andtheCountryMouse

Mandy slouched back in the plastic food court chair, her worn leather jacket creaking as she shifted. She kicked her combat boots up onto the sticky table, ignoring the glare from the janitor nearby. Her eyes—dark, calculating, hungry—swept across the Saturday afternoon crowd drifting past the Sbarro and the pretzel stand. She hated them. All of them. The pretty ones. The confident ones. The ones who walked through the mall like they owned every inch of polished tile, their flat stomachs exposed to the fluorescent lights, their belly buttons daring the world to look. "Check out Miss Perfect," Mandy said suddenly, her voice low and edged with something dangerous. [DEVIATION] She nodded toward a willowy brunette in a canary-yellow crop top and high-waisted denim shorts. The girl was browsing at Bath & Body Works, completely oblivious, her toned abdomen fully on display. It was the kind of stomach that looked firm but soft, begging for it. "I'd start soft," Tasha said, leaning forward