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Her mom slid another pin into place. “At least your dress is a little more elegant. I can’t believe Quinn had this hanging in her closet and she bought that thing.”
“Yeah, me either.” Becca swallowed. Quinn only had this dress “hanging in her closet” because Becca had used her dad’s emergency credit card to buy it—and she hadn’t wanted her mom to know.
The dress was strapless, a pink chiffon gown with a corseted back, laced with a dark pink ribbon that bared a strip of skin down the center of her back. The skirt flared from her waist and fell just past her knees. She’d paired it with strappy silver heels to flash it up, but next to Quinn, she looked downright modest.
“I think that’s it,” her mom said. “What do you think?”
Becca stood and looked in the mirror. Her mom had pinned curls at the crown of her head, leaving tendrils to curl around her face and down her back. Quinn had done her makeup, all shimmering pinks and silvers, and the colors left her gray eyes bright and open. Innocent.
Looking at her own gray eyes made her think of Chris.
He’d been distant since Tuesday. Her father had painted over the pentagram again, and this time it had stayed gone. When she asked Chris about it, he’d looked at her hard and said, “So you don’t need to worry about us anymore.”
Becca wasn’t sure how to take that. He ran so hot and cold. Showing up to offer her a ride to school—but making surly comments in her driveway. Defending her to Michael—then chasing her off their property. She couldn’t figure him out.
So she’d shut up and focused on class.
She had no idea whether he’d be at the dance.
“Bex?” said her mom. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” She shook herself. “It’s beautiful, Mom. Thank you.”
Quinn wolf whistled from the doorway. “I can guarantee you won’t be wearing that all night.”
“Quinn!” For god’s sake, her mother was standing right here.
But her mom, at least, was used to Quinn’s antics, and she just swept the remaining bobby pins into the box. “Come downstairs so I can take some pictures before I have to leave.”
Her mom was working tonight, sparing Becca the awkwardness of introducing Hunter—and forcing him to endure pictures and questions, while guaranteeing herself a bunch of crap tomorrow morning about his piercings.
They posed for the photos; then her mom was out the door, and it was just Becca and Quinn.
They sat on the couch, perched on the edge so they wouldn’t wrinkle their dresses.
“I like that bracelet,” said Quinn, reaching out a hand. “Very new age. Where’d you get it?”
Becca blushed. “Hunter. Sort of.” She didn’t think twine bracelets worked with the dress—but for some reason she couldn’t make herself leave the stones sitting on her dresser, either. So she’d strung them on an old silver chain and looped it around her wrist a few times.
“He really likes you.”
She stroked her fingers over those stones. “I really like him.”
“But you’re thinking about Chris Merrick?”
Becca stared at her.
Quinn shrugged a little. “I’m not an idiot, Bex. You wouldn’t have dragged me across the field to apologize if you didn’t have a thing for him.”
“I do not have a thing for him.”
“Please. There’s some serious pining going on here.”
Becca giggled. “I am not pining.” Was she?
“Maybe we should do a side-by-side comparison,” said Quinn. “Like one of those charts. Best ass. Nicest hands. Sexiest eyes. Oh, I know! Biggest—”
Becca hit her with a throw pillow.
