Page 74 of Tell Me It’s Right

At least my makeup isn’t as in-your-face as the literal American flag she has painted on her cheek. A pop of blue eyeshadow sits in the inner corners and along my lash line, and she filled in the rest of the space with glitter and tiny white stars.

Beyond that, my skin hasneverlooked this flawless and glowy when I do my makeup. I twist and turn to inspect her work from all angles.

“You’re a magician.”

She beams in the mirror behind me, then claps her hands on my shoulders.

“Come on, get changed. I want to get there before the hot dogs get cold. I heard they’ll have veggie