He grins, showing off the dimple in his right cheek. “Then I’ll be there.”
“You didnotinvite Devlin,”Chelsea says, plopping onto my bed and grabbing Mr. Mittens, my stuffed kitten, from on top of my pillow and hugging it to her chest. “Why’d you invite him and not Storm?”
I wrap a strand of hair around the curling iron. Yes, some things you do the old-fashioned way instead of using magic.
“Well, because we made a big breakthrough in his invention today, that’s why. Plus, Storm is out of town.”
“Sounds like somebody’s in love,” she says in a singsong voice.
“Stop it.” She rolls onto her back and tosses Mr. Mittens into the air. “Be careful with that. He’s old.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to harm your stuffie. But what about Storm?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He’s great and all, but I don’t know…”
He’s not Devlin. It’s as simple as that. Devlin may not be the man I need, but he’s the man I want. The past few days—hell, the past few hours have proved that to me.
Chelsea sits up and stares. “Wait. Are you and Devlin…together?”
“No. No we are not. We are definitely not together. Not in even the closest sense of the word. But we have become…friends, maybe?”
“Friends. I see. Friends who kiss?”
“Quit.” I pull Mr. Mittens from her hands and toss it at her. She catches it two-handed. “We’re just friends and I only invited him tonight because I promised to celebrate this breakthrough he had with his invention.”
“Whose invention?” Dallas asks from the doorway, a toothbrush in her mouth.
“Blair has the hots for Devlin,” Chelsea tells her. “They’re smooching.”
“No, we’re not! We are not doing that, and if you say one word to him tonight, I’ll hide all your nail polish.”
Her jaw drops. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. I’d even hide Cajun Shrimp.”
She gasps. “But that’s the best color.”
“I know.”
Dallas laughs. “You can have all my nail polish.”
Dallas is the tomboy in the family. Very little interest in makeup, doing her hair—all of it.
“Anyway,” I say, finishing up my curls. “Isn’t it almost time?”
Chelsea jumps up. “Yep! Let’s find you something to wear.”
“Why can’t I go in this?” I joke, flashing my bathrobe.
“Because it’s going to rain,” Dallas says, walking away. “I gotta go spit.”
Chelsea drops Mr. Mittens onto my bed and heads to my closet. “Let’s see. What should you wear?” She grabs a yellow sundress from the rack and spreads it over her chest. “It might be winter here, but it’s summer in Feylin’s garden. So, this. You should definitely wear this. It shows a lot of shoulder, and your boobs look great in it.”
I laugh. “My boobs look great in it?”
“Yes, they do,” she confirms.
“Fine. Now get out of my room so that I can finish getting ready.”
