Page 7 of Kissing for Keeps
I’m glad I’m turned around because I can’t help but smile a bit at the curiosity in her voice. “You’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me if you have to work with me on wedding stuff.” I reach the door, arrange my face into something somber, then turn to her.
She’s staring at me like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious. Then, she starts laughing, and even though the entire point of my comment was to get a reaction out of her, the laughing lasts so long that it becomes mildly offensive. I’m tempted to remind her ofthe night, but I refrain because, while I’m very willing to walk the line by referring vaguely to it in order to get a rise out of her, I never outright bring it up. It’s a taboo subject, and I’m afraid if I use it against her, she’ll use it againstmeand spill the beans to Madi.
That’s not a chance I’m willing to take. Madi and I have reached a decent place in our relationship. Finally. We’re not close, but we’re on civil terms.
The first time I ruined things between Madi and one of her best friends, I was young and dumb. I was high on the feeling of a pretty girl liking me. The second time, I really thought there was something there, but it fizzled faster than a mid-2000s boyband.
I watch Siena as she tries to get a handle on herself, wiping below her eyes.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” I say.
“This lady doesn’t really care what youthinks. I laughed at your joke. It’s good manners.”
“If what I said is a joke, why are you so afraid of letting me help?”
“Because I’m thinking of Madi. Your sister. Remember her? You really think she wants us working together on this?”
I walk toward her. “C’mon, Sheppard. If Madi wasreallyworried about that, she wouldn’t have sent me today. She has no reason to worry aboutme.” I stop right in front of her. “Are you saying she has reason to worry aboutyou?”
She puts a finger on my chest and pushes me backward. “No, Casanova. That’s not what I’m saying.”
I grin and clap my hands together. “Great. So, what can I do?”
3
SIENA
SEVEN YEARS AGO
Holding up my handheld mirror,I turn so I can see the reflection of the back of my head, smoothing my hair to ensure my clip-in extensions are covered. What can I say? Not all of us are blessed with the hair from a L’Oréal commercial like my new dormmate.
I send a quick glance in her direction as she sets a camera lens inside her bag and tucks a massive lock of light brown hair behind her ear.
I snap the compact shut and set it on the bathroom counter. Envy isn’t a good look on anyone. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
“I do,” she says, “but if I’m serious about getting into the photography program, I really shouldn’t miss this club meeting.”
“Right. Politics and all that. I get it.” I grab my lip stain from the drawer. “Sounds like you’ve got academic responsibility covered for tonight, so I’ll volunteer to take on the delicate task of fostering our social lives.”
“Super generous of you,” she says with an amused smile.
I wave her words away. “Don’t mention it.”
After hearing horror stories from my two older brothers, I obviously lucked out in the freshman roommate department. It’s only been a week since the start of the semester, but I really like Madi. She’s good people.
“I don’t know what kind of ragers the photography clubs are throwing these days,” I say as I apply lip stain on my way to the door, “but if you get home early, text me and I’ll tell you the address. It’s only a five-minute walk.”
“For sure.”
The sound of collegiate merrymaking meets my ears when I’m still two doors away from my destination. After five days of classes and homework, the sound acts like a homing device, and my heart rate kicks up a notch or two. Not every person would show up to a party where they don’t know anyone, butthat’show desperate I was when the girl behind me in World Civ told me about it. And when she mentioned it was being hosted by a junior?Say no more, girl with Princess Leia buns!I’ve had enough of immature boys. I’m leveling up.
My heartbeat is through the roof as I knock on the door, but I’ve learned how to give off the vibe that I’m cool and confident. Confidence—even the fake-it-til-you-make-it kind—does wonders in life. The knock is just a formality, though; there’s no way anyone will hear the sound with how loud it is, so I turn the knob and open the door as if the next thing out of my mouth will be “Honey, I’m home!”
There are people grouped and paired off in the entry and living room, laughing and whispering as a heavy beat rumbles in the background. I suck in a slow breath through my nose, smiling with satisfaction.
Shockingly, no one has noticed me yet, despite these glamorous, off-brand extensions I’m wearing. That’s probably because every girl in sight isalsowearing extensions. I make my way through small groups, my gaze peeled for wherever people are getting their drinks. Why is it so much easier to feel relaxed when my hands are occupied?
I spot a few different types of alcohol as my eyes roam the room, and I land on the thing I’m looking for: someone holding a can of soda.
