Page 39 of The Unraveling

I’m not sure what she means at first, but then I realize she’s talking about the popcorn.

I don’t respond, but rebelliously eat a piece anyway.

“I’m sorry if that sounded rude,” she says, “I’m just looking out for you.”

It’s sort of an apology. But in the way that means I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings and not I’m sorry.

“It’s fine,” I say.

She taps her head and says, “Como una cabra,” then rolls her eyes. “Now, shall we get out of here? I have an incredible bottle of champagne at home. We should celebrate that you’re going to meet the fucking Cavendishes.”

“That sounds good,” I say. “Ugh, it’s freezing.”

“I have an idea,” she says, giving me a mischievous look.

Chapter Twelve

“Your turn.” Arabella steps out of the water and into her silk robe. She then perches on the edge of the tub while I slide into the hot water. We’re both wearing a hair mask and a face mask. She lights a cigarette; the steam and smoke swirl together and loud French pop music is coming out of the speaker. I sink into the big tub and feel utterly relaxed.

“Okay, lift your leg. I’m going to shave you,” she says.

Look, I know. This bitch is crazy. But I kind of fucking love it. Her chaotic energy is exactly what I need right now. I’ve never had a girls’ night like this; it feels like it’s from the movies.

She’s using a terrifying-looking straight razor to shave my legs, one that she says is the same used on the men of the royal family.

“Nothing gets closer,” she says, when I ask her. “Okay, now stand up, it’s time to do the rest.”

“The rest?”

She gestures, and I realize what she means. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Oh, please. Have you ever gotten a wax?”

“Of course, but—”

“It’s the same thing, only better! You’re welcome, by the way!”

I shake my head but start to stand, hesitating still, because I can’t believe she means it. “Seriously?” I ask.

She shifts the cigarette to the corner of her mouth and sits with legs spread wide, like she’s offering a shoe polish. “Go on.”

I stand up. “This is so weird.”

“It’s a bit sensual, isn’t it?” she says. “A nice intimacy to have with friends. Leg on the edge, please.”

I breathe in deeply. “Why do women do this?” I ask. “Why do we feel we have to be completely hairless?”

“No, no,” she says. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just that we need to do what makes us feel as sexy and confident as possible. Head to toe. It may be just your secret, but people can tell when you’re at your best even beneath your clothes. Even if no one ever sees. Although they’d be so lucky.”

I bite my lip and look down. I agree. I love the feeling of just-shaved legs, and I do feel sexier. But this is so weird. But also, kind of…hot in a weird way. Which makes me feel crazier. Like suddenly I’m the one who’s being weird.

“Nearly through,” she says. “You have such a nice pussy.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that I’m taken aback. I laugh. “Thank you?”

She looks up at me. “Do you ever have sex with women?”

The tone of everything suddenly changes a little, and the blood begins rushing hot to my thighs. “Sometimes,” I say.

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