Chapter 13

PRESENT DAY

My best friend is full of some godawful advice. This is for sure the last time I’m listening to her. Though I might’ve told myself that about the last serving of advice she dished up.

“My skin looks green,” I say to my sickly reflection. I look like I’ve been dropped in a vat of acid while wearing a bright yellow prom dress. Liz pokes her head over my shoulder, her blond hair and pale skin looking way better next to the yellow dress she said was the “perfect thing for tonight!” Yellow is happy, confident, perky, and sweet.

Since when did cowardly yellow mean confident? I should’ve backed out right there.

My nose wrinkles and I stare at Liz’s reflection with utter distaste and hopelessness.

“It’s not so much green as it is…” She tilts her head, like she’s not sure what color to describe the shade my skin has taken on. When she doesn’t come up with a suitable adjective, she bunches my newly cut hair and pushes it on top of my head. “Maybe if you do it up?”

“I’d have a better chance if I was naked.”

“Well, I suggested that first.” She grins and walks back to my messhole of a closet, while I frown at myself in the mirror. Actually, being naked didn’t work either. I thought that signal was about as subtle as a billboard, but apparently it was not a big enough sign to tell him that I’m ready.

I’m so ready.

“I’ll just wear the blue one,” I say, reaching around to tug at the zipper of the sea monster’s prom dress.

“He’s seen you in that,” Liz calls from the closet.

“He likes it too.” I remember those knee-weakening green eyes widening and that chiseled jaw dropping when I wore it last. (It was at Liz and Landon’s going-away party. That was a sad night that turned into a helluva great time with him by my side.) He was practically salivating, though I’m not really one to talk. The dress most likely has sweat stains all over it from the heat I projected whenever he touched me. Or whenever I “accidentally” touched him.

A hand juts out from the closet door, holding my candy-cane-striped bikini.

“I can’t wear that,” I laugh.

“Why is this in the front?” she asks, poking her head out to give me the evil eye. “It is February. Sweaters, jackets, scarves…those things go in the front of the closet during this month.”

I pull the bikini from her hand and chuck it back in the closet. It lands on a heap of rejected clothing from an entire week of getting dressed.

“If you want to organize my closet, be my guest. But do it after I’ve found the right thing to wear.”

She sighs at my hopeless wardrobe. “There’s no point. It’ll be back to this in a week anyway.”

“Then you’ll have to schedule more visits.” I give her a cutesy funny face, which she only semi-smiles at. We’re both still trying to adjust to her living across the freaking country when we’ve spent the first twenty-some-odd years a few steps away from each other. She plays with the lace hem of a blue cami hanging in front of her, not so subtly sniffing away the girly emotions that seem to creep into every conversation we have lately.

“Do you have anything purple?” she asks, letting the cami float back into its place in the closet.

“He’s seen me in all my purple clothes too.” I cross my arms and gaze at every piece of clothing I own. “He’s seen me in practically everything.” And in nothing too.

“We’ll just hit the store before the auction.” She nudges me in my shoulder. “And we’ll return the dress, since you hate it.”

“I’m green, Liz.”

She sighs. “Take it off. We’ve only got two hours, and that’s barely enough prep time.”

I strip out of the dress, and my skin goes back to its normal shade of Cover Girl Golden Beige. I vow to never wear yellow again and to make sure that Liz tries on many sea-monster-colored bridesmaid dresses at my wedding.

Wedding.

I just contemplated impending nuptials, which may not seem significant for a woman in her mid-twenties seeing all of her friends pair off to start families, but believe me, it’s definitely noteworthy.

Yes. I am so ready now.

“What is that?” Liz asks, pointing directly at my ass, her mouth hanging open.

“Nice, huh? Gym four times this week,” I tease, and attempt to shake my booty, but I end up knocking over half the body spray bottles on my dresser.

“No, no.” She gapes. “The tattoo.”

I snort and twist so that I can show her the whole thing. I tuck my thumb into the waistband of my brand-new Fruit of the Looms and pull it down just a tad.

“Got it the other day. Cute, right?”

A knock comes at the door before she can respond, and a long muffled whine from the other side tells me it’s Shay. Liz hurries to answer while I toss on a tank top and my gym shorts. I’m not exactly shy about my body around Liz, but I’ve only known Shay for a little while.

“I’m going to kill your landlord,” Shay says, waddling into the living room. It’s not really cold outside, especially for this time of year, but still…it’s not warm enough for what she’s wearing. The spaghetti straps on her maternity dress slide a little off her shoulders as she tosses her purse on my floor. She looks like she’s been sitting in a furnace all day.

She plops down on my unusually free-of-laundry sofa, her knees a foot apart from each other. “When are they gonna get that damn elevator working?”

“They said this weekend, but who knows.” I skip around to the fridge to grab her a water. She looks at me as if I’m handing her a million dollars, and when she takes her first gulp (and second and third and fourth…damn, she just puts half of it away within five seconds) tears start falling from her eyes.

Liz gives her a concerned look, dropping down to the couch next to her. Shay just shakes her head and says, “I don’t know why. I just cry all the time for no reason. Probably making up for all the days I forced myself not to cry. Or maybe it’s because none of my cute heels fit or because it’s eighty thousand degrees in midwinter. Or maybe because I sneeze-peed in the hallway.”

Shay swipes at her tears while Liz presses her lips together (she does a much better job at covering her laugh than I do) and gives Shay a side hug. I catch her eyes drifting to Shay’s round stomach and I know that she’s stoked for Shay and Jace having a baby together, but she’s also envious of it. Liz and Landon have been trying to get those eggs fertilized for a while now, and, well, patience isn’t the greatest strength of either of them. I hope he knocks her up soon.

“Hey, do you want to come with us?” Liz asks. “We need to make Theresa’s ass look as good as mine.”

I chuck an unpaid bill from the counter at her.

“Not really…,” Shay answers, moving her eyes up to meet mine. Her bottom lip juts out the teensiest bit; I don’t even think she’s aware she’s silently begging. But I know her well enough to know what she’s asking for. Shay’s been bouncing around in an RV for the last six months, and she’s ready for a steady bed and a Netflix binge.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Just don’t sneeze-pee on my sheets.”

She makes a tiny squeal, like a parrot mating with a rat, and sticks her arms out so we can hoist her off my couch. For such a tiny person, it sure takes a lot of effort to get her out of there.

Once we set her up for the night, remote in hand, eyes already fluttering closed, and pillows under her knees, Liz tosses my coat at me and we head out to get a dress that doesn’t make me change color. Time for the night that will change my life.