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“See you later, Holland,” he says, picking up his knapsack.
“See you around, Donnelley.”
He flashes me a smile, but it doesn’t warm me. It just leaves me confused and a little sad. Most of the girls who have crushes on Eli Donnelley have probably felt this way at one time or another.
And I guess in that regard, I’m really no different.
7
“You look incredible, Hol,” Jasmine murmurs as she applies a final coat of mascara to my lashes. “I think you were born in the wrong decade.”
“You’re right. I could have been right at home in the sixties,” I say, surveying myself in the mirror that hangs on the back of my dorm room door.
Tonight, I’m wearing a fitted peach dress with skinny fringe along the cleavage, white knee-high go-go boots, and a thick, black bracelet. My hair hangs long and loose around my shoulders, but the top is puffed up in a bouffant style from that era. A gorgeous pink and white lily is tucked behind my ear, completing the look.
Jasmine’s gone heavy on my eye makeup, and she’s paired it with frosted pink lipstick.
“I owe you one, Jas. I could never have done my makeup like this.”
“Yeah, you could have, but you just don’t care about shit like this,” she points out. “Beckett’s going to freak out when he sees you in this getup.”
“Beckett and I arejustfriends,” I remind her. “I told him that’s all I wanted to be.”
“I know, but—”
“No ‘buts.’ Just friends.”
She rolls her eyes and puts the cap back on the mascara. “Whatever you say.”
“What are you and Dante up to tonight?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Pigging out on candy in his room while we watch slasher movies. I’m not a fan of costume parties.”
“Still sounds fun. Cuddling with Dante can’t be that much of a hardship.”
She grins. “Trust me, it’s not. All right, I better get going, and so should you. Didn’t the party start, like, an hour ago? And don’t you have to go meet Beckett?”
“Fashionably late is better than desperately early,” I assure her. “But yeah, I’m stopping to get Beckett on the way there.”
I glance at the time on my phone, then drop it into the tiny black purse I borrowed from Jasmine. It’s the only thing that fits in the purse besides the lipstick.
“Have fun,” she says, waving as she goes out the door. “You look hot!”
“Thanks, Jas.”
I grab my small, fitted leather jacket for the walk over to the party and slip it on before taking one last peek at myself in the mirror.
I have to admit that Jas is right. I do look good.
The costume is in-your-face sexy, but even though I don’t have banging curves like Jas or Mandi, it works. I found a push-up water bra in the back of my underwear drawer, and it gives me a nice bit of cleavage.
Okay, time to go grab Beckett and get this show on the road.
* * *
“Jesus, you look horrible, Beckett.”
He’s all sweaty, his hair is stringy and matted, and he looks green.
