Imprisoned Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,20
later on… or maybe something stronger than words.
To my surprise, Peyton bought me green emerald earrings for my birthday, little sparkling baubles that are now hanging proudly from my ears, complimenting the dress splendidly. He told me I was an annoying little shite as he was giving me the box, but that kind of sentiment is actually pretty loving for our family. I walk to the mirror, admiring the low cut dress, which stops mid-thigh and has cut outs around my ribs on the side. In spite of its flirtatiousness, it looks damn good, the kind of thing that would be great for dinner at a nice restaurant… or a night out on the town. I walk to Mads and pull her in for a hug, which is a rather rare occurrence for me, all things considered. I’m not much of a hugger, nor am I good at dealing with emotions in general, now that I think about it. My best guess is that it’s a side effect of growing up in a houseful of brothers with no sister in sight. I learned early on how to play my cards close to my chest, and even though Mads was like my school sister, even coming back to the house after school sometimes, I grew a prickly shell as a defense mechanism.
Mads just laughs at the sudden display of affection, embracing me back and giving me a squeeze. “I take this to mean you like it?” she asks.
"Thank you,” I say. “How are you so damn good at knowing what looks good on other people?”
“Because I’m damn fashionable,” Mads replies. "Of course I know what looks good; I work in a department store.” She rolls her eyes at me like that should be obvious. I suppose it kind of is.
"Come on, let's go,” I say, turning back to the mirror and giving my long red curls a fluff. “I need a long drink.”
Mads raises her eyebrows. “Is that so? What’s the occasion - aside from, you know, it being your birthday?”
“I have to tell you about what Damien got me for my birthday," I say, shuddering. I'm certain he did it because he is pissed his girlfriend couldn't handle the truth about what he is. Turns out, my parents’ reassurances didn’t do much for her in the end, and the idea that magic is real sent her into a bit of a panic. Michael the goat just toppled her right over the edge, I think. Oddly enough, he only seems to behave himself around Mads, and doesn’t say damn near a word when she’s in the house. Or, at least, she’s never told me he’s said anything, and the only time she’s ever run out of the house screaming was when Hugo and I went through our bug collecting phase. The bugs ended up getting out and dispersing throughout the house, which, as I’ve told you before, is bigger on the inside than on the outside. It was crawling with all sorts of insects and arachnids for days, and I swear mum was inches away from burning the house down and starting over again.
Where was I going with this? Oh, right - Mads and Michael. I’m not sure what it is about her that makes him act so civil and… goatlike when she’s around, although I suspect he might have a bit of a crush. Either way, his antics last night resulted in Mum having to erase Daisy’s memory, and I’m sure Damien is still put off with me over the whole thing. Why he doesn’t take out his anger on Hugo, whose idea it was in the first place, I don’t know.
Mads grabs her black handbag, which matches her suede black heels and black velvet dress, and slings it over her shoulder. I grab my own, which is red and adorned with a big bow that ties the whole outfit together. I can’t help but feel a smidge of jealousy as I watch Mads smooth out the hem of her dress. Everything always looks marvellous on her; I've never seen her look terrible in anything, as long as I’ve known her. I guess she has a sort of magic of her own, now that I think about it.
Mads links her arm in mine as soon as we get outside her apartment block and starts walking us down the pavement. Although she grew up in my village, she moved to Dublin after high school so she could be closer to her