Gabbie Carter, Lena Paul | Must Read

The Aster was a dying thing. Its marquee, once a blazing jewel of neon pink, now flickered like a weak heart. For ten years, Gabbie Carter had danced on its sticky stage, her platinum ponytail a comet trail under the dim lights. And for ten years, Lena Paul had counted the money in the back office, her sharp green eyes missing nothing.

"Like a beginning," Lena whispered. And then she kissed her. gabbie carter, lena paul

Gabbie looked around The Aster—the broken mirrors, the faded velvet, the ghosts of a thousand lonely nights. "I won't miss it," she said. The Aster was a dying thing

Lena turned her head. In the weak light, her eyes held a quiet fire. "That's the first stupid thing you've ever said." She reached out, her calloused fingers—from years of counting coins and breaking up fights—brushing a strand of hair from Gabbie’s cheek. "We could be something new. Something we chose, not something the club made us." And for ten years, Lena Paul had counted

"So are you," Gabbie replied, not looking up. She traced a crack in the floor with her toe. "What are you going to do now? Count the cockroaches?"

Gabbie’s breath hitched. "Like what?"