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Seeing as how Scarlett wanted to pursue a career in fashion, she already knew she was headed to the fashion capital of the US, which already put us in different schools.
“Totally. I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Way to go, Papa Ewe.”
I snorted.
“Okay, so we need to talk about homecoming,” she said in a firm tone.
My thoughts quickly drifted to Topher and the deal he made with Julie, but I pushed them away just as fast. There was approximately zero chance she’d lose, so I groaned. “Do we have to?”
“P, it’s our senior year. We’re going toallthe dances.” She waved her arms. “It’s our last chance to make memories while we still can.”
“I know, but we don’t even have dates.”
“Um, hello? What am I, chopped liver? We’re going stag, but together. Lots of girls do that, so it’s no big deal.”
Do they though? I wasn’t so sure. It seemed like one of those things that sounded good until we got there and were the only losers at the dance without a boy on our arm.
Regardless, I knew I was stuck. Scarlett would hound me about the dance until I relented, so it was easier to save us both the effort.
“Okay, fine.” I sighed. “I’ll get my ticket on Monday.” I pictured all the hard-earned dollars from my summer job dwindling away.
“No worries. I’ll pick both of ours up together and you can pay me back later.”
In other words, she didn’t trust me to get mine on my own, which, honestly, I couldn’t blame her considering my lack of enthusiasm.
“But who knows,” she continued, “maybe we’ll meet some major hotties from now till then.”
“Doubtful,” I muttered.
“Gosh, I need a boyfriend.”
I snorted, because Scarlett said this about once a month. Meanwhile, despite the fact that I was her best friend, she could have her pick of a bazillion boys, unlike me, who may as well be a swamp monster. Not many guys wanted to date Skunk Girl.
“You could totally have a boyfriend,” I pointed out.
“Blech. But look at our choices. I mean, boys like JT, Mikey, Luca, and that kid in my philosophy class that picks his nose? Is that really the best we have to choose from?”
I laughed because, even though I agreed, Scarlett was picky to a fault.
“Besides,” she said, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder, “I’m waiting—”
“For a college boy,” I finished for her because I’d heard it a million times. “Someone more mature. Educated. Worldly. Someone with class.”
She grinned. “Is that so much to ask?”
I snickered as we headed out of Scarlett’s neighborhood, past the mall and the giant shopping plaza that housed all the high-end retail in Lakewood like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Prada. Steakhouses and seafood joints blurred by our window as we headed into the smaller, older area of town with the bowling alley and small eateries, such as Mary’s diner.
“So . . .” She shot me a sly grin. “How’s Topher?”
I fell silent a moment, running through all of our interactions this past week. It was strange how quickly I’d gone from never speaking to him to talking on a daily basis.
“Did you know he has a 4.0?”
“Topher?” Her brows rose to her hairline. “So why does he have a tutor?”
“That’s what I asked. Apparently, he’s a perfectionist that likes to have a study partner. I don’t know; it’s odd.” Then I added, “I get the feeling his dad’s a jerk.”
