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“Take it, or die of heat stroke.” Vic shrugs, closing his hatchback pulling the back door open.
“I don’t even know where we’re going.”
It’s the truth. And frankly, my head is still spinning - both from all the information I’d gleaned tonight, and from watching Piper and her mother nearly duke it out right there in the kitchen.
“Consider it a group activity,” he answers, reaching into the backseat and pulling out a backpack. He slings it over his shoulder, shutting the door and leaning forward to adjust his hair in the reflection. Suddenly, he looks nervous, and I cross my arms, the other shirt still in my hand, watching him. After a second, he looks back. “What?”
“I’m not wearing this.” I hold the shirt back up. “It’s…what even is this?” I pull it open.
“It’s called retro.” Vic’s nostrils flare. “I got it with a plan to frankenstein it with a few other things, but if you’d rather sweat like a pig in front of your girl and all her friends-"
He tries to snatch the shirt away, but I hold it back.
“Fuck, fine.” He smirks, and motions with his head for me to follow him back through the red front door. “Are they always like that?”
“Bee and Piper?” He looks over his shoulder as we cross the threshold. “You get used to it. You should see Bianca in court, it’s scary as hell.” He shakes his head, pointing at the curved staircase in front of us, framed in a deep burgundy wall littered with more family pictures. Shit. I don’t think my family and I even have this many pictures all together, much less ones we display like we actually like them. “First door on the right.” He pauses, and then smirks again. “You’re welcome.” Before I can question him, he turns to walk down the hall back toward the kitchen, and I step up the stairs, stopping in front of the door in question.
Piper’s Room: Do Not Enteris written in scrolling, glittery letters.
Vic just may have become my favorite person in this house, aside from the girl whose childhood room I’m about to scope out.
Gripping the shirt tighter in my hand, I turn the knob and move in, shutting the door quietly behind me like I’m in Mission freaking Impossible. When I whirl back around to face the bedroom, a sea of purple and pretty boys stares back at me.
Holy shit. It looks like Tiger Beat and Hot Topic exploded here. What in the actual hell?
The only normal thing in the room is a dark wood double bed, covered in a purple comforter, but even that is littered with beaded throw pillows, one that reads “Team Edward” in a font I distinctly recognize as belonging to Twilight. Posters and drawings litter the wall, and right next to a vanity littered with old magazines and small dumbbells is what may as well be a shrine to the youngest member of the Jonas Brothers.
Behind me, I hear Piper’s voice through the door. “Fitz?” A grin spreads over my face.
“I’m decent,” I reply, stepping forward as she quietly opens the door, slipping inside and closing it as quietly as I had. “You were not kidding about Nick Jonas.” She goes from surprised to horrified in about two seconds flat, and I laugh, turning back around and leaning forward on the foot of the wood bed frame, taking it all in. Piper pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Welcome to Piper 1.0,” she says, gesturing around the room.
“Piper 1.0 was very…” I step a few feet toward the wall, running my hand over the letters someone clearly hand painted around the chair rail. “Unique.”
“Fuck off,” she says with a laugh, pointing to the words in front of me. “They’re all designers.” Her finger makes a circle, and I swivel, looking at all corners of the room. Givenchy. Lilly Pulitzer. Michael Kors. Juicy Couture.
“How early-two-thousands of-"
I don’t even get the sentence out before she’s whirling on her feet, throwing a pillow from a nearby egg chair at me.
“Jesus,” I cry, holding my hands up as she pelts me with another pillow. “So violent.”
“Oh, you haven’t begun to see violence.” She makes a move toward the pillows at the headboard, grinning, and I laugh, dropping Vic’s shirt on the bed and grabbing at her waist. Piper giggles, half-heartedly batting me away, but she stills, her fingers splaying out on my chest as I settle my hands on her hips. “Well, you’ve officially seen into my teenage soul.” Her eyes flit to the wall behind my shoulder, and she grins. “Hey, look, it’s you.” I whirl, and my eyes land on a pegboard criss-crossed with purple ribbon. Nestled in one corner is a picture of a group of kids standing in a field, flanked by horses.
“Holy…” I reach my hand up, yanking down the photo and sitting on the bed. Piper settles at my side, leaning over to inspect it with me. Twenty or so of us, all huddled around a campfire, in various degrees of pre-teen awkwardness. “Camp Wildwood, right?” She nods, pointing to a brace-faced little redhead on the front row, kneeling like something out of a Captain Morgan commercial. Come to think of it, that’s probably exactly what I was doing on our sixth grade class trip.
“Knock, knock.” Alex’s voice comes at the exact time she pushes open the door, not waiting for anyone to respond, and she’s got her eyes covered like she’d expected to walk in on us completely nude. “Does he have a shirt on?”
“You’re all-clear, loser.” Alex separates her fingers, turning toward Piper’s voice until she spots us on the bed fully-clothed.
“They’re not naked,” she calls a little too loudly, and Piper hisses next to me. Carla pops her head in the door looking disappointed, and Penny follows. “We had bets going to see how undressed you were.” Piper tosses her Team Edward pillow, missing her friend by about a foot.
“Come look at this.” Piper takes the picture from my hand, holding it up. Outside, a car engine purrs to life, and I face her.
“Is that my car?” I reach to feel for my keys and find them still in my pocket. She laughs, patting me on the shoulder.
“You’re not the only one with a sexy ride.” Alex makes a vomiting noise, and as they settle on the bed behind us, Nolan, Brett, and Dylan appear in the doorway.
