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I let Bry smear color on my lips and then clear lip gloss. I let her choose my clothes—a rather conservative black dress she found at the back of my closet and a pair of her classic black high heels.
I lean toward the mirror. I don’t look like myself. I’m not even sure I feel like myself, after all this time without caring about how I look—but the excitement over seeing Joel again, kissing him and hopefully spending the night at his place is stronger than the confusion.
The thought I might catch a glimpse of the elusive Jethro while there keeps popping up, and I squash it ruthlessly, again and again.
Joel and Jethro are just good friends. I’m not coming between them. And I can’t have them both. Kissing even one part of the fabulous duo is a miracle.
You can’t have both, Candy. Be real. I mean, even Brylee is in shock, after learning who I’m going out with tonight. Donna seems to be taking it in stride, but she’s probably just hiding her shock better.
Connie had a total freak-out in chat today when I told her. Sent all sorts of open-mouthed emojis, too.
“Biatch,” she wrote, “you’re totally shitting me. I shall expect photographic evidence of any close encounter with J-One. Evidence! Or I’ll stop speaking to you.”
“You just want them so you can pet your kitty to the photo of them.”
“Kitty is purring. Also, by the way, what about Ellen?”
Yeah, what about Ellen? She completely slipped my mind over the excitement of Joel kissing me and asking me out for drinks.
How could I forget about her? Crap. If anything else happens with Joel, I need to clear the field.
Before anything else happens.
“So, this Joel Kingsley,” Brylee says. “I was talking to a guy who used to work at the college the other day, and he mentioned him.”
I frown at my reflection. Brylee has applied such a thick coat of mascara my eyes look like porcupines. I put my glasses on and sigh when my lashes stick to the lenses. “Mentioned him?”
“Yeah. There was a scandal with him, wasn’t there?” Brylee asks.
“Scandal? Nah.” I’d have heard about it.
And if not, someone would have told me about it. My crush on J&J has never been a secret.
“It was caught before it went viral.”
“What did?”
“The picture. A picture of Joel Kingsley, balls-naked, fucking some girls.”
“Bry.” I’m more shocked by Brylee using offensive language than the fact Joel was caught with his pants around his ankles and his dick inside some random girl. “I would have known.”
“No, because it was never posted on the internet. It was passed around through an app, and when the school found out, they put a stop to it.” She tsks. “I’ll find out more about it and tell you.”
“Not sure I want to know more.”
“Of course you do.”
She’s right.
“And the final touch…” She rummages in her drawer and pulls out a black choker, which she puts on me with a flourish. “All ready to go to the ball.”
I study myself again.
It’s me and it’s not me. I’m a nerdy girl. But I’m also a sexually frustrated vixen. I’m not light, like I told Jethro at the concert. There is some darkness in me. The things I want, the things I crave… they aren’t pure vanilla.
They aren’t what most girls want.
With less mascara, a less clingy top and shoes I can actually walk in… Yeah, this could be the new, updated me. The me who has a date with Joel Kingsley and may end the night with a glass of wine and a discussion about history and books, or more likely with wild, kinky sex.
