“Everything is so different,” I murmur, my voice slightly muffled through the hairpins that I’m holding between my lips. I’m looking at my mirror, concentrating on my hair, but my phone is perched up against the glass, angled toward me to allow Rachael to see my progress. “I seriously love it here. How’s this?” I turn my head to one side and show her the braid I’ve been working on, the one I’ve added to the updo without her guidance.
“Cute, but loosen it up a little,” Rachael says. I turn back around, dropping my eyes to my phone, looking at her. She’s laying in her bed, propped up against her pillows, a bagel in one hand and her phone held up in the other. For once, her hair is tangled up in a messy bun atop her head and she’s not wearing any makeup. I can hear her TV in the background. “So this party is in the apartment?”
“Yeah.” I start to finger the braid, loosening it up and making it seem a little messier. “What about you? Are you doing anything tonight?”
“Sounds awesome. I’m jealous.” Rachael takes a bite of her bagel and glances at her TV as she swallows. She sighs as she looks back at her phone. “Do you know Gregg Stone? He was in the grade above me, so you probably don’t, but anyway. He’s throwing a party at his place tonight. Tiffani and Dean are going, but I might just stay home. Got cramps.” She takes another bite of her bagel. Actually, she takes two.
“Dean’s going?” I ask, pausing what I’m doing, dropping my hands from my hair. “He never mentioned it.”
“Yeah,” she says, mouth full. “He wasn’t going to at first, but Tiffani convinced him that he won’t miss you so much if he’s drunk. So yeah. Now he’s going.”
“Why couldn’t she just stay in Santa Barbara for the summer?” I mutter under my breath, but Rachael hears me anyway, because she throws me a stern glance. Peacemaker. That’s Rachael. If there’s one thing she hates, it’s when her friends don’t get along, which is ironic, given that she still can’t bring herself to get along with Tyler. I raise my voice and say, “Seriously, why is she telling him to get drunk? Where did that logic come from?” Dean’s never been all that into drinking.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Rachael says quietly. She shrugs, lays the remainder of her bagel down on her bedside table, and sits up. “He’s been kinda down ever since you left. He needs to live a little.”
“Oh.” Swallowing hard, I reach for the hairspray and quickly spray some over my hair, setting the updo in place, but not without feeling guilty. Here I am, trying my best to look pretty for Tyler and not Dean. Dean, who’s on the other side of the country, being persuaded by my dear friend Tiffani to get wasted. I wish Dean didn’t miss me so much.
“What about you? How are you coping without him?”
My eyes drop back down to my phone. “What?”
“Dean,” she says. “Do you miss him?”
I think about this for a second. Do I? Do I really miss him? I’m not entirely sure. I like to believe that I do, that I think about him every second of each day, but the truth is, I don’t. I’m too preoccupied with being with Tyler again after such a long time that I don’t have much time to spend missing Dean. Yet Rachael is waiting, so I say, “I miss him more than anything,” and once the words leave my lips, I feel like the most awful person in the world. “But hey, thanks for your help,” I say, forcing a smile as I motion toward my hair. It’s finished now, and I like it. “It’s almost seven here. I should finish getting ready. Take care of Dean for me.”
“You can count on it,” Rachael says.
We say our goodbyes and shut off the video call, and I focus my attention back on getting ready for the party later, rather than on Dean. I can’t bring myself to think about him right now.
In the end it takes me around forty minutes to perfect my makeup and my hair, and once I have, I’m extremely satisfied. Satisfied enough to finally put my dress on.
It fits just the way I remember: tight but not clingy, sexy but modest. I like the way it seems to enhance my figure, and I end up staring at my reflection in the mirror for a short while. It’s the first time in months that I’ve gotten so dressed up. The last was back in March for Rachael’s birthday.
I’m still staring at myself in the mirror when I hear voices for the first time in the past hour, voices that don’t belong to Snake. Voices, in fact, that sound exactly like Tyler and Emily’s.
Instantly spinning around, I almost trip over my makeup bag as I make a dash across the room. My suitcase is still kicking around on the floor, containing nothing but shoes by now, and I flip it open and grab the only pair of heels I decided to pack. They’re black to match, and in fear of Tyler walking in any second, I slip them on as fast as I can and take a minute to balance myself.