Maria, my petite, soft-spoken friend with an affinity for colorful headbands—today it’s Kelly green—wrinkles her nose. “Their blush has this, like, white base that makes me look ashy. And their foundations don’t have a lot of range for darker skin.”
“Ew.” I drop it back onto the shelf. “Fuck that brand, then.”
Maria laughs as we make our way out of the store. No one buys anything.
We walk together down the sidewalk, peeking in some of the other stores. The sun still warms our shoulders despite the evening hour. After grabbing some ice cream from a nearby shop, we settle ourselves at an outdoor picnic table.
“You gonna be okay at work for the next few weeks?” Joan pulls a lock of blonde hair off her face. Joan worries about everyone—that’s kind of her thing, caring more about others than she cares about herself. I wish I could be more like her sometimes, but it also seems exhausting.
I wave her off. “I’ll be fine.”
Maria adjusts her headband, a nervous habit she adopts when she’s about to ask someone an uncomfortable question. Her voice comes out a little breathier than normal. “So, you’re sure Grant hasn’t changed from high school? He could be better.” She smiles. “Is he cute?”
“He’s really hot,” I grumble. “But this isn’t some sexy rivalry. I legitimately fucking hate him. And if he has changed, I’m not sure I care.”
“I hate him too, then,” Maria says. “Is he still being an ass?”
“Actually, yeah. Except now it’s worse, because he’s hiding it under layers of fake courtesy. He doesn’t understand why I hate him, and it’s making him crazy. He thinks I’m a raging bitch.”
Gwen, my prickliest friend, stops eating her ice cream to stare at me. A bit of ice cream drips off her nose ring, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Wait. You didn’t tell him who you are?”
“Nope. I’m not going to either. I like messing with him.”
The others have stopped to listen. The golden-hour light paints a soft glow over the weathered picnic table. My sandaled feet brush against the soft grass. We’re sandwiched between two businesses in an outdoor corridor with eclectic furniture. It’s lovely, but I suddenly feel uncomfortable.
“I’ve never known you to keep anything to yourself. Ever,” Gwen says. “You couldn’t even get through dinner without telling us about that dream where you bang your spin class teacher.”
“Don’t we all dream about that kind of thing? He’s cute.”
“I’m just saying,” Gwen says. “You’ve gotta work with this guy for almost three more months, right? I just don’t see how you can go that long without revealing anything.”
I grin at her. “You going to live vicariously through my drama?”
“I mean, kind of, yeah. But I also just think it could help clear the air. Maybe he’ll know to stay away from you then.”
I shrug, trying to deflect despite knowing she’s not going to let his go. I have a close bond with my three best friends, but of all of them, Gwen and I butt heads the most. Gwen can be bristly, despite being completely gooey on the inside, and I’m loud, brash, and obstinate, and together we’re like a Brillo pad meeting a brick wall. We love each other anyway.
“I’ll tell him eventually, I think. He hurt me a lot in high school, and you know how I am with vulnerability.” I shudder, then turn toward the others. Gwen’s face softens. “I’m supposedto have a high school reunion in two weeks, and I told a couple of my old friends I would be there. If he’s there, I’ll let him know.” I’m almost certain he won’t be, but I don’t say that out loud. What resident has time for such a thing? “Anybody want to come with?”
To my surprise, Gwen nods. “I’m down,” she says. “I’m not doing anything that weekend, and I’ve been wanting to see where you grew up, anyway.”
“Are you sure?” I stare at Gwen. “You want to drive all the way across the state to my tiny hometown with me? We’ll have to stay the night. I was kinda joking about someone coming with me. Also, you have ice cream on your nose.”
Gwen shrugs before wiping her face. “You look like you need the support. I’ll go, I promise.”
“All right, then. It’s a date.” I drop my spoon into my empty ice cream cup and feel my cheeks lifting. “I have other news too.”
Joan squeals. “Is it what I think it is?”
“Yep.” I’m grinning now. “I got an interview.”
A chorus of congratulatory whoops go up around the table. My face heats.
“So, I guess I’m finally giving up on my dream of being a famous singer. Provided I get in, that is.” I smile again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” Joan says, and I laugh.
“I don’t want to get ahead of myself.” I look around the table. “But at least I have something to look forward to.”
