her chest had fluttered. Her stomach had dipped. Her thighs had pressed together without her even realizing it.

She flipped through her clothes. T-shirts, hoodies—none of it would do.

She needed something more. She was playing catch-up. If she was going to catch Joey's eye, if she was going to outpace the girls downstairs, she would have to put on a show.

The realization made her palms sweat.

God, what would Mom and Dad say?

What would her friends say?

The worries didn't stick. They slid right off. Who cares? When you found true love, you do whatever it takes to make sure it lasts.

Besides, Juniper had never really cared what people thought. Not really. She had always done what she wanted—crushed tests, won races, dumped boys, broke rules. She had never waited for permission. Girls like her didn't have to.

Why start now?

Moving to her dresser, she pulled open the bottom drawer and found it: a barely-worn crop top in red satin, cut low in the front and high at the midriff. She held it up against herself and smirked.

Cleavage. Check.

She dug further. A micro-miniskirt—black leather, more belt than fabric.

Legs. Check.

Then, at the back of her closet: a pair of stiletto ankle boots. She hadn't worn them since that party with Kenzie freshman year where she made out with two frat boys and left them both begging.

Ass. Triple check.

Juniper stripped without ceremony. Her clothes fell in a heap. She didn't look in the mirror—she didn't have to. She knew she looked good. Her body had always been her best weapon. Tight waist, strong thighs, perfect skin, and that walk.

She slipped into the outfit like armor, about to go to war. The crop top hugged her breasts, the skirt clung to her hips, and the boots made her legs look ten miles long.

She adjusted her hair in the reflection—messy, sultry, wild. Then added a little smudge of eyeliner from the makeup bag at the back of the drawer.

Perfect.

But underneath the surface sheen of confidence, her mind was still racing.

How do I tell him?

Of course, he already knew. He was the one who had pointed it out to her, after all. But how did he feel about it? She had acted horribly when she had arrived, accusing him of the most outlandish and unbelievable thing possible. Joey? Pay for sex? Unthinkable.

She'd start with an apology. Maybe she could pull him aside somewhere quiet, away from the din, away from the girls. Maybe a closet somewhere, just like the times that she'd spent playing seven minutes in heaven with the boys from her grade back in high school. Maybe she could show him how to play...

But what if that scared him? Was she being too forward? Would she gross him out?

Self doubt was not Juniper's natural state. She was confident, driven, and most of all, a winner. She shoved thoughts of losing aside. Failure wasn't an option. Juniper knew what she brought to the table, and she would use everything she had to get what she wanted.

Because love, the kind she was feeling, didn't come along just every day.