“Chelsea. Look at me.”
I lower my hands into my lap and look up at him through my blurry vision.
“Hate is…it’s too easy,” he says. His face is calm, calmer than it has any right to be, his eyes not wavering from mine, like he’s so completely sure of what he’s saying. “Love. Love takes courage.”
day thirty-four
The mirror in my bedroom isn’t big enough for two people to use, so Asha takes her dress—carefully concealed in white plastic—and holes up in my bathroom. We have one hour before we’re supposed to meet everyone at Rosie’s. One hour is just enough time to get ready.
I pull my dress out from the closet and slip into it, sliding the thinned-down straps over my shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles. The deep emerald fabric looks amazing with my red hair; I’m wearing it in loose, long curls that spiral down my back. The gauzy chiffon skirt is just long enough to trail when I walk, even when I try it on with my black heels.
I look in the mirror and feel…good. Sexy. Sexy like I do when I solve a geometry problem right on the first try, or when I flipped over the tuna melt at the grill. This is even better because I did this—I made the dress look this way.
Asha emerges from the bathroom, and I’m honestly stunned when she appears in my doorway. She’s dressed in a traditional Indian gown, ruby-red and embroidered with gold, matching gold bracelets all up and down her wrists.
“Oh. My. God,” I breathe, and Asha smiles shyly.
“You like it?” she says.
“Are you kidding? It’s amazing, Ash. Where did you get that dress?”
“It’s my mom’s.” She comes into the room, bracelets jangling as she walks, and beckons to my cosmetics bag. “Could you do my makeup? I tried doing eyeliner and almost poked out my eye.”
I sit her down on my bed and get to work. Asha may know geometry, but I am the resident cosmetics expert. Smoky-black eyeliner, mascara to extend her lashes, a touch of gold glittery eye shadow, some dark dramatic lipstick—I explain everything as I put it on her.