She rolls her eyes. “He’s fine. He’ll adjust to the new room.” She waves at me, so I leave and saunter down to the bathroom. I wash my face and look into the mirror at my dark eyes, thick lashes, and perfect chestnut hair. I cock a delicately manicured eyebrow and scowl. Have I always looked like Barbie’s best friend?
I shake my head and sigh, forcing a silent vow to be more like myself and stop worrying about everything. I dry my face on my shirt and stroll back to the room, earning a weird glance from a girl I pass who notices the water stain on my shirt.
When I get in the room Angie is twirling with my clothes. “Can I borrow this purple scarf with the gray dress?” She wraps it around her throat, making my skin crawl. I nod, ignoring the terrible feeling inside of me, and honor my vow of being the cool chick I once was, a whole week ago.
“I have heels that match the purple scarf.” The words are choked out. I climb on my bed and lie back, realizing it’s more comfortable than the mattress I had in the other room with the ever-crabby Michelle. I would feel sorry for Leona but she doesn’t sound much better than Michelle.
Who doesn’t like bagpipes?
“Want to go get pissed?” It takes a second to realize she means get drunk.
I grin. “I do.” It is just the thing I need to relax and get used to the new life here on campus. Simon and I used to have epic parties when our parents would take their adult vacations.
“There’s a bar in town that serves minors. Ya just have to be a pretty lass and the dirty old bouncer will let you in. Once you’re in, they don’t ID.”
I grin wider, reaching into my Coach wristlet. “I have fake ID.”
Her jaw drops. “I knew ya would be the better roomie.” She reaches into her own purse and lifts out an ID as well. “I still want to dress slutty, though.” She grabs a red dress from her closet. “Yer what—a four?” She tosses me the super-cute red strapless dress with a white lace waistband. “Ya can keep this; it doesn’t fit me anymore. I’m an eight, and there’s no going back. Every time I lose too much weight I lose my boobs. It’s not a sacrifice I’m willing to make. And no one wants to see the weight-loss rock-in-a-sock boobs. I’m too young for that shite.”
To my surprise I snort again. “What is this, a prom dress?”
“Prom must be sad where yer are from. That is not fancy enough, not even close. Were ya raised on a farm?” Her eyes glisten.
I open my mouth, not seeing a farm but a nun. It’s the strangest flash, and I swear it’s a memory, but that’s not possible. I narrow my gaze.
“Gods, how horrid it must be if ya have a mug like that one on ya when asked about home. Tell me, was it terrible?” She leans forward, her eyes widening.
I swallow and fight the shudder ripping through me. “No. It was bliss.” The words feel like a lie. “Small town, great parents, suburb life. Very perfect. Close to the city.” There really is nothing else.
“Dull. I sort of hoped you’d be a serial killer or something fascinating. That cat makes you more interesting than you are, by far.” She loses all her excitement with a sigh. She’s joking, but it hurts my pride just a little. She gives me a smug grin. “But I can tell, ya haven’t been out here—have ya? Partied here in Seattle?”
I shake my head. “We never made it. We had plans, but the party at home was always better. My parents went to the city all the time to have their version of an escape.”
“It’s a goddamned fashion show. Now pull that on.” She strips her T-shirt off, revealing her perfect breasts and tight body. I could actually hate her, but the dress in my hands is too pretty to focus on her stunningly curvy body in envy.
We dress quickly, as if we are actually going to a fashion show. Heels too high and dresses too short. I don’t think I’ll be able to outrun anyone, but I have a feeling it won’t matter.
I dab a final coat of gloss over my lips and take one last look. My teased-up hair is sexy with wide dark curls and a ton of shine.
Angie has on a sexy black cocktail dress that flares at the hips, showing her long, lightly freckled legs—tanned and slightly freckled like her face. Her ruddy skin glows in a way only a redhead’s can.
“Ready?”
I feel way too dressed up but I nod. When we leave the dorm room, I blow a kiss at Binx as I watch Angie lock the door.
When we get outside, we receive several looks crossing campus from the girls in sweats and tank tops. The warmth of summer is still upon us. It’s a warm autumn here, but not too hot. At the curb, Angie hails a cab, taking us into the city.