voice.
Rose and Poppy laugh, although Rose’s dies out rather
quickly. She rubs her eyes and groans.
Normally, I’d be excited right now, wondering what face will
greet me once we arrive at the event. But I’ve been trying to forget what it
feels like to climax, the tingling of my body—the sensation of masculine, hard
hands sliding along my skin. And I’m afraid once I see a guy, willing and
wanting, I’ll take the opportunity and jump. Without thinking. Without breathing.
I’ll just do it and ruin the one good thing in my life.
Rose lets out another long groan.
I have to ask. “What happened with Connor?”
“I thought everything was fine,” Poppy says.
Rose wedges the bottle between her bony knees. “When I’m
with him, I roll my eyes so much I feel like they’re going to fall out of my
face.” She talks with her hands—so unlike Rose, that I scoot forward on my seat
to be closer to her. Rose gestures to her body, trying to express herself, but
she looks like she’s swatting the air instead.
I reach out and hold her hand. Rose calms a little. “I can’t
believe she’s doing this after I asked her not to.”
“It’ll be okay,” I say, but the words coming from me only
worsen the look on her face.
“Did Connor want to break up?” Poppy wonders.
“I don’t know. When we fight, we both talk about it all the
time…”
I interject. “Yeah, but you two break up in strange ways.
Last month, I heard Connor say something like, ‘Sadie never disagrees with me.’
And you said, ‘If you want a doormat for a girlfriend, then your cat is
perfect. Have a happy life together.’ Then you slammed the door to your
bedroom, and he stormed out of the house, smiling .”
It was all really weird, and Rose ended up walking back into
his arms the next day, not admitting defeat exactly, but I think Connor would
count it as a success.
“Is this time different?” Poppy wonders.
Rose blinks in confusion, wracking her brain. “I don’t know.
I guess not. He told me that I was being inane about something. I can’t even
remember what, but we both split at the restaurant. We rode in separate cabs
home, and we haven’t talked since.” Realization hits her, and she collapses
back against the seat. “ God , what am
I doing? I feel like I’m in prep school when I’m with him sometimes. It drives
me crazy.”
I open my mouth, so tempted to sing the Britney Spears song
again.
Rose shoots me a look. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
I laugh instead, and it takes a long moment for Rose to join
in. She puts the bottle to her lips, swigging one last time just as the limo
rolls to a stop.
Here we go.
{4}
Assigned seating. I curse you.
Fifty tables fill the grand ballroom, and my mother wedged
us near the front under the brightest lamp. Not only do we have to endure our
dates, but we have to do so under the scalding heat of a spotlight. While we
wait for the guys to find us, I play with the glittery napkin ring on my plate
and try not to anxiously scratch my arms.
My mother’s party planner had too much fun with the black
and gold decorations. A black sparkler centerpiece fits in the center of every
gold clothed table. Photos of gold Fizz cans with black carbonation bubbles are
framed along the walls. Diet Fizz is the reverse color scheme with black cans
and gold bubbles.
At least Fizzle’s logo isn’t lime green and puke pink—two
colors that would induce an instant migraine. Still, you think she could have
branched out a little bit. Maybe added a splash of blue or red. But no, those
are Coca-Cola and Pepsi’s colors. No Fizzle-loving person would dare touch
them.
I’m going stir-crazy waiting for our dates, but at least
Rose and Daisy sit next to me, not allowing any room for a guy to settle near
me. I also choose not to glance around for them like Rose, who scans the floor
trying to speculate who the hell our mother invited to be our arm candy.
Anyway, too many people mill about the ballroom
Rose and Poppy laugh, although Rose’s dies out rather
quickly. She rubs her eyes and groans.
Normally, I’d be excited right now, wondering what face will
greet me once we arrive at the event. But I’ve been trying to forget what it
feels like to climax, the tingling of my body—the sensation of masculine, hard
hands sliding along my skin. And I’m afraid once I see a guy, willing and
wanting, I’ll take the opportunity and jump. Without thinking. Without breathing.
I’ll just do it and ruin the one good thing in my life.
Rose lets out another long groan.
I have to ask. “What happened with Connor?”
“I thought everything was fine,” Poppy says.
Rose wedges the bottle between her bony knees. “When I’m
with him, I roll my eyes so much I feel like they’re going to fall out of my
face.” She talks with her hands—so unlike Rose, that I scoot forward on my seat
to be closer to her. Rose gestures to her body, trying to express herself, but
she looks like she’s swatting the air instead.
I reach out and hold her hand. Rose calms a little. “I can’t
believe she’s doing this after I asked her not to.”
“It’ll be okay,” I say, but the words coming from me only
worsen the look on her face.
“Did Connor want to break up?” Poppy wonders.
“I don’t know. When we fight, we both talk about it all the
time…”
I interject. “Yeah, but you two break up in strange ways.
Last month, I heard Connor say something like, ‘Sadie never disagrees with me.’
And you said, ‘If you want a doormat for a girlfriend, then your cat is
perfect. Have a happy life together.’ Then you slammed the door to your
bedroom, and he stormed out of the house, smiling .”
It was all really weird, and Rose ended up walking back into
his arms the next day, not admitting defeat exactly, but I think Connor would
count it as a success.
“Is this time different?” Poppy wonders.
Rose blinks in confusion, wracking her brain. “I don’t know.
I guess not. He told me that I was being inane about something. I can’t even
remember what, but we both split at the restaurant. We rode in separate cabs
home, and we haven’t talked since.” Realization hits her, and she collapses
back against the seat. “ God , what am
I doing? I feel like I’m in prep school when I’m with him sometimes. It drives
me crazy.”
I open my mouth, so tempted to sing the Britney Spears song
again.
Rose shoots me a look. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
I laugh instead, and it takes a long moment for Rose to join
in. She puts the bottle to her lips, swigging one last time just as the limo
rolls to a stop.
Here we go.
{4}
Assigned seating. I curse you.
Fifty tables fill the grand ballroom, and my mother wedged
us near the front under the brightest lamp. Not only do we have to endure our
dates, but we have to do so under the scalding heat of a spotlight. While we
wait for the guys to find us, I play with the glittery napkin ring on my plate
and try not to anxiously scratch my arms.
My mother’s party planner had too much fun with the black
and gold decorations. A black sparkler centerpiece fits in the center of every
gold clothed table. Photos of gold Fizz cans with black carbonation bubbles are
framed along the walls. Diet Fizz is the reverse color scheme with black cans
and gold bubbles.
At least Fizzle’s logo isn’t lime green and puke pink—two
colors that would induce an instant migraine. Still, you think she could have
branched out a little bit. Maybe added a splash of blue or red. But no, those
are Coca-Cola and Pepsi’s colors. No Fizzle-loving person would dare touch
them.
I’m going stir-crazy waiting for our dates, but at least
Rose and Daisy sit next to me, not allowing any room for a guy to settle near
me. I also choose not to glance around for them like Rose, who scans the floor
trying to speculate who the hell our mother invited to be our arm candy.
Anyway, too many people mill about the ballroom
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