Page 15

15

W hy was I like this? I’d been one hundred percent on board when I’d told Reece to meet me after his game, but as the week progressed, nerves got the better of me. Reece was a busy guy. He texted me at least once a day, often more, but I hadn’t seen him since he’d had me shuddering on his couch.

Instead of focusing on the secondary ed group project worth a large percentage of my grade, I was wading through piles of clothes looking for the right outfit for a delayed booty call with my fake boyfriend.

I wasn’t even sure if Avery or Marco would be there, so I could be sitting by myself trying not to fidget for the entire game. What if I did something embarrassing and reflected poorly on Reece? The entire school was talking about our relationship, and I didn’t want to make anything worse.

A second later, I realized what I’d just told myself. I’d fallen back into an old habit of always assuming my presence was an extension of my boyfriend. Fake or not, he’d made it clear my actions were my own, and I should do what made me happy.

I flopped back on my bed, clothes and all. Screw Toby and his bullshit. He wasn’t allowed to poison my thoughts anymore. Every time I relapsed I’d simply replace the bad thought with an image of Reece smiling at me. Naturally, I could never tell him, or he’d become impossible to deal with.

He hadn’t seen my list yet, despite helping me with a few ideas, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to show it to him. The hesitation made me think I should. I’d made it in the Notes app on my phone, so it came with me everywhere anyway. Still, the idea made my heart race. Why was I nervous? He wouldn’t judge me, though he’d probably make a joke about my sheltered upbringing.

I was surprised to find out Reece was funny… and thoughtful, and generous, and really, really hot. At some point, I should probably thank Amanda for forcing my hand with him. If for nothing else than giving me the opportunity to find out for myself that not all hockey players sucked.

Amanda had been suspiciously quiet lately, and her behavior was making me antsy. I’d gotten used to the constant barrage of insults and subtle manipulation. My sorority sisters weren’t breaking my door down to be besties, but they’d stopped leaving the room when I walked into it.

A girl could only take so much abuse. I gladly accepted their indifference instead.

A knock pulled me from my musing, and I idly wondered if I’d summoned Amanda by thinking about her like some kind of demon. When I pulled the door open, my perfect older sister stood in the doorway in a beautiful yellow sundress which matched the perfect understated makeup on her perfect face. She held a garment bag in one hand and an iced coffee in the other.

I frowned, not excited about dealing with my inferiority complex right before a date. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s how you greet visitors? Mom would be so disappointed.”

“What’s new?” I muttered, waving her inside.

She gingerly stepped past the threshold on sensible nude heels and held out the coffee to me. “Here. Sorry I didn’t call first, but I wasn’t sure you’d answer. Mom says you’ve been avoiding her calls.”

I snatched the clear plastic cup and took a long draw from the straw. Sugar and caffeine hit me in a glorious coconut-flavored rush. Brighton and I might not understand each other, but she was still my sister who loved me enough to bring me my favorite iced coffee in the middle of a Friday.

“That’s because she keeps calling about Toby. Thanks for the coffee.”

She lifted one delicate shoulder. “Not a big deal. I brought your bridesmaid dress.”

“You didn’t have to drive all the way down here. I was going to grab it the next time I had dinner at home.”

Brighton raised one brow. “Were you?”

“Yes,” I lied.

I turned away to suck down more coffee before she could read the truth on my face. While I would definitely have grabbed the dress, I had no intention of seeing Mom for dinner.

“Well, I saved you a trip. Can you please try it on so we can be sure it fits this time?”

“Sure, I didn’t have anything else to do.” My sarcasm flew right over her head, or maybe she deemed it too unimportant to acknowledge.

“You usually don’t.” She handed me the garment bag and wandered to my bed.

“ Hey ,” I protested. “I have a busy and fulfilling life.”

“I wasn’t sure.” She met my eyes with a half-smile. “Dad seems to think you’re pining, but according to Toby and Mom, you’re making reckless decisions that could affect Toby’s future.”

I rolled my eyes and hung the dress on my closet door. “Yes, let’s focus on Toby’s future.”

She cocked her head, confused. “That was always the focus before, and you never had a problem with it. I don’t know where this sudden contentious streak came from, but make sure you keep it under control at the wedding. I want things to go smoothly.”

The reminder had me biting my tongue. It was her wedding. Of course she wanted things to go smoothly. No bride hoped for challenges and disappointment on the big day. It sucked she thought I’d be the source of wedding day issues—I’d literally never caused a single problem before breaking up with Toby—but I expected the blame at this point.

Brighton shook her head as she surveyed the mess in my room. “How do you live like this?”

“There’s a method to my chaos.”

“Oh really?” She waved at the bed. “What’s the method here?”

