Page 97 of The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad

Every time Colton noticed something like a fluttering pulse (how could my pulse not flutter when he trailed his hand slowly down my neck?) or a gasp (because his hand on my lower back felt freaking amazing), I deflected like a pro.

“Oh that,” I’d said. “It’s just part of the dance.”

“It sure felt real,” Colton had grumbled.

“That’s the whole point. We want people to believe this”—I’d gestured between the three of us—”is all genuine, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Colton had said. “If this whole dancing thing doesn’t pan out, maybe you should try acting. You’re really good at it.”

“Thanks, you are, too.”

And he was. Although Colton had definitely caught me staring at his lip ring on more than one occasion, I’d noticed him staring at me as well. There were times when we’d hit a pose or come out of a lift, dip or spin, and I totally thought he was going to make a move, was sure he was going to kiss me. But then Colton would blink and back off, once again becoming his normal cool, unaffected self. It was wishful thinking, but if I hadn’t known better, I definitely would’ve thought he felt something for me, too.

If I was a good actor, his performance was Oscar-worthy.

Saturday came, and before I knew it, Betty was doing my makeup, getting me ready to do this dance that I loved with the two guys that I loved.

“This is so exciting,” Betty said, adding something called contouring to my face. “You look fabulous, dear, just fabulous. After I finish, you’ll be ready to make your grand debut.”

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Betty,” I said, but she shushed me.

“Oh, hush now,” she said. “I already told you. It’s my pleasure. Eyes closed, please.”

I did as she asked and felt my eyelids getting the same treatment as the rest of my face.

“Those twins sure are gorgeous,” she commented. “Kyle’s a peach, and Colton sure seems to be smitten if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“He’s not,” I said, lips turning down. “He’s doing this to win a bet.”

I couldn’t see it, but I heard Betty sigh and knew she was shaking her head. “Oh Sadie, you really are blind if you can’t see his feelings for you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, lying through my teeth. “It’s not like I’m smitten with him either.”

“Now, you know I’m far too smart to believe that big of a fib,” Betty said which made me blush. “But think about it, Sadie. Why would Colton agree to do the life makeover? Why would he do this dance when, as you’ve mentioned, he hates dancing? Why would he ask me…”

“Ask you what?” I said when she’d been silent too long. Silence was not one of Betty’s strong suits. I was immediately suspicious.

“Never mind,” she said. “It’s not important. Now, open those beautiful eyes, so I can do your mascara. Has he seen you yet? In costume, I mean?”

I was still suspicious but decided to let it go. If Betty didn’t want to talk about something, it was like pulling teeth trying to get it out of her. “Not yet,” I said, though I had texted Colton a picture of my corset the other day. I’d laid it out on my bed all nice and proper, snapped the pic and sent it his way.

His reaction had been underwhelmed.

I could see that he’d read the text. The little dots that let me know he was typing appeared then disappeared. This went on for a few minutes before I finally got his response.

Colton Freakin’ Bishop:Looks good. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Maybe he wasn’t a big fan of red satin and lace?had been my first thought, but then a worse possibility. Maybe he just wasn’t a big fan of me.

“I can’t wait to see his reaction,” Betty laughed, “and Kyle’s, too. They’re going to faint dead away at the first glance.”

“Nah,” I said, “I don’t think so.”

Betty just sighed again, putting the finishing touches on my lips. At length, she stood back, tilted her head this way and that, then nodded.

“Sadie Day, you’re an absolute knockout,” she pronounced, stepping away so I could look in the mirror.

It was my first time getting to see myself since she’d started, and I was truly impressed. My skin looked like porcelain, smooth and flawless. My eyes were smoky, my cheeks high and defined with a rose blush, and she’d accentuated my lips with ruby red. She’d even managed to set my wild hair in smooth waves, falling around my face. I looked like a starlet, a powerful femme fatale with a dash of innocence. It was the perfect look.

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