I scowled, watching Dean’s every move as he slid the jewelry into place. Beverly winced again, and something in me snapped. My fists clenched at my sides, the irrational urge to just stop the whole thing clawing at me, but before I could say anything else, he was already done. The butterfly charm dangled just above her belly button, catching the light.

“There,” Dean said, tossing his gloves. “All done.”

Beverly let out a slow breath, blinking like she had just come out of a trance. She stood, checking herself out in the mirror.

A slow grin spread across her face. “Well?” she asked.

I couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. “It does look good… But remember, no twisting or bending or⁠—”

“Blake, stop. I got it.”

I reached into Beverly’s bag where I’d tucked Mom’s Polaroid camera earlier and quickly pulled it out. I snapped a picture, capturing her in the mirror with her new piercing, looking so proud.

She turned, raising an eyebrow as the photo printed out.

“What?” I shrugged. “Wanted to capture the moment.”

“Alright, you’re good to go.” Dean handed her a pamphlet with aftercare instructions. “Head up front to pay.”

Beverly nodded, wincing slightly as she adjusted her shirt.

When we got to the front, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a few crumpled bills.

I frowned. “What money is that?”

“Birthday money.”

I snatched the cash from her hand before she could protest, shoving it back into her wallet. “I’m paying.”

“Blake—”

“This one’s on me.”

Beverly scowled, crossing her arms. “I wanted to pay for it.”

“And I wanted to stay in bed this morning.” I pulled out my wallet and handed the girl my own cash.

She grumbled something under her breath but let me pay. As I opened the door, the sunlight hit her face, and she turned to me, smiling despite herself.

“I do love it, though,” she said. “It looks so good.”

“I give it two days before you regret it.”

She kicked me in the shin on the way out.

* * *

“So, what are you looking for?” I asked, already mentally calculating how many stores we’d hit before she was satisfied.

I was still vaguely concerned about the piercing—her stomach, the bacteria, the fact that she didn’t seem as immune to pain as she let on—but I’d pushed it all down for now.

It’s not like she’d listen to me anyway.

“Oh, you’ll see.” Beverly grinned, heading straight for a section of clothes that made me raise my eyebrows. She started pulling at pink tops—tight ones, flowy ones, ones with neon streaks down the sides—before tossing them to the side as she searched for something else. The pinker the better, it seemed.

She turned back to me, holding up a hot pink tube top with a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you think? Too much?”