A pang of guilt seizes me. Lita’s been covering for me with my parents, lying to them so they won’t suspect anything is wrong. I pause on the sidewalk and tell Annika and Simone to go in the shop without me, ignoring their protests.
“Two calls in one week?” Lita says when she answers. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I miss you, but I don’t have long.” Already I see Annika and Simone loading up their arms with outfits through the store’s windows. “I’m out shopping with friends.”
She hmms. “I’m envious. Tell me, how’s work? How are your friends and the island? And that man?”
I smile. “It’s so good, Lita. I love it here.”
“I knew you would. I feel your enjoyment of it. I’m living vicariously through you. Will you send me pictures when we get off the phone? I’d love to see your friends. Simone and Annika? Are they the ones you’re spending time with?”
“Yes. You could meet them if you came for a visit, you know.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
I smile. “I’ll send you photos. I promise.”
“Your parents have been calling more this week, wondering about you. You need to call them or they’re going to get suspicious about what you’re doing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I hate lying to them.”
“Then let me do it.”
I wince. “I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”
“I’m right where I want to be,” she insists.
I groan. “Oh god. My friends are holding up an outfit they want me to try on.”
Calling it an outfit is quite a stretch. It’s a tube top with wide shoulder straps and a little ruffle detail around the square neckline paired with a shimmery sequin skirt in the same eye-popping hue.
“What color is it?” Lita asks.
“Red.”
“Ah, my favorite shade on you. Go. Try it on.”
“Okay, I love you, Lita.”
“You too, mi niña. Send me pictures.”
Later that night, after we’ve decked ourselves out in our newclub clothes and gonewayoverboard with the makeup and hair, I make Annika and Simone squeeze in close for a selfie and send it to Lita.
“What’d she say?” Annika asks, fluffing her blond hair.
I smile at her text. “She called us beautiful.”
“Beautiful?”Simone groans like it’s an insult. “I’m meant to be slutty!”
Annika and I burst out laughing just as there’s a knock on the door. Mia and Thalia waltz into our apartment sporting skimpy outfits of their own. Mia’s holding a half-empty bottle of vodka and Thalia has a plate of brownies.
“For me?” Annika exclaims, making like she’s going for the brownies only to veer last minute and wrench the vodka out of Mia’s hands.
“Easy there.”
“No, no coddling and no mention of Ethan. I want to forget he exists, and this is going to help me.” She wiggles the vodka in the air, and already I’m internally apologizing to my liver. I’m not a huge drinker, but I don’t want to leave Annika alone on her night of need. If she’s insisting on a round of shots, well then, here goes nothing…
We put on a fun playlist while we get busy making mixed drinks. Mia hates her hair, so Simone offers to help her with it, and then Annika blows everyone’s mind with this faint body shimmer she rubs on our collarbones and shoulders, giving us all that “just got back from vacation” glow.
