Page 78 of Barefoot Lake

I let her work through whatever she’s feeling and plug in my flat iron to heat up. Ever since Piper taught me how to curl my hair with it instead of a curling iron, it’s all I’ve used. Best curls ever — I swear.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it!!!” Piper squeals and rolls around on her bed. She stops just to shout at me. “I told you so!”

“Ok, okaaaaaaay! You were right,” I huff out the words.

“Say it again.”

“You. Were. Right.” I smile.

She was.

“Was it amazing? I know it was amazing.”

“It was, in fact, amazing. Also, it’s been multiple times. For like the last two weeks.”

“What?!” she screeches, just like I knew she would. “We’ve texted daily, and you’ve been holding out on me!”

I section my hair and begin curling it.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I think I just wanted to be sure first?”

Piper smiles sweetly at me.

“So, are you?”

“I might be.” I know I’m smiling stupidly, and I don’t care.

“I’m SO happy for you, but I need details. Immediately.” Her face is split into an enormous grin on my screen, and I love how much of a girl’s girl she is.

Even though Piper is on a screen and not beside me, I’m reminded of when we would sit on my dorm room floor gossiping and eating junk food. Those were the days.

I walk her through the last couple of weeks as I finish my hair, but I gloss over some of the more… intimate details. I also leave out the entirety of Reid’s little visit. Telling her would introduce too many questions that need a much longer discussion.

Instead, I focus on Jake. I tell her about how good he is and how good I feel when I’m with him.

I rake my fingers through my bouncy curls and turn to show her the back.

“How’s it look?”

“Alice, you look stunning, but you didn’t give a single one of the important details. Now, dish!” Her impatience echoes around the bathroom.

She holds up her two pointer fingers and begins slowly moving them apart.

“Just tell me when to stop,” she says.

“Piper!”

“What? It’s a fair question!”

“Well, I’m not answering it.”

I try to think of what I can say without dying on the spot while I collect my makeup.

“He’s a big boy.”

My face is on fire.

“He’s, uh, also very not selfish.” I’m so red that it’s impossible to determine how much blush I should put on.