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“I told you.” She retreats back into her closet, disappearing completely. I caught a glimpse of the interior of that closet when she first walked in there, and I was impressed.
It’s huge. With all sorts of shelves and racks and an island in the middle of it.
“I want to see inside your closet,” I announce.
She appears in the closet doorway, a panicked expression on her face. “No way.”
“Why not? Whatcha hiding in there?”
“I’m not hiding anything.” She yanks the door shut behind her and stands in front of it, her hands braced against the wood. “It’s a mess.”
“No it’s not.”
“It kind of is.” She doesn’t move from her spot, and I don’t move from the chair because I think it’ll take some concentrated effort to get my ass out of it—it’s that comfortable.
“That can’t be all. Come on, Scar. What exactly are you hiding?”
She sighs, her shoulders falling. “I have a lot of stuff, okay? And it’s sort of embarrassing to show people who don’t really know me.”
“A lot of stuff, huh?” I raise my brows. I’m guessing that’s an understatement.
“Yeah, and it keeps coming. Look at this.” She turns and goes back into the closet. I hear her rustling around, and within seconds she’s reappeared with a giant wicker basket full of packages. “And this is only from the day after that photo of us first appeared. There’s a huge stack of boxes in my dad’s office and even more boxes waiting for us in the building’s mail room.”
Scarlett brings the basket over to my chair, setting it on the floor with a huff, like it weighs a lot, which I’m guessing it does.
“What is all this stuff?” I lean over the chair and start rummaging through, recognizing a few of the brands on the sender labels.
Prada. Chanel. A couple of cosmetic companies.
“Gifts mostly. They want me to wear their stuff and talk about it on my socials. I’ve been doing a lot of ‘get ready with me’–themed posts lately, and that’s when I put my makeup on and do my hair. I’m getting so much makeup they want me to feature, it’s kind of crazy.” She laughs, the light sound smacking me right in the chest. Wouldn’t mind hearing that again. “And they’re giving it all to me for free! I think I might do a giveaway or something. I could never use all of this. Plus if I held a contest, I could probably gain more followers.”
“You don’t need to do a giveaway to get more followers. You have a lot already,” I point out.
“I’d do it mostly just to get rid of some of this,” she admits. “I can afford all of this, yet they send it to me for free because they want me to share it with my audience, which I’ll totally do. But I definitely don’t need any of it. I’d rather give it to someone else.”
This girl has a heart, which I didn’t think was possible considering how snippy she’s been with me. I wrote her off as a spoiled rich girl when I first met her, and while that can’t be denied—even she admits she has a lot of shit—there’s kindness inside of her.
And that’s refreshing.
“I need to see this closet.” I haul myself out of the cushy pink chair and make my way toward the closet, Scarlett right on my heels.
“No, oh my God, please don’t go in there!” she’s practically shrieking as she wraps her hands around my arm and tries to stop me.
I’m too strong and too fast. I slip out of her grip easily, striding right through the open door and coming to a stop as I take it all in. “Holy shit.”
There are clothes literally everywhere. An entire wall consists of white shelves filled with shoes. Another wall is nothing but designer bags. There’s even a freaking short hallway that leads to another section of the closet.
“I know.” She sounds miserable, and I look to my right to see she’s standing next to me, her expression pained. “It’s too much.”
I can only imagine how expensive everything in this closet is. Or maybe I can’t imagine—I don’t know. There’s probably millions of dollars in shoes and bags alone. “I mean, if you’ve got it...”
“Some of it is my mom’s. Her clothes are the absolute best, and her vintage designer bags are so gorgeous and well made compared to what they sell now. They look like they came straight off the runway, they’re in such good condition.”
I stop at the island in the center of the closet. There are jewelry cases everywhere. Glass dishes full of rings. An earring holder, a necklace holder. The entire top surface is covered in a variety of jewelry, and it’s all glittery, the majority of it pink. I’m guessing none of it is costume. Well, the designer stuff probably is, but it’s some of the most expensive costume jewelry that’s ever been made.
“I don’t let anyone in here,” Scarlett admits as I continue wandering around, tilting my head back as I try to take it all in. “This is my private sanctuary. I barely let Rachel in here, which infuriates her.”
“Do you come in here sometimes and sit with your designer bags just to keep them company?” I shove my hands in my pockets, mentally counting all the Chanel bags sitting on one particular shelf. The shelf above it is nothing but Dior. The shelf below the Chanel is full of a mixture of Louis Vuitton and Fendi. “And do you have something against Gucci?”
