I snorted. “I’m allergic to roses. And you’re starting to sound like a true Bakewell-ite.” I frowned. Bakewell-er? Bakewell-onian? “Anyway, the sooner I get it done, the more time I’ll have to chill with you later.” I was headed for the door when Gia stopped me.
“Hey, why didn’t you tell me sheep-manure guy was so hot?”
I cringed. I shouldn’t have told her about the whole manure incident. “You met Rowan? My condolences.”
Gia nodded. “He and Juniper were just here to bring over a sewing table. We now have thirty percent less floor space. And ten percent more pine. I don’t think the guy likedme, either.”
I didn’t doubt it. If Rowan thought I was superficial, Gia came across as ten times shallower. But anyone who knew her—like, reallyknewher—knew there was more to her than that.
Gia had her own type of kindness—a way of putting people at ease around her, no matter what. Like when she reassured Juniper she was pretty when we were walking to the store. She was also one of the most generous people I knew. She used to let me share her lunch money all the time back before I had a job, because I used to spend all my spare money on fabric. And she never went on vacation without buying gifts for all her friends. She was always sopositive. Honestly, sometimes I kind of wished I was more like Gia—not in the whole “expecting life to be a party all the time” way, but more like...she made life seem so easy. Effortless. She made friends quickly and always trusted herself. I had no doubt Gia would one day be the style influencer with a huge platformandthe rom-com star she wanted to be.
The part of Gia people saw first, her attitude...hershallowness... was mostly fake. It was a persona—she put it on because she wanted people to think she was fun, lighthearted, and influential. But someone like Rowan wouldn’t even try to get to know her and see the real Gia. He was the very definition of a “judge first, get to know later” guy.
“You going to make a move on him?” I asked. I really hoped she wouldn’t. I’d already decided to pretend Rowan didn’t exist all summer, and it’d be awkward if my best friend was dating an invisible guy.
She snorted. “I thought about it, but nah. I’m no masochist. He did nothing but grunt when he met me. Oh wait, he sneered, too—when Juniper told him I took pictures for your page. I’m positive there are guys in this town who will worship me the way I deserve. He’s a looker, though. Too bad about the personality. He’s nothing like his sister.”
“I know. Juniper is—”
“She’s too much.” Gia shook her head, chuckling. “She told me the full plot of two books in the time it took to bring a table in.”
I laughed. “Only two?”
“She’s just sowholesome. Giving us flowers, going on and on about that county festival. She’d be eaten alive in the city. Seriously. Bully magnet.”
I shrugged. “I suspect she may be dealing with that here.” I told Gia about the run-in with Addison.
“Holy shit—that’s some nerve to ask for help without actually letting her on the team. The Bakewell locals sound terrible. I know—let’s adopt Juniper. We can even do a makeover montage. That’ll show them.”
I snorted. “Gia, this isn’t a teen movie plot! Juniper seems to have a real issue here.”
“It is a movie plot! We’ve got mean girls, the plucky book nerd with a heart of gold, even a Hallmark-esque small-town setting.” Gia put her sunglasses on and lay back. “We can help her. We can pretend it’sClueless, and she’s our Tai.”
I laughed. Gia was low-key obsessed with the nineties teen classicClueless. “I suppose you are as lily white and blonde as Cher.”
Gia shrugged. “My blonde comes from a bottle, though.” She stood. “That reminds me: it’s getting late and I still need to wash my hair. You do your work, T, because then? We need to make somefunhappen this summer. There’s got to be a beach nearby. Heck, I’d settle for the kiddie pool you promised.”
I kind of wanted to just chill and maybe watch a show or something after the long first day at work, but instead I set up my sketchbook on the new sewing table and started redrawing the rough sketches I’d made in the store. After about twenty minutes, I realized this wouldn’t work.
“The light is crap here,” I muttered.
I had a pretty good drafting light in my room back home, but the tiny house had only a ceiling fixture with one bulb.
“Tell me about it. I can flat-iron my hair blindfolded, though, so I’m good,” Gia said.
Gia was sitting on the sofa-daybed thing, a mirror balanced on her lap and a flat iron in her hand. I’d tried to get her to do her hair in the bathroom, but she claimed there wasn’t enough elbow room.
“Sketching is impossible in here.” I could see the rough sketches on my iPad, of course, but I’d wanted to make better pencil-and-paper ones to show my aunt.
The smell of burning hair wasn’t ideal to get my creative juices flowing, either.
“Go to Shar’s,” Gia said.
At dinner Shar had said she planned to marathon a show after we finished cleaning the kitchen.
“She’s watching that show with the vigilante priest. I need quiet.”
“You’re such a princess, Tahira. Go outside. It’s brighter out there than in here.”
