“Oh, that.” A laugh bubbles from my throat. I do love the sound of that ultra bright and cheery scenario. “Actually, he sort ofismy brother.” I fill her in on the fact Grant is officially my Greek big bro.
“Wow.” Her brows dance like fuzzy worms. “So, like—you did get any clear signals—you know, in the carnal way?”
I hold my breath a moment. “Not really.” My shoulders sag right along with my affect. “He said he just broke up with his long-time girlfriend. I guess dating isn’t too big on his priority list at the moment. I think he sort of likes me in the little sister category, if you know what I mean.” I smash a fistful of fries into my pie hole at the thought.
“You poor thing.” She brings a napkin to my mouth and carefully dabs my lips. “A sure-fire way to get a boy to notice you is for you to notice someone else.”
“Really?” I glance up at the ceiling while trying to digest the thought. “That’s so seventh grade.”
“It might be seventh grade, but it worked then, and it works now.” She pulls me in by the chin, inspecting my face with an eyebrow arched high into her forehead. “I see we’ve got some work to do. But trust me, once I’m through with you, you’ll have that frat brat eating right out of the palm of your pretty little hand.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh, honey, there isn’t a darn thing I can do. We’re going to pay a visit to my good friend, Caila Jace.”
I’m prettysure Owen would die a slow and painful death if he knew Daisy was gifting me the deluxe tour of the inside of a strip club—never mind the fact he once spent a short stretch of his life shedding his own clothing in a dive just like this one.
“You can stop grinning at that glittery pole,” Daisy chastises while speeding me to the back of the establishment. “This is a one-time deal. Once Caila gives you a lesson in glam, you’ll be set to go. That boy won’t know what hit him. Trust me, basketball will be the last thing he’ll want to play with his newfound little sister.”
A glamazonian blonde pulls herself off a white vinyl sofa. “Wow, that sounds wrong in just about every way.” She extends her svelte long hand my way. “Caila Clayton—Jacefor show.” She gives a little wink. Wow is about the only word I can think of to describe her. She’s tall, in skyscraper heels, decked out like a Halloween costumed version of Barbie with a face that almost looks inhuman. She’s unbelievably beautiful, and just so happens to be wearing an unbelievable amount of makeup. There’s no way I could afford that much cosmetics just to maintain the upkeep on a daily basis.
Daisy sits me in the red velvet chair in front of a barrage of suitcases, each sliced open to reveal a rainbow’s worth of cream and powder palettes.
Caila brushes back my hair with her purple nails painted in a chevron pattern and inspects my features. I can feel her soft breath on my face, and it’s weird. It’s unnatural to have someone sizing you up, nodding to themselves, mumbling something about the need for an airbrush.
“You’re a natural.” Caila smirks as if this were a first-class offense, and if the cosmetic industry had anything to say about it, I’m sure it would be. “Daisy, take her phone and record this so she can replicate it on her own.” Caila meticulously scrubs, tones, and moisturizes me before applying layer after layer of products. Who knew the pore filler went before the concealer but not before foundation, which goes on before the highlighter? And the gluing of the lashes!Gah! Glue on my eyelids!GLUE! Then the painstaking, and quite painful plucking of my brows, the artificial filling in of my brows, followed by the contouring of my cheeks, jaw, forehead, and nose, and finally, the meticulous lining, priming, and painting of my lips.
Dear God. I sigh with relief once Caila steps away with that open-mouthed smile, those wide Bambi eyes with the finger-length lashes.
“You ready to see the transformation?” Caila clasps her hands when she says it like a well-pleased Dr. Frankenstein.
Something about the wordtransformationdoesn’t sit well with me, and suddenly I’m afraid to have a look for myself.
Caila and Daisy spin me around for the slow reveal, and I gasp at the sight.
“First”—I clear my throat—“there should never be a day when a person looks in the mirror, and they think they spot the girl who sits next to them in American history—you should see yourself in the mirror each and every time. And second, I need to get to Hollow Brook fast before my face turns back into a pumpkin.” My face glows like a paper lantern, my eyes would make any feline proud, and my lips, well, they are made for stamping out a perfect kiss print on any basketball player’s jersey. “My new big brother really won’t know what hit him.” Or apparentlywho, but that’s not a detail I have time for at the moment.
IhaveDaisy drop me off at The Row, right in front of Kappa G, but considering she let me out on the wrong side of the street, I’m only steps away from the big reveal.
Beta Kappa Phi is lethargic inside compared to its Friday night fright, with its wall-to-wall body action, its quaking floors and mattresses. I’m about to ask a couple of guys lounging on the sofa for directions to Grant’s room when I bump into a quasi-familiar body.
I hold out a finger at the tall, preppy-looking dude. “Rash?”
“Rush.” He inches back a notch. “Hello, and who are you?” His arm swoops around my waist without the proper permission, so I carefully remove it. “You can equate me with an STD any day.” He gives a little wink.
“Sorry, Rush. Is Grant around? It’s me, Ava, his little sister. We met at the mixer.”
“Are you sure that’s you?” His head bobs from side to side as if my face were trapped somewhere beneath all the layers of the spell Caila cast on me.
“Yes, it’s me.” I swat him over the arm. “Now, take me to your leader. I’ve got a face to show off before the spiders that are glued to my eyes crawl off on their own.”
“Nice.” He makes a face. Rush is handsome by anyone’s standards, but as good-looking as he might be, there’s nothing in me that’s remotely interested. It’s clear my hormones lean heavily toward his frat brother. Just the thought of seeing Grant makes my stomach explode with the flutter of a thousand butterfly wings. “Grant’s at the gym.” He nods to the door. “I’m on my way. I’ll give you a ride if you want.”
Of course, Iwant, so Rush drives us in his truck back to Whitney Briggs, and we trek across campus making small talk about Lucky, his new little sister and her panache for biting any guy who even thinks of getting near her. She’s pretty dead set on rowing through life on her own. I don’t tell Rush this, but Lucky seems to think she’ll be happy with a handful of “fuck buddies” to get her through the sexual side of life—her words not mine. I’m not sure what her hang up with men is. Her brother, Jet, is a really decent guy. If he knew of her promiscuous plan, he would have an aneurysm.
“The gym is his favorite place to hang out. If you ever lose him, you’ll know where to find him.”
Byhim, I’m assuming he means Grant. And if that’s so, I’m in luck because the gym is just a hop and a skip from my dorm compared to the long walk to The Row.
