Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Cool.” I glance back at the high-rise I just exited, with its sparkling windows, glass lobby, and massive white-and-red HockeyNet logo. A sigh slips out. “I hope you’re ready to get lit tonight, because I need to drink the memory of this interview right out of my head.”
“I hate you so much. How do you always manage to look so good without even trying?” Tansy gripes later that evening.
We’re in her suite at Walsh Hall, one of the Boston College residences. Tansy shares it with three other girls, and bunks with a chick named Aisha, who’s away for the weekend visiting her parents in New York. Aisha is a girl after my own heart, because she transformed her desk into a vanity. I would’ve done the same thing to my desk at home, if I had one; I’ve always preferred doing homework while sprawled on my bed or couch.
I grin at Tansy’s reflection in Aisha’s huge mirror, then continue applying mascara to my upper lashes. “I’m putting on makeup,” I point out. “How is that not trying?”
She makes a grumbling noise in her throat. “You call that makeup? You put on a dab of concealer and a bit of mascara. That doesn’t count as trying.”
“And lipstick,” I remind her.
“And lipstick,” she concedes. She rolls her eyes at me. “You know colors other than red exist in this big, beautiful world, right?”
“Red’s my color.” I purse my lips at her, then smack them together in an air kiss. “My friend at Briar says it’s my trademark.”
“It totally is. I can’t remember the last time I saw you without it. Maybe Christmas morning?” She pauses. “No, wait, we both wore red lipstick that day. It matched our Santa hats. I looked awful, though. I remember that. I can’t pull off red lips.”
“We have the same complexion, Tans. You could absolutely pull it off.”
“No, I mean swag-wise. You need to possess a certain amount of swagger to rock the red.”
She’s not wrong. It’s a look that requires confidence. Ironically, it’s what gives me confidence. I know it sounds absurd, but I feel invincible every time I slather on some crimson lipstick.
“I can lend you some of my swagger if you want,” I offer.
Tansy’s nose scrunches up as she grins. The silver stud in her left nostril catches the light and seems to sparkle. “Aw thanks, Bee. I knew there was a reason you’re my favorite cousin.”
“Well, the others aren’t exactly prime candidates for that honor. Leigh and Robbie are too preachy about religion. And don’t get me started on Alex.”
We both grimace. Alex is our uncle Bill’s daughter and she’s incredibly annoying.
I hear the chirp of an incoming message. “Hey, can you check that?” I left my phone on Tansy’s desk, and she’s closer to it.
She reaches over from her bed. “Someone named GB says he misses you. He used about a hundred u’s and five, no, six, heart emojis. Oooh, and it’s the red heart. That means he’s serious. So. Who is GB and why haven’t you mentioned him?”
I sputter with laughter. “GB stands for Greenwich Barbie. That’s what I call my friend. Summer. She’s a hot rich girl from Connecticut.”
“Liar. I’ve never heard you mention a Summer,” Tansy accuses.
“She transferred to Briar at the beginning of January.” I stick the mascara wand back in the tube and twist it closed. “This chick is insane, like in a good way. She’s hilarious. Always up for a party. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“Are we seeing her this weekend?”
“No, unfortunately. She’s performing her girlfriendly duty and supporting Briar at the semifinals against Yale tomorrow night. Her boyfriend is on the team.”
“Why does she miss you?”
“We haven’t hung out since last weekend. And yes, I know a week is not a long time at all, but in Summer years that’s a decade. She’s melodramatic.”
My phone chirps again.
“See what I mean?” I chuckle, tucking my mascara and lipstick into the small makeup case I brought with me. “Pass me my phone, will ya? If I don’t text her back, she’s liable to have a panic attack.”
Tansy checks the screen. Her shoulders stiffen slightly. “It’s not Summer,” she informs me.
I knit my brows. “Okay. Who is it?”
There’s a long pause. Something shifts in the air, and suddenly a cloud of tension settles between us.
Tansy studies me, wary. “Why didn’t you tell me you were still in touch with Eric?”
5
Brenna
The tension seeps into my body, turning my shoulders to stone and my spine to iron. And yet my fingers feel like jelly, and I begin to tremble. Luckily, I’m finished putting on mascara; otherwise, I would’ve poked an eyeball out.
“Eric messaged?” I’m bothered by how weak my voice sounds. “What does it say?”
Tansy tosses me the phone. My gaze instantly lowers to the message. It’s brief.