Page 17 of Last Christmas (Private 0.60)
"Emma Bovary?" Noelle held a shimmering bronze minidress in front of her and pursed her lips at the full-
length mirror on the closet door. "You mean that sophomore slut who slept with Gage after finals last year?
Because he felt a burning sensation after he was with her, but I can guarantee you it wasn't desire." "That was
Emma Benning," Ariana corrected, forcing herself to look away from the photograph. "I'm talking about
Emma Bovary as in Madame Bovary." She waved her worn copy of the novel in the air. "As in, the tragic
heroine of one of the most celebrated and controversial French novels of all time. We're reading it in Mr.
Holmes's lit class, and we have a paper due before break."
Noelle yawned and glanced at the glowing alarm clock next to her silk-covered bed. "You just spent two
minutes telling me a story about a depressed Frenchwoman who can't even get her husband to screw her?"
She crossed her arms over her cream cashmere V- neck. "That's one hundred and twenty seconds of my life
I'll never get back," she chided, throwing the dress into her suitcase. "So I'll be taking those Michael Kors
boots with me as reimbursement."
Ariana didn't even bother to argue as Noelle shoved the boots into her bag. If she decided she really cared that
much, she would simply sneak in there later tonight when Noelle was in deep - sleep mode and take them
back. It was their way.
"It's actually an incredible book," Ariana sighed, lowering the book to her lap. "But this paper is incredibly
bad." She drummed her fingers on the desk and deleted the last sentence she'd written. "It's only supposed to
be a few pages, but I can't concentrate long enough to write a coherent sentence."
"Please. You know that Holmes will give you an A anyway. All you need to pass his class is a decent ass,"
Noelle said. She tilted her head, checking out Ariana's butt. "That's at least a B-plus." "Thanks a lot." Ariana
rolled her eyes. "What's wrong? Worrying about the trip?" Noelle sat on her suitcase and tugged at the zipper.
It didn't move. "A little," Ariana admitted. Of course Noelle knew. Noelle always knew. It was almost like
she had a
sixth sense for gossip and other peoples' insecurities.
"Nervous about meeting the parents? I hear they're a little stuffy, but fine." She leaned over and brushed a
piece of lint from her black patent leather Louboutins, her dark hair falling like a curtain over her face. "At
least Daniel invited you. Dash's parents would never let me horn in on their holiday plans. God forbid a
McCafferty holiday photograph ever differed one iota from the year before. I shudder to think what'll happen
when grandkids come along. They'll probably have a kids' photo and an adults' photo. I mean, really. Would
it be that big a deal to have one extra person hanging around?"
