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“Whatever you want, birthday bit—” Yasmine starts before I cut her off.
“Yaz!”
“What?” she hisses. “She’s being a cow.”
“I can hear you!” Kat shouts.
“Well it’s her birthday,” I say, defending Kat. “She’s allowed to be a cow once a year.”
I eat my words when I pass her the toast a minute later and she takes a bite before pointedly spitting it back out onto the plate.
Dead serious, she holds it up and says, “Too cold. Make it again.”
Yasmine sort of leaps at her like she’s ready to have a go. I have to play peacemaker.
“Kat, eat the toast or I’ll fling it out the window” is the diplomatic response I settle on.
“Right, right. Sheesh,” she says, taking another bite before continuing to talk with her mouth full. “You’d just think on her birthday, a girl could get a decent breakfast from her best mates.”
She only gets worse as the day goes on. At the spa, she demands to go first for the facial and massage, and then she insists we do our nails too even though we’ve already racked up quite a bill. When Yasmine and I suggest a little deli round the corner for lunch, Kat declares we must go to a salad bar clear across town. It takes us ages to get there by subway, and when we arrive, the guy behind the counter tries to get my number. When I politely tell him no, he gets real snippy and all but barks the total at me. I think about leaving him a bad tip, but instead, I huff my way over to the salad bar to fill my plate with more food than I would normally get. That’ll show him.
After lunch, we head back to the flat to rest before our big night out. I know I saw Logan on Thursday, but it feels like it’s been ages since then and I don’t know what I’ll do if he ends up not showing up at the club tonight.
I text him in the late afternoon as we’re all lazing about, watching Legally Blonde. It was funny the first time, but Kat makes us watch it so often I can recite every line word for word. What, like it’s hard?
CANDACE: Still planning on coming tonight?LOGAN: I have a late dinner I forgot about, but I can still come out after with the guys. Just let me know where you end up.“Candace! This is the best part!” Kat says, taking my mobile out of my hand and chucking it clear across the sofa.
I do a deep breathing exercise to keep from decapitating her. “Kat. I’m truly going to kill you. Remind me to book a trip abroad next year for your birthday. Without you.”
“Shhh! I’m missing it!”
Yasmine shoots me a glare that says, I won’t say a word if you go ahead and kill her.
I contemplate it for a good long while, right up until Elle Woods’ speech at her graduation, then it’s time to get tarted up. It’s still hours until the clubs will be packed, but we all love taking our time putting on our makeup, tossing every item of clothing we own out onto our beds then mixing and matching them to get a perfect combo.
We all end up going with a variant of the same look: short skirt, cute top, ridiculous heels. Kat and Yasmine talked me into this coordinating black mini skirt and cropped top. At least the top has got long sleeves, but that’s where the modesty ends. It’s clingy and soft, the jersey material hugging my figure and making me look loads sexier than I usually am on an average day. Yasmine plays up my eyes with a bit of dark shadow, and then Kat helps me with my hair so it has some wave to it.
I think we look absolutely fabulous when all’s said and done.
When we’re out on the curb, waiting for our Uber, a passing cyclist gives us a whistle and I squeal. “See?! We look lovely! Even that biker says so.”
“He was about 75. Did you get a good look at him? He had no teeth.”
“So what? Clearly he’s got great taste!”
Our car pulls up and we all slide into the back seat, fiddling with our skirts. It’s no real use; they barely cover our knickers. If I were our mothers, I’d be very angry at us for going out like this, but I guess that’s the bonus of living across the pond—no one to tell us to cover up!
I text Logan which club we’re headed to, but he doesn’t text me back. I know it’s because he’s at his dinner, but it almost makes me a little nervous. I really want him to show. I want him to see me like this and eat his heart out. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Especially after all the times he’s seen me at The Day School, covered in tissue dressed up like a mummy or with a paintbrush stuck in my hair. It’s only fair that he should see me like this too, right?
