AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I remember that night so clearly, I doubt I’d ever forget. I was wearing a solid white tiered dress with puffy sleeves that rested about two inches above my knees. It was paired with a very cute pair of strappy Birkenstock sandals.
“I looked cute as hell at the party last year.” It makes me depressed to think about how that night ended. How my dress was destroyed. How covered in mud my sandals were. The stains on my knees that I scrubbed for hours from falling in the leaves too many times to count while I waited to hear footsteps behind me.
Footsteps that never came. Thanks to my hero.
“You always look cute as hell,” Brogan says as she heads to my closet. “But tonight, we’re not going for cute. We’re going for fucking hot.”
I scratch my head, knowing I won’t win this battle. I love my sister to death, but she is one persistent beotch.
“All right.” I throw my hands in the air, letting them fall as I drop down on my bed. “Go have your look-see. But I want options.”
She claps her hands together excitedly. “Then options you shall get.”
Brogan and I compromise on a long-sleeved black smock dress. I haven’t worn it in a couple years, so it’s shorter than I’d like. She said that’s what holds its appeal along with my boosted cleavage that peeks out of the top. Fighting me on my shoes is a battle she knows she won’t win, so she didn’t even fight me on that. The finishing touch is a pair of black open-toed midsummer sandals with straps that hug my ankles.
I checked the weather this morning, like I do every day when I wake up, and it looks like clear skies with a high of sixty-five tonight, so I should be okay without a sweater.
After begging—on her knees, I might add—I agreed to let Brogan do my makeup. We go back into her room and I hesitantly sit down on her vanity stool.
“Just subtle, Brogan. I mean it.”
Brogan’s favorite pastime is doing mine and Lake’s makeup. I won’t deny that she’s really damn good at it, but she adds on a lot more layers than what I prefer. I wear makeup daily, but Mom always says, “The best way to wear makeup is to make it look like you’re not wearing any.” So that’s what I do.
Brogan makes a throaty sound and cranes her neck. “Subtle is my middle name, sis.”
I cover my mouth and cough out the word, “Bullshit.”
Brogan presses her chin to my shoulder and looks at my reflection in the mirror as she drags her fingers around my hairline, bunching my hair. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “At least, not that I know of.”
Brogan and I tell each other pretty much everything. There are some details of my life I leave out, if I think it’s necessary. Such as the drama with Rome and Abby. I’m just not at a point where I feel like I need to share anything about that. It’s mostly out of worry for Brogan. She’s a new junior and Abby’s an established senior with a big following at Willow Creek High. The last thing I want is for her to confront Abby and risk her name getting dragged through the mud.
I made the decision pretty quickly not to tell Brogan, or anyone else, about the way those guys groped me last year. It wasn’t just because of the threat, but I know my mom would try to pursue legal action. At that time, I didn’t plan to ever return to Willow Creek. I was fortunate enough to make it back in the hotel without Mom or Lake noticing my destroyed dress. I quickly changed, and the next day, I threw the dress in the large dumpster on the side of the hotel.
I also have zero intentions of telling Brogan about what happened in that storage room today. Do I feel guilty about not telling her? On so many levels. But more so, I feel ashamed. Rome is our new stepbrother. What would she think of me? Rome and I didn’t even kiss—not that I would have wanted that. But he did put his fingers inside me. Now that I’m thinking about it, I feel dirty and ashamed. If I could go back and knee him in the balls before his hand went down my pants, I would.
After a few minutes of dabs and strokes on my face, and some curls in my long brown hair, Brogan takes a step back, grinning from ear to ear. “Girl, you are going to give the guys a run for their money tonight.”
“If only,” I mumble. For once I’d like to grab the attention of a guy who isn’t Rome. But something tells me he’s definitely going to be in my path tonight. He wanted me to go to this party for a reason, and I can’t even begin to imagine what that reason is.
CHAPTER 12
ELODIE
With my arm locked around Brogan’s, we walk down the paved driveway from where I parked on the side of the road. I decided to drive my car because I’m sure Brogan will have a couple drinks. We made a promise that when one of us wants to go, so does the other.
I still don’t know whose grand estate this is, and I haven’t bothered to ask. I could tell from my first night here last year that all the residents of Willow Creek are extremely wealthy, but I’d guess someone very important lives at this house.
“Greedy” by Tate McRae blasts through the speakers, and I feel the bass through the ground as we get closer to the house. The loud chatter and laughter are barely even audible over the blaring music.
As we approach the house, the smell of burning wood fills my nostrils. The front door is wide open with people coming in and out, drinks in hand.
There are people scattered everywhere—out front, around the fire, coming up the driveway, and going down. I’m not sure I’ve ever been part of a crowd so big. I’ve been to a few parties, but none of them were this lit. Then again, Bakersfield is much smaller than Willow Creek. Even so, the party last year was half this size.
Sensing my unease, Brogan asks, “How ya doing?” She squeezes my arm, doing an excellent job of making sure I’m comfortable. It’s one of the reasons I wanted her here with me.
“Good, actually.” I smile, meaning the words I say. “This should be fun.” Seeing how many people are here sets my nerves at ease a bit because it means no one is going to give a damn about little ol’ me.
