I was finally the next person in line. No one had tried to talk to me the whole time I’d been standing here. A small part of me was put out by this. The old me would have chatted to people in line. Actually, the old me would have never ventured to the bathroom alone. Paisley and I would have gone into the bathroom arm in arm and taken turns fixing our hair while the other one peed.
The door opened and a skinny boy wearing a starched fishing shirt and holding a red plastic cup exited. I slipped in and closed the door shut behind me. Someone had left the hand towel off its hook and a bottle of shower gel had been knocked off the edge of the tub, but other than that, the bathroom looked relatively clean for mid-party.
I turned and pushed the button on the lock. It didn’t stick. I tried again, only to find that the door didn’t lock at all. Great. I blew hair from my eyes. Well, at least there was a line. People had seen me walk in, so I should have a modicum of privacy.
Moving away from the door, I decided to kill time by snooping through the owners’ belongings. I still had no idea whose home we were destroying. I slid open the first row of drawers beneath the countertop. Blue goo oozed from a toothpaste bottle onto a dirty hand mirror. This bathroom must belong to a boy.
I found an electric razor resting in the second drawer and eyed it with interest. I turned it over, testing the weight in my palm. I’d never used one before. I eyed my long brown hair. The old me would never have left the house without styling it into loose curls to frame my face. Now, it was plastered on either side of my head. I leaned toward the mirror and swept a handful of hair away from my ear to see where I’d begin shaving. If I did begin shaving, that was. Which I wouldn’t because that was crazy. Wasn’t it?
My fingers felt twitchy, trigger-happy.
I hadn’t been completely honest. Yes, there was the old me, the one with the wavy curls and miniskirts, the toned abs and the long list of doting boys. But then there was the old-old me. That version was a chubby girl who was good at math. That version had been invisible. Nobody even knew her name.
I switched on the electric razor and felt it vibrate in my hand.
When my family moved from Phoenix, I’d done some quick mental math and concluded that life in a small Texas town like Hollow Pines would be a whole lot easier as the girl with abs and miniskirts. But now, I wasn’t so sure. My calculations may have been off.
My heart pounded as I brought the razor closer to my scalp. I could go back to that girl. If that was what I wanted, all it would take was a few swipes of the razor and then Cassidy Hyde, Homecoming queen, would be gone. I licked my lips, my mind buzzing with concentration, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a gleam of silver in the open drawer.
I lowered the razor and took out a pair of scissors. These were better. Baby steps, I told myself. I pulled one of the front pieces of hair out in front of my nose, opened the blades, and held them at eye level.
My hands shook when suddenly the door burst open. Startled, I snapped the handles together and heard the short snip of the blades.
“Someone’s in here,” I yelled. A lock of my hair drifted down like a feather to lay lifeless on the countertop. My throat squeezed tight. I hadn’t meant to speak.
Anger roiled inside me as I whirled to see Liam Buckley pressing his back to the door.
His lips spread into a crooked grin. “Hey, Cass.”
“Hey, yourself,” I said. There was no holding back the words now that Liam and I were sharing a twenty-five square foot space. “You weren’t even next in line.”
He lifted his eyebrows. Liam dwarfed me at well over six feet tall. He had eyes as green as emeralds, tan skin, and brown hair streaked with natural shades of golden blond so beautiful you’d swear he paid for them at the salon. “Sorry, had to piss like a racehorse,” he said, pushing up the cuffs of his sleeves. His rumpled shirt was half untucked, giving him the casually privileged air of a prep school kid. “You mind?”
Before I could answer, he crossed the room, unfastening his belt as he did so.
My mouth fell open and my cheeks went blisteringly hot. Just before I heard the sound of his urine hitting the toilet bowl, I managed to spin back around and aim my eyes anywhere but the mirror.
“What is wrong with you?” I said.
His steady stream didn’t falter. “Bunch of freshmen and sophomores in the line so I jumped it.” Liam was a year older than me, a senior starter on the Hollow Pines basketball team. “Plus I needed someplace private.”
This entire scenario was officially mortifying. The only problem was that the person for whom it should be mortifying was him.
I listened to the zip of his fly and then the toilet flushed. I glanced up into the mirror. At least he’d remembered to put the seat down. Liam was grinning at me as he approached the sink. I instinctively scooted over to make room. Last year I would have died from joy to be stuck in a room with Liam Buckley.
He turned the faucet and stuck his hands underneath the running water. So, not a total barbarian.