Page 62 of Dove
“Hey,” I protested weakly. “I’m not into all this like you, Rev.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed easily. “I nearly fainted at that crusty old mascara you handed me. You should have your girl card revoked… I don’t think that brand evenexistsanymore.”
Honestly, she was probably right. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bought makeup for myself. That tube was probably a Christmas present from my mom, back when I was dabbling in makeup as a preteen—when she still had high hopes that I’d enjoy girly things, like she did.
That was before she moved us out here and I fell in love with the country life... and a certain country boy.
Both finding a place in my heart far more than makeup ever could.
“I’m a simple girl.”
She snorted. “You can say that again. You’ve got slim pickings here… Thank god I came in clutch, huh?” She waved a hand over the bathroom sink that was littered with makeup and curling irons and other apparatuses I honestly had no idea how to use.
This was Rev’s way of fishing for praise, I knew, so I pushed off the toilet seat I’d been sitting on to hang off her shoulder, meeting her eyes in the large bathroom mirror. “Yes, Rev, thank youso muchfor saving me from myterribly unfeminineways. My femininity would perish without you.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips told me she’d happily take the credit.
Nostalgia ached in my chest. I missed these days; the days of us getting ready in the bathroom after school, where Rev lamented about how decidedlyun-girly I was while I watched her fuss over her appearance from the edge of the tub I perched on. She’d always been present at the parties Josh and I had thrown, never missing one if she knew Zeke would be in attendance.
I never had much interest in it all, content to watch her preen and perfect her makeup and hair while I pulled mine up and away in a matter of seconds, face clean but bare. She always said a little effort never hurt anyone, throwing me a pointed look soothed by a playful smile.
All the extra workdidturn heads, I supposed. She’d gotten the guy, after all, hadn’t she?
I guess that’s what I was trying to do now.
Get the guy.
I’d wished Josh a happy birthday in the kitchen this morning, feeling awkward with empty hands. I had nothing to give to him—not even a card. It’d completely slipped my mind, what with everything going on, and it wasn’t like I’dexpectedto celebrate his birthday. We hadn’t for years now, not since he’d left, even if I always sent a silent birthday wish to the sky, hoping it would find him wherever he was, healthy and whole.
Wishing him a simple happy birthday this morning made me feel guilty. Made me wish for the years we’d been in high school, when my mom had made our birthdays special by baking us our favorite cakes and whipping up special dinners that ended with gifts.
I remember the first year we’d celebrated Josh’s birthday as a family. Mom and I had handed him the present we’d picked out together after dinner, and his face had frozen in shock. It’d taken a little shake of the box to get him to grab it, hesitant to unwrap it as if he didn’t believe it was really his.
The Hex men hadn’t been big on birthdays until we came along.
Every year after that, we made it a point to make his birthday special. Gareth’s, too, of course.
Josh’s smile this morning as I wished him a happy birthday had made my heart skip a beat. I’d forgotten he’d gone so long without his birthday being celebrated, something I hadn’tunderstood until I found out it was also the anniversary of his mother’s death. I imagined these past few years had been similar, or had he found someone in that new life of his to wish him a happy birthday?
A pang of jealously hit me harder than I expected.
Maybe all this was for nothing. Maybe he had a girlfriend waiting back home for him, friends,someonewho made every day special, not just today.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking about in that noggin of yours”—Reverie interrupted my spiraling thoughts—“but do it sitting down. I’m moving onto hair and makeup next.”
I obediently sat back down on the closed toilet seat, letting my friend fuss over the state of my hair.
“You’re in desperate need of a trim,” she grumbled under her breath, fluffing my hair out from where it had been pulled up into a messy bun.
I closed my eyes and let Reverie do what she did best, content to enjoy having my best friend here with me instead of thousand miles away.
Guilt stirred low in my stomach as I remembered how crestfallen Josh had looked when he’d seen Reverie pull up earlier.
Chores and work didn’t stop on a farm, not even for birthdays, but he’d causally mentioned going out with Eddie afterward. He’d also reminded me that the invitation extended to me if I wanted to come. That last part had been accompanied with a voice that hinted it would be great if I did, but I wasn’t obligated to.
There was nothing more I wanted than to tell him Iwasgoing. But I played it cool, hearing Reverie crystal clear in my head, coaching me. Sometimes you had to play a little, leave them guessing,intriguethem. She’d texted earlier in the day with orders to keep her updated on all things Josh.
When I messaged her about his plans, I was instructed, under no circumstances, toagreeto going out.
