Page 43 of Furious
Chapter 11
Keeping Secrets
ZARA
I’m not gonna lie, I’m nervous.
Mom and Scott are back today from their honeymoon, and I have to wonder what our new normal is going to look like.
The guys are convinced that our parents won’t have any objections to my “official” relationship with Lev. The hope is that they’ll relax about how close I am to my stepbrothers and that will give us some space to figure out what we really want without their constant scrutiny.
The fact that I’m dating Chance and Ares as well as Lev is far from the only thing we’re hiding, though.
I’m worried sick about what would happen if they found out about the racing.
And of course it isn’t just them I’m keeping secrets from. Chance and Lev are hiding the races from me and Ares. I’m hiding that I’m “the guy on the Ducati” from all of them. I know I need to tell them, but I’m scared of the consequences.
Especially when it comes to Ares. Deep down, however, I know it’s just a matter of when I’m going to come clean about it, not if. And whatever their reaction, I know it’s going to be betterif they hear it from me rather than finding it out in a different way.
But for now, I push these thoughts aside and concentrate on welcoming home the happy couple.
“How do I look?” I ask Heather.
“Classy and hot at the same time.” She beams. “You have no idea how lucky you are with your dark hair and green eyes. It’s a classic combo, beautiful and elegant.”
This is one of the things I love about Heather. She’s always so supportive of other women’s beauty. I’ve rarely heard her criticize someone’s outfit in a mean way. Whenever she’s offered me feedback on my appearance, it was always in a helpful way.
“Thank you.” I smile. “But I could say the same about you. Blonde hair and blue eyes is also a classic beauty combo.”
“Girl,” Heather sighs, squeezing my hand. “It’s the hardest coloring ever. My blonde hair needs so much upkeep to look flattering. If I didn’t get highlights and lowlights at the salon, my natural color would be a straw yellow that would make me look pale and washed out without a tan and without makeup. I still look washed out with my tan unless I wear eyeshadow, blusher and lipstick. And don’t start me off about my hairstyle.”
I run a strand of her blonde hair through my fingers. “What are you talking about? Your hair is silky and shiny and it feels like spun silk to the touch.”
“That’s because my hairdresser gives me a smoothing treatment every six weeks and I use straighteners every day. Do you want to see my natural hair?” she lowers her voice as if she were ashamed of something.
“It can’t be that bad if you get it to look so perfect.” I argue.
Heather opens a folder on her phone. “I’m showing you this because I trust you. But tell anyone that this is what my real hair looks like, and I’ll have to kill you.”
The girl in the photo looks like Heather if you look closely, but her hair is a mess of tight, wild curls.
“Wow,” I can’t hide my surprise. “It’s very different, but it’s still pretty, in a natural way.”
“Liar.” She pulls me into a hug. “But I love you for being so kind. The truth is that I look horrible. My parents wouldn’t let me get a chemical smoothing treatment until middle school and I cried every night when my mom would have to brush my hair to untangle it. Chance and Lev used to tease me about my hair resembling a bird's nest.”
It’s strange how even the most confident people hide insecurities we would never know about just by looking at them.
“I think you look pretty, no matter how you style your hair.”
Heather’s smile widens. “Thank you. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll get tired of being a blonde and come to the dark side. We could match.”
“Whatever makes you happy. I think beauty comes from being comfortable with yourself.” I offer.
She rolls her eyes. “Easy to say that when you look like a Disney princess without even trying.” Her phone pings with a text message. “It’s my mom. Your parents are here. Let’s go greet them.”
“Remind me to thank your parents for throwing this welcome home dinner.” I say, before leaving Heather’s room. “Your mom went through a lot of trouble. She even hired a caterer.”
“Ha.” She laughs. “Mom is in her element. She loves stuff like this. All she ever wants is an excuse to dress up and party.”
