Lily’s smile faded. Tristan was the best friend she could ever imagine. He’d been there for her through things that would have sent most people running for the hills. But he didn’t treat his girlfriends nearly as well. Lily had seen it firsthand with Miranda, and she wished she hadn’t.
“He’s different with me,” Lily said. She stood up and wiped the rest of the oil from her hands. “It’ll be different with me,” she repeated emphatically.
Juliet’s big eyes grew even bigger with concern. “Okay,” she said. “But maybe it’d be a good idea to change out of that dress. Make him wait for it.”
“Wait?” Lily said, grinning at her sister. “I’m the one who’s been waiting. Not him.”
“Exactly. And after this long, what’s your rush?” Juliet joked. They both heard Tristan pull into the driveway. “Last chance to run upstairs and change into jeans and a T-shirt?”
“Not going to happen, Jules,” Lily replied cheerfully as she went to let Tristan inside. She pulled the door open and smiled at him, her stomach filling with butterflies even though she saw him every day.
“What did you do to your hair?” Tristan immediately asked, a scowl forming on his face.
Lily’s hand darted up automatically to smooth her already smooth hair, her excitement disappearing. “Juliet did it for me.”
“Hey, Tristan,” Juliet called out.
“What’s up, Jules?” he called back in greeting.
“You don’t like it?” Lily asked him, feeling defensive. This wasn’t how she’d imagined this moment at all. After she’d spent hours sweating it out under a hair dryer, he was supposed to be staring at her slack-jawed.
“It’s okay.” Tristan shrugged in a noncommittal way, his eyes scanning her. “What are you wearing?”
“A dress.”
“Kinda little, isn’t it?” He grimaced. “I can see, like, all of you.”
“Oh, the horror,” Lily deadpanned. She pushed him outside and called back to her sister. “’Night, Jules.”
“Have fun,” Juliet said, her face apologetic. Lily gave her sister a pained look before she closed the door and followed Tristan to his car. He didn’t start the engine immediately. He turned to Lily, starting to say something, but Lily cut him off.
“The next thing you say had better be a compliment,” she said incredulously. “Tristan. I’m wearing makeup. This may never happen again.”
Tristan shut his mouth and started the car. He pulled out of the driveway and was halfway down the street before he spoke. “Cute shoes.”
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
They drove the rest of the way to Scot’s in comfortable silence. Scot’s street was already lined with cars. He had the kind of parents who went out of town a lot and didn’t seem to mind that their son threw huge parties in their absence. They had to know about it—everyone in town knew about Scot’s parties—but since being the “party guy” made Scot incredibly popular, his parents turned a blind eye to the whole thing. All they asked for was plausible deniability in front of the other kids’ parents, and Scot was good about that. He always hid the valuables, covered the furniture, and cleaned up thoroughly before his parents got home.
“Vomit,” Tristan warned, yanking Lily out of way before she could step in a chunky, orange puddle in the grass.
“Good eye.”
“Lots of practice. Scot’s front yard is always touch and go.”
Lily slowed down and tried to take shallow breaths. A bunch of kids were smoking out front on the wraparound deck, and she could smell it halfway across the yard. Several of the smokers spotted Tristan and started calling out to him, peering through the gloom at the girl on his arm.
“Hey, man! You made it. Who’s that with you?” a kid everyone called Breakfast asked. Lily realized no one recognized her without the usual meringue of curly hair on top of her head.
“Hey, Breakfast. It’s me. Lily.”
“Lily?” Breakfast immediately put his cigarette behind his back—thoughtful, but like that would help. “Are you okay? I mean does this bother you?”