“You’ll kill someone. There’ll be old men there. Harry’s on a pacemaker!”
I blink. “Well, he should be fine then, shouldn’t he?”
Fraser wraps an arm around me. “Ignore them, Summer. They’re just a bit confused, on account of the fact you look like every wet dream they’ve ever had combined.”
“Oh. Yay!”
“She just saidyay,” Cameron says to Alec incredulously. “Out loud.”
Alec says nothing. I can feel his eyes on my skin.
Fraser leads me to the door, shaking his head. “All right, coat on. Christ. Can’t believe you made this yourself. You’re amazing.”
I beam at him.
Cameron pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s just get this over with,” he mutters.
FORTY-FIVE
ALEC
All three of us watch in silence as Summer straddles Isla on a bar stool, holding her down as she paints her face. Around us, the Dewdrop is busy with its usual Friday evening crowd. The windows are fogged with condensation. The jukebox is blaring, the fires are going, and every booth and table in the place is stuffed with villagers nursing pints.
And almost every eye in the place is on Summer.
“Her dress is getting shorter, right?” Fraser asks, his eyes fixed on her. “Or…or is it a mirage?”
“It’s shrinking,” Cameron growls. “Or she sat in something wet and now it’s sticking to her arse.”
I don’t respond, taking a deep breath through my nose.
Summer looks unreal tonight. The outfit she madeis almost obscene, the white lace flirting over her soft thighs. It’s more than just a short dress though. Her lips are sparkly. Dangly earrings flicker around her face when she moves. She’s put glitter all over her eyelids. She’s twinkling like a star. It’s hard to take your eyes off her.
Unsurprisingly, she’s attracted attention. There’s a table of teenage boys next to us, and they all gape every time Summer leans over Isla and bares a little more thigh. Fraser whistlesto get their attention, then mimes cutting his throat. They all hastily look back into their glasses.
Aside from the locals ogling her, Summer’s also gathered a group of fans who are intently listening to her monologue as she demonstrates Isla’s makeup. “You need to match the undertone,” Summer says very seriously. “If you only match the overtones, the foundation will look right in some lights, and in others it’ll look like your head’s been photoshopped on. Trust me. I’ve had the allegations. It was not fun.”
Mrs Hussain, my year-four maths teacher, raises her hand. “I’ve always been told I’m a warm tone, but whenever I try that, I look orange,” she complains.
“No,” Summer announces, furious. “Whoever told you that is your mortal enemy! You’re atextbookcool-toned. I can tell even in this light. I have some correction drops, hang on.” She rummages around in her makeup bag until she finds a tiny bottle. “Aha! Put two drops in your foundation, it’ll add some blue.” She tosses it over.
“She’s amazing,” Fraser mumbles.
I have to agree. This is Summer in her element. She’s not pretending or trying. She’s happy and confident. It makes me want to drag her to bed and never let her out.
Summer knocks a mascara wand off the table and bends to pick it up, and Isla glares at me over her back. I feel a pang of guilt.
Aside from Cameron and Fraser, Isla was my closest friend growing up. We were both always in the top set at school, so we partnered for everything, and we stayed close after graduation. Until my dad died, I used to visit her at the pub at least once a week.
Today’s the first time I’ve seen her in over a year. I meant to come down to congratulate her after her engagement, but I wasso caught up on Lochview I never made it. Judging by her face, she clearly isn’t happy about that.
Summer reappears, holding a mascara wand. “Here we are. Do you prefer black or brown, normally?”
“Dunno,” Isla says.
“Really?Do you not like makeup at all then?” Summer strokes mascara onto Isla’s lashes. “I’m not peer pressuring you, am I?”
Isla shrugs, trying to stay still. “I like makeup. I just never learned how to do it myself. It’s…embarrassing to try. I feel like I’m being a girl wrong, so I don’t bother.”
