Page 93 of Rebel Romeo

Or burn it as Jill suggested.

With a sigh, I grab the black bridesmaid dress I wore for my sister’s wedding. It’s either that or my prom dress and something tells me that even though it’s way more formal, the department store clearance rack special probably won’t turn any heads at a party like this.

Mallory’s bridesmaid dress on the other hand is pretty enough. Simple, classic, black. I shimmy into it and tug at the zipper. It still fits even though it had been tailored to my body a few years ago when I was several pounds lighter.

Back then it fit loosely around my breasts and draped over my hips. Now, it hugs every curve I have, the seams straining against my bigger boobs and wider hips. Even still, it would have to do because I have no other options.

I move to my dresser where there’s a mirror hanging above it and touch up my makeup and hair, pausing as Holden’s journal taunts me. I drag my fingers over the textured cover to the composition notebook, emotion rising up my throat.

As painful as it is reading his innermost thoughts about the hardest, worst year of my life, I can’t deny he was right about one thing: the insight is helping my performance. I don’t have to agree with his reasons for doing what he did…

I just have to be able to understand, humanize, internalize them and mimic them on the stage.

Oh, is that all?

With a sigh, I tuck the notebook back into the drawer of my nightstand. Just as I’m heading down the hall to grab my purse, Jill comes in the front door, slamming it behind her with a frustrated grunt. I haven’t seen her much since we caught Nolan with Missy but she stops dead in her tracks when she sees me standing there in the hall.

“Jill. Are… are you okay?”

She blows out a breath that makes a curl on her forehead lift. “I really wish everyone would stop asking me that,” she mutters and pushes past me to go into her bedroom.

“Sorry,” I say as she shoulders past me, bumping me just hard enough that I lose my balance in the heels I’m wearing. Something about her hostile shoulder check shakes my anger loose. Fuming, I follow her into her bedroom, snapping out my hand to stop her door from closing in my face. “Actually, I’m not sorry,” I say.

Inside her bedroom, her cat, Junie, yawns and gives a lazy stretch as we disturb her slumber.

Jill’s brows lift. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not going to apologize for checking in on you. In the billions of times Holden broke my heart, you checked in on me every time, so believe me, I understand the tactic of lashing out against your bestie. But you didn’t let me get away with it then and I’m not going to let you get away with it now. I’m sorry you’re hurting… but I’m not the one who hurt you.” Despite the stony look on Jill’s face, I step forward and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “Nolan sucks. And Missy sucks. But you’re awesome. He has no idea what he’s missing.”

Finally, Jill sags against me, wrapping her arms around my waist with a sigh. “Holden sucks, too,” she says through a sniffle.

At our feet, Junie does figure eights, joining in on the hug in her own cat-like way.

I chuckle and turn my face so my cheek rests on Jill’s shoulder. “Tell me about it. But just so you know, Curt sucks the most. Please don’t go back to him for rebound sex.”

I feel Jill bouncing in my arms with her laughter. “No promises.”

I groan. “Please tell me you haven’t already?—”

“No, no.” She shakes her head and pulls back from our hug, wiping at her leaky eyes. “I just can’t exactly be trusted to make wise decisions when I’m heartbroken.”

“Well, I think that goes for all of us. Hey!” I say. “Why don’t I make us some London Fog lattes and we can have a marathon movie session of all those cheesy Hallmark movies you love.”

Jill’s gaze scoops down my dress to my heeled shoes. “You did not get that dressed up to have London Fogs with me at home tonight.”

I shrug and kick off my heels. “But we haven’t had a girls night, just the two of us, in forever.”

Jill bends over and practically shoves my feet back into the shoes like some sort of fractured fairy tale Cinderella. “I am not going to be the reason you miss out on whatever thing is happening tonight. Especially since you don’t do this—” she pauses to gesture at me—my hair, my makeup, my dress— “very often.”

I place my hands to my hips. “I think I should be offended by that.”

“Don’t be. You look just as hot in jeans and a Care Bear t-shirt, but since this look is an anomaly, it shouldn’t be wasted. Go.” She jerks her head to the door. “Seriously. I’ll still be here wallowing when you turn into a pumpkin and come home. I’ll probably be wallowing all week. We can do London Fog movie night tomorrow.”

“You promise?” I hold out my pinky for her.

She hooks hers into mine. “I promise.”

I leave Jill there in her bedroom, but on my way out the door, I stop in our kitchen to brew her a pot of our favorite spiced chocolate tea and leave the pot outside of her door on a tray.

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