Page 87 of The Has-Been

We all fall, rolling with laughter as onlookers stare at us.

After gathering our composure, we find our feet, our cheeks red from laughter. My heart aches as I think about how much I’m going to miss this next year.

Rory hooks her arm through her sister’s, “I want details. What does he smell like? Does he smell good? I bet he smells sweaty, like cigarettes and sex. Oh, please tell me he smells fucking amazing.” Her eyes go soft.

But Reese can’t respond because June hooks around Reese’s other arm, “Is he as good as they⁠—”

Reese stops walking as we walk through the doors. Hands on her hips. “We’re just…friends.”

I wish, for my sake, that her words were more convincing.

“I guess you could call us friends. I don’t know. I’m just…” She’s quiet for a second and then…

“I’m just tutoring him. That’s all.” Her eyes go distant before they flicker with amusement, and she adds, “And yes, Rory, he smells so good. Especially when he doesn’t shower after practice, and he’s all sweaty and sticky.” Reese winks at me while my mouth hangs open, but then I realize what she’s doing…she’s messing with her.

Rory screeches. “I want one!” she whines as if referring to Reid like he’s some type of pet.

“Absolutely not.” I counter and pry free their holds on Reese.

We continue inside, navigating through crowds of people already getting an early start to their Christmas shopping.

“Sorry, I don’t have any juicy details for you all—but I think one of us does…” Reese eyes me.

That little hoe—she’s supposed to have my back! Then again, she did catch us together the other morning.

“Oh, I figured something was happening since I heard her vibrator going at it this morning. I just figured Liam was just a little out of practice,” Rory says as we walk into the store.

“Rory!” I scold as we enter, as I’m certain I see a mother leaving the store who’s covering her son’s ears after she overheard us.

“Sorry!” Rory calls out, waving to the mother, who is staring daggers at us.

Reese slaps a hand over her face, greeting the saleswoman as we enter.

“If it isn’t my favorite customers! The beautiful Vaughn sisters!” the elderly woman greets, pressing kisses to each of Reese’s cheeks. We’ve been coming here to buy our tailored gowns since we were old enough to wear heels. Cynthia very well knows we aren’t sisters, but according to her, sisterhood is much more than blood.

And I couldn’t agree more.

Cynthia is quite the remarkable artist. She custom-makes our dresses, hand-drawing and designing each one. I would hate to say how much our grandmother pays for them, but she insists. And honestly, it’s something we look forward to each year—even me, who is definitely the most casual dresser of us all.

She takes us to the back and offers us seats around the 360-degree mirror.

“First up is the eccentric and unique—Miss Rory Vaughn,” the elderly woman announces with a thick Italian accent.

Rory giggles as she throws her purse toward her sister and darts into the dressing room.

Several minutes pass until my youngest cousin steps out. We each clap, taking turns admiring Cynthia’s incredible work.

As the youngest, Rory’s beauty has always been overlooked.

I’m admired for my tanned skin and dark features; June for her elegance and perfect posture; and Reese for her eye-catching beauty and bedroom curves.

Rory is the mix—the perfect blend of each of us.

And the olive-green dress…it highlights the features that belong only to her, those of someone with an Autumn color palette. All topped off with contrasting light eyes that only further complement her dark look.

Rory claps her hands, then pulls Cynthia in for a quick kiss on the cheeks.

June’s next, slipping into the dressing room. She emerges in a butter-yellow gown, and I can tell by her expression that she isn’t sold on the color. June is the fashion expert, so she’s always the hardest to please. Still, the shade suits her, highlighting her eyes and complementing her chestnut hair. When Cynthia places a diamond-studded necklace along her thin collarbones, June beams.