“I added pieces the same way I’d constructed my body, from the inside out: boy-cut panties first (lacy), bra (sheer), stockings (thigh high), knee-length leather skirt (black), lime green midriff-baring shirt (polyester). David leaned against the wall and watched this striptease-in-reverse with fabulously expressive eyebrows slowly climbing toward heaven, I finished it off with a pair of strappy lime green three-inch heels, something from the Manolo Blahnik spring collection that I’d seen two months ago in Vogue.He looked me over, blinked behind the glasses, and asked, “You’re done?”I took offense, “Yeah. You with the fashion police?”“I don’t think I’d pass the entrance exam.” The eyebrows didn’t come down. “I never knew you were so…”“Fashionable?”“Not really the word I was thinking.”I struck a pose and looked at him from under my supernaturally lustrous eyelashes. “Come on, you know it’s sexy.”“And that’s sort of my point.”

“And I want the heart. I do. I don’t care if it’s black with despair and riddled with rot. I’d live inside the bits of him that are barely functioning, if I could. I’d spend the rest of my days trying to piece him back together, if he’d let me.”

“Shane, in case we don’t … don’t come out of this, I wanted to say…”He glanced over at her, and she felt her whole body warm from it. She remembered that look. It made her feel naked inside and out, but not in a creepy kind of way. In a way that felt…. Free. “If what you say is true, and I guess it has to be, I think I know why we’re … together,” he said. “I think I’d fall for you no matter what, Claire. You’re kind of awesome.”

“Chloe scoffed. "Excuse me, but if this place reeks of body odor, it’s not because of me. I am not the one with the shirt soaked in sweat here." She glanced at me.My cheeks burned. It was one of those moments where you wished the earth could rip open and swallow you whole."Oh, that’s why I can see your bra," Vincent pointed out, looking at my chest. "Nice boobs by the way."I looked down and almost had a heart attack. In the haste, I’d put a white top over a black bra.”

“If you were to ask me what’s under my bed, I’d tell you shoes. They’re brown, and they’re still attached to the body that’s been decomposing there since I hid it three days ago.”

“Wait,” he said, pulling me to a stop when I tried to march off toward my destiny. “Is there something you want to tell me?” I looked at him, trying to think of anything I’d done recently that I needed to admit to. When nothing came to mind other than the usual, I shook my head. “Not really. Why?” He reached out and touched my leather jacket. “Is that a bullet hole?” Freaking great.”