I started scooping clothes into a pile on the floor. “Visually compare outfits for my date tonight.”

She lifted a pair of ratty blue sweats from the top of the pile. “This is what you consider date clothes? Now I’m concerned for another reason.”

“How about if I just try on the dress and we don’t discuss your concerns.” I grabbed the garment bag and carried it into the bathroom with me.

Brighton raised her voice to be heard through the door. “We need to talk about your date situation.”

Here it came. Brighton would side with Mom, and I’d have to fight to not be assigned the role of arm candy for my cheating ex. I didn’t want to miss her wedding, but I wasn’t sure I could handle an entire day of being dismissed in favor of Toby.

“What about my date situation?” I was proud my voice came out calm despite the panicked urge I was fighting to run away from the entire situation.

The springs of my bed squeaked as she sat down. “I don’t know the details of what happened between you and Toby, but I understand you want to bring your new boyfriend to the wedding.”

I struggled with opening the garment bag, feeling like my fingers had turned into sausages. Disobedient sausages that couldn’t work a freaking zipper. When I got it open, I tugged the dress out and slipped it over my head without paying too much attention.

“I don’t want to be paired up with Toby as if nothing has changed. Bringing Reece will be fun for me, and it might finally convince Mom to stop.”

She laughed. “It’ll take more than another hockey player to force Mom to give up her grand plan of marrying you off to her best friend’s son.”

“Why is she so obsessed with the idea?”

“She doesn’t have another option. In two short months, I’ll be Mrs. Allen Thompson. You’re her last hope.”

What about my hopes? I wanted to throw the question at her, but Brighton wouldn’t understand. She was living the life she wanted. It simply happened to coincide with the life Mom wanted for her. With a defeated sigh, I adjusted the material of the dress and turned to face the mirror.

The sight stole my breath. And I could breathe. Brighton had chosen a dress that flowed when I moved and didn’t try to mold me into a distinct shape. For once, I was glad she’d nailed her goal.

The ombre green color went from a pale sage at the top to a deep forest at the bottom. A sheer layer of gold sparkles started off sparse up by my chest and became an explosion of glitter by my feet. The A-line skirt nipped in at my waist, then gathered over my bodice to one shoulder.

I spun in a slow circle watching in the mirror as the light caught on the hem. This dress was fun and beautiful, and it fit me perfectly. It was also perfect for her Christmas wedding.

Brighton had gone with an elegant farmhouse theme, like something from one of those renovation shows. Cozy meets upper class. Mostly green and white with lots of textures like wood and fur and sweaters.

Her husband had contributed zero input, and I’d purposely kept myself away from the planning too so I hadn’t seen the dress before. I’d thought it wasn’t my style, but moreso, my opinion tended to not matter in my family. If I didn’t like it, too bad. Brighton, on the other hand, had no problem making her decisions stick. I tried not to let the discrepancy ruin my relationship with my sister.

When I came out, she clapped her hands together, and a real smile transformed her face. “Oh Kenz, you’re beautiful.”

The raw response went a long way toward easing my resentment. Brighton was oblivious to my struggles, but she genuinely wanted me at her wedding.

“Thanks. It’s a wonderful choice.”

“Perfect. Okay, back into the garment bag. Do you want me to bring it to Mom’s or are you going to hold onto it here?” The tone said she thought I should let Mom keep it, but I was feeling weirdly possessive.

“No, I’ll keep it here. Don’t worry. It’ll be safe from my mess.”

She nodded. “About your date to the wedding…”

I’d hoped she’d let the conversation go, but no such luck. “I want to bring Reece. For a bunch of reasons, but number one because he makes me feel good in a way Toby never did.”

Brighton searched my face then sighed. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Toby, but you do seem happier now. Bring your boyfriend. I’ll talk to Mom.”

I risked the dress to lean down and hug her. Brighton tensed for a second, then awkwardly patted my back. We weren’t an affectionate family under normal circumstances, so she was most likely uncomfortable with my show of affection. I let her go and ignored the tiny sigh of relief she let out.

Brighton stood and nodded at Reece’s jersey, which I’d laid carefully over my desk. “If your date tonight includes your boyfriend’s hockey game, wear the jersey and black leggings with your heeled booties.”

“Yeah, but what do I wear under it?”

She raised a brow. “Nothing.”

My mouth dropped open in shock, and she gave me a smug little smile before walking out of my room. For the first time, I admitted there might be a side to Brighton I didn’t know. She was three years older, and she’d gone to a community college instead of Easton like Mom. The only point of contention between the two of them. I’d been so focused on trying to live up to Mom’s expectations in high school, I hadn’t paid much attention to my perfect older sister.

I swished the dress one more time, then returned to the bathroom to change. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d been self-absorbed.