Page 7 of Do You Ship It

Everything always looks so effortless and easy for girls like them. Not just when it comes to things like boys and clothes, but …allof it. Friendships, homework, liquid eyeliner, sports, music …

I bet their home lives are a lot less stressful, too.

I bet it’s all so much easier, when you’re above it.

God, I would love to be one ofthosegirls if I could, and college feels like the perfect time to reinvent myself. And why can’t I? It’s just … refining how I present myself, until I believe it, too.

I open Instagram and see Evie’s new group – they’ve already uploaded Stories with their outfits of the day, causing me to promptly scrap both the yellow and lilac tops and pick out a tan turtleneck instead. It’s too warm for it, really, and I’m sweating as soon as I put it on, my hair a static mess of flyaways, but according to these girls’ social media it’s pumpkin spice latte season, global warming be damned.

I swap my trainers for a chunky pair of boots, and grab a jacket on my way out. Step one: complete.

Getting in with the girls at college isn’t that much different from immersing myself in the OWAR fandom for Jake. A few small changes here and there, and voila, everything will fall into place exactly the way it should.

As I make my way downstairs, I hear Mum shoutingin the kitchen, ‘Itoldyou I had a meeting to dial into this morning before we speak to the lawyers –’

And Dad snaps, ‘What, and I’m supposed to starve just because you’re in a meeting? I’m only here becauseyouneeded a lift into town while your car’s in the garage. So much for doing you a favour! Why can’t you just wear your bloody headphones?’

‘Because they can hear that stupid blender of yours down the street!’ Mum yells back. ‘As if someheadphoneswould make a blind bit of difference –’

I hesitate on the bottom of the stairs, hand gripping the banister so tight it hurts. I’m holding my breath, too, and hear the thudding of my own pulse hard and loud in my ears while Mum and Dad carry on bickering. Then there’s a clatter of Mum gathering up her stuff and then Dad saying, ‘Well, what’s the point in that? I’m done, I’m already leaving –’

She hisses back, ‘Yes, you are,’ with such venom that I flinch.

I nab my keys off the hook by the door, and slip out in silence.

There’s a Costa on the way to college, if I get off the bus a stop early, and this morning, I do. It’s part of The Plan.

Well. TheOtherPlan. Not to be confused withThePlan of becoming a fangirl to get Jake to fall in love with me. This one is a bit less monumental and life-changing, but it’s still important. I refuse to get stuck being some weird loner girl on the outskirts for the rest of the school year – or worse still, for theentiretwo years of college – so it’s time to change things up.

I’ve learned – mainly through a few overheard conversations, but partly through social media posts – that Evie’s group go to Costa every morning on their way to class. I’m too embarrassed to ask outright if I can sit with them at lunchtime or something, but we can totally strike up conversation on more neutral territory, I’m sure of it. It’ll be like a romcom meet-cute, only with less romance and hopefully no spilling an entire coffee over someone’s white shirt.

I run the risk of being a bit late for my media class, but when I get there and see some of the girls chatting near the end of the counter, most of them with cups in hand already, I know I’m making the right decision. After all, what’s five minutes and a disappointed look from a teacher compared to two entire years of loneliness?

Evie isn’t there, though, and she was going to be my way in. Even if we weren’t friends at school, we were friendly enough. What am I going to do now? I feel too far in to bail.

My palms are clammy and my chest feels tight, but there’s no Jake to save me now, with all his exuberance and openness and charm so I can follow his lead. I’m going to have to do this for myself.

Hell, if I can go to an OWAR convention, I can do this – right?

I join the queue, trying to look casual, even though my eyes dart in their direction every few seconds. I’m sure they must be able to hear my heart thundering from all the way over there, and I fight to keep from readjusting my stance to appear my most cool and carefree, while feeling anything but.

Finally, though, I get a bite.

One of the girls glances my way as she talks, and we make eye contact.

Even though that was always my intention, I flush, feeling caught-out.

She lifts a hand to wave, and smiles. ‘Hey! Carys, right?’

‘Um.’ I clear my throat, but say, ‘It’s Cerys, actually,’ and hope it doesn’t sound like I’m shouting across the cafe.

She pulls a face, somehow looking embarrassed but unbothered at the same time. Her name is Daphne – ‘likeBridgerton! And I’m, like, perpetually late to stuff, so my mum’s always yelling at me tomake haste, lol!’ as Iheard her proclaim in our media class at the beginning of term – but she has a look more reminiscent of a Love Islander than a Regency-era duchess.

Today, she’s in an oversized cream jumper and khaki trousers, and her hair is slicked back in a neat bun. The other girls have done their hair the same way. I pat down the flyaways that I never quite got under control around my own ponytail. She’s even got the knack of outlining her lips with lipliner to make them appear bigger, which I tried copying a few days ago and had to scrub off immediately. While she looks glamorous, I felt like a clown.

I’ve practically got a mental dossier on all of the group from seeing them around college (and a bit of a stalk on social media). Daphne is very much into the clean-girl aesthetic; she’s a willowy girl with long, black hair and pale skin that’s flawless, thanks, she claims, to her very well-documented-on-Instagram nine-step Korean skincare routine. There’s Nikita, a curvy brunette who reposts a lot of snarky, sarcastic memes, is a die-hardMarried at First Sightfan, and tends to wear a pop of colour with her beige-and-black-toned outfits; today, it’s a high-necked green jumper. Yesterday, it was a pair of red boots.

Evie, of course, I already know, but I looked her up on socials all the same. Blonde and petite, but with afar more curvy figure than I have, in a way that makes her look dainty instead of flat or boxy. She’s very into beauty influencers and fashion hauls, and alters her style often. Lately, she seems to have taken Daphne and Nikita’s lead, like I have.

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