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“Who’s all going?” Lizzie asks, always ready to gather intel.
He shrugs. “Everyone, I guess.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think—”
“Sure, we’ll probably make a cameo,” Lizzie says, cutting me off.
“Cool.” Ty’s shoulders loosen before a smile curves the edges of his lips. His gaze shifts to mine, and I feel the connection straight down to the tips of my toes. “I guess I’ll see you there.”
“Definitely,” Lizzie says in response when I remain mute. She gives him a wave as he walks away, disappearing through the thick crowd of evening shoppers.
I wait until Ty is out of earshot before whispering furiously, “There is no way we can go to that party! Chad is friends with Brett, and he’s not going to want me there.”
My brother and I were only together in high school for one year. He was a popular senior while I was a lowly freshman. It wasn’t all that difficult to avoid him on the weekends. He partied hard most Saturday nights while Lizzie and I hung out at my house and rented movies from Family Video. Every once in a while, we would prank call the guys Lizzie crushed on.
A devious light enters her eyes as she waves a hand. “Don’t worry about your brother, I’ll take care of him.”
“Exactly how are you going to do that?” Brett treats Lizzie like an unofficial sister. The pesky one he’s barely able to tolerate.
“The less you know, the better off you’ll be.”
She’s probably right about that.
Danielle
“What do you think about this?”
I glance up from the magazine I’m flipping through as Lizzie emerges from her walk-in closet holding Daisy Dukes in one hand and a neon green-colored tube top that can probably be spotted from outer space in the other. Music pumps from the speakers of her stereo.
My eyes widen.
Is she serious?
When it becomes apparent that she is, I shake my head. “That’s not really my style.”
She huffs out an exasperated breath. “It could be if you gave it half a chance.”
“I don’t think so. That’s more you than me.”
She gives me a look that says—duh! “It’s one of my favorite outfits. You know what?” Lizzie inspects the ensemble with more care. “Maybe I’ll wear this tonight.”
There is no way I could pull off clothing like that, but Lizzie on the other hand?
Absolutely. The girl oozes self-confidence while I’m more reserved in my attire. My bestie is always trying to pry me out of my shell. So far, it hasn’t worked.
“You’ve got an amazing bod,” she adds. “You need to show it off.”
I glance at the outfit again. “Not like that, thank you very much.”
She gives me an exaggerated eye roll before disappearing back inside her closet with a grumble. Hangers are yanked one way and then the other before she reappears with an overflowing armload of colorful material.
I shake my head in wonder. “You have enough clothes to outfit a family of four.”
“What can I say? I love fashion. It also doesn’t hurt when your mother has a serious shopping addiction. It’s a lethal combination that works out well for me in the end.”
She’s not kidding about that. Half the pieces still have price tags dangling from them. I nix most of the offerings until she gets to a cute, light-wash denim skirt that she pairs with a pale pink sleeveless top.
“Oh!” I point from my sprawled position on her trundle bed. “I like that.”
Scrutinizing the outfit, she wrinkles her nose. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I frown. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Kind of boring.”
Maybe to her, but not to me. “Nope, it’s perfect.”
She holds out the skirt and top for me to take. “One of these days, I’m going to give you a total makeover.”
Lizzie has been threatening to do this for years. I’m afraid at some point she might actually make good on her word. My bestie loves changing up her appearance. She’s been begging to straighten my hair and dye it black. With my fair skin, it’s doubtful the whole Morticia look would go over well.
Before I can respond, a song by New Kids on the Block comes on and Lizzie squeals, our previous conversation forgotten as she scrambles to the stereo to turn up the volume. “This song is totally bitchin’!” She goes a little dreamy-eyed before collapsing on the bed. “Joey is such a cutie.”
“No way, Jordan is better,” I say automatically. This is an argument we have on a daily basis. It always ends up as a draw since neither of us is willing to budge from our positions.
She grins. “You always go for tall, dark, and handsome.”
True. An image of Ty pops into my mind. He fits the description to a tee.
I shed the Orange Julius uniform and pull on the cotton shirt and short denim skirt before stepping in front of the full-length mirror. The pastel colors set off the tan I’ve been working on this summer, giving my skin a glowing hue.
