Page 3 of Hot for Her
I glanced at the black long-sleeved off-the-shoulder crop top and white skirt she’d paired with black lace up ankle boots. Then at my faded plum oversized V-neck shirt, ratty dark wash cut offs, and converse. Camille had a raven pixie cut that was highlighted with whatever suited her mood typically. Blonde and maroon today. She was gorgeous—petite and curvy and knew how to contour with the best of them. Beside her, without Drew as a buffer between us, I felt frumpy.
“I missedhanging outwith you. Being at work is not the same thing,” she clarified.
“I missed hanging out, too.” I pointed to her vape-thingy in the center console. She said she’d quit, but the inside of her SUV smelled like a little too much of the Victoria’s Secret perfume she used to cover it up. “I thought you were going to quit vaping, because, and I quote, ‘popcorn lung is not cute.’”
She waved her hand while backing out of my driveway. “I did. Then me and Derek broke up again and I was so stressed, I was eating a ton, so I started vaping to lose the weight I put on.”
She was a size four at most. I wore an eight on a skinny day. If she needed to lose weight, then I was doomed. But since she’d been dating Derek, she was constantly criticizing herself. Derek the Douche, Drew and I called him. He used Camille for everything from a piece of ass to gas money.
“You know, there are plenty of ways to lose weight without getting cancer, right?”
“Noted, Mom,” she said half-heartedly. She glanced in the back to make sure Ethan had his headphones plugged into his iPod as usual. Confirming that he did, she leaned over a little. “So speaking of sexual confusion, tell me about this vow to lose your virginity. Drew says he’s screening candidates. Any idea who’s going to be the lucky fellow to finally get some?”
“I could kill Drew. I swear.”
She turned around in the cul-de-sac, keeping her eyes on some kids riding their bicycles in the street. “Please don’t. He’s my best tipper.”
He’d been giving me a hard time all summer. Since he’d finally gone all the way with some mystery guy he’d met at the camp where he was a counselor, he’d declared I needed to give up my V-card the summer before our senior year. I’d made the mistake of telling him that I felt ready, but didn’t have the time to go out and meet anyone. I’d known all of the boys in our small town since I was Ethan’s age. And they’d seen me go through my disproportionate body, braces, and acne stage—otherwise known as middle school. They weren’t exactly lining up.
Freaking Drew. Now he’d drug Camille into his badgering. Jerk.
“No one is getting any.” I paused to text Drew a quick death threat just as we passed his house. “Um, speaking of Drew, aren’t we picking him up?”
Camille’s petite face scrunched. “He’s not coming.”
“Why not? Where is he?”
She sighed. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say, but I think he has a date. He cancelled last minute. Like five minutes ago, actually.”
“He was just texting me about the carnival. Think the mystery dude from camp finally showed up?” I frowned at my non-responsive phone. Last week he said that they’d made plans a few times since camp, but the guy kept making excuses and ditching him. “He didn’t mention anything to me.”
She shrugged. “It was weird. Right when I pulled into the neighborhood, he called. I heard a guy’s voice in the background and then Drew said he was going to have to skip it tonight, that he had double booked himself.”
“Double booked himself? What is he, a freaking Marriott?”
Camille laughed. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
It didn’t make sense. He’d been complaining all summer that I never spent time with him and Camille anymore. Even coming to my job today and having his mom convince me that she’d keep an eye on my mom for me tonight. Now here I was, incurring my mom’s wrath to spend time with him, and he’d bailed.
It wasn’t like him. Camille was the one who bailed last minute, not Drew.
He didn’t answer my threatening texts either. Not even with the eggplant and donut emojis I expected. It left me with a strange feeling that I couldn’t shake during the twenty-minute drive to Riverside.
The carnival was along the water’s edge beside a campground, so Camille parked in the lot connected to the RV park.
The three of us walked toward the entrance together. I checked my phone one more time as we approached the gate. Still nothing except a low battery notification on my screen.
I’d been so busy all day, I forgotten to charge it.
“There’s Caleb,” my brother told me, pointing at his friend and a few other boys his age congregating near the gate. Then he mumbled, “Please don’t buy my tickets like I’m a baby.”
“Here,” I said, giving him the twenty bucks I’d made in tips that day to buy his dinner and play games or ride rides or whatever twelve-year-old boys did.
He pocketed the money then greeted his friends.
“Thanks, Em. Hey, if Caleb’s mom says it’s okay, could I spend the night with him tonight?”
I didn’t even have to think it over, though I pretended to. It was probably safer since mom would probably still be angry when I got home.
