Page 17 of Secret Puck
“Help!” a muffled voice calls from one of the bedrooms. A girl with hair the color of honey pulled up in curlers rushes out wearing a silky robe. “I don’t know what to wear.”
Dakota laughs. “This is Ginny. Ginny, that’s my neurotic but lovable roommate, Reagan.”
“Hey,” she says, breathless, cheeks pink.
“Green’s a good color on you,” I tell her and motion to the emerald color of her robe.
“She’s right. Put on that green dress with the crisscross back.”
Reagan smiles, deep dimples popping out. “Oh, right. I forgot about that one.” She disappears back into the room.
Dakota moves to the kitchen and I hang in the living room looking around.
“I like your apartment.” It’s decorated with lots of black and white with pops of dark pink. Old Hollywood movie posters and cute furniture. It’s a smaller version of my brother’s, but same basic setup with bedrooms on either side of the living area.
“Thanks,” she says, and I join her in the kitchen area. “Pick your poison.” A wide selection of alcohol is spread out on their kitchen counter. Wine—red and white, hard lemonade, vodka, Captain Morgan, and a bunch of mixers. I settle on half a cup of white wine. After all the mixing, I’m a little nervous to drink too much.
“So, you’re Adam Scott’s little sister?” she asks with a smirk once we both have a fresh drink.
“I am. Yeah. You know him?”
“Everyone knows him. He’s Adam Scott.”
Reagan reappears in green with her hair down, looking like she walked out of a salon. If I could make that sort of transformation in five minutes, I’d probably get dolled up more often.
“Do we have a winner?” Dakota asks.
Reagan holds her arms out to her sides. “I think so.”
“You look great.” I glance down at my jeans and tank top. I’m underdressed by comparison. Dakota’s in a skirt and T-shirt with tennis shoes, but her makeup and jewelry give it all a much more put-together look than my casual outfit. “Do you guys always dress up like this for parties?”
Dakota responds first. “This is my basic uniform, but that one” —she nods toward her roommate— “has her eye on a boy.”
Reagan makes a face at her but smiles.
“Oooooh. Someone at the party?” I ask. “One of the hockey guys?”
“Yeah.” She takes a seat next to me.
“She won’t say which one. I’ve got money on Liam. He’s got that nice guy vibe, but something about him screams that he’s probably not afraid to get down and dirty in the sheets.” Dakota pours white wine into a cup and hands it to Reagan.
“Liam? Really?” Reagan asks with a shake of her head. “He’s not my type. And I’m not saying who because I don’t want to jinx it.”
“Well, he’d be a fool to turn you down,” I tell her honestly. Reagan is the kind of pretty that you wish only existed on the pages of a magazine or on TV.
She takes the drink and sighs. “I’m nervous, which is ridiculous, right? Who gets nervous about going to a party where their crush is? It’s like junior high all over except without the zits and braces. Thank god. I’ve been trying to talk to this guy for… a long time. I get all weird and shy around him. Well, shier than normal.”
“You’re going to knock his socks off. Trust me.” Dakota says. “And if not, you get to come home to me.”
“Have you guys been roommates for a long time?” I ask. It’s easy to see how close they are. They tease, but it’s with a smile and none of the catty, fake compliments that some girls do to one another.
“Since our freshmen year in the dorms,” Reagan answers. “Dakota was all fast-talking and no-nonsense, and I think I spent half of first semester completely terrified of her.”
Dakota laughs. “It’s true. She said maybe three full sentences until she saw me crying overThe Notebook.”
“She wassobbing.”
“Those old people get me every time.”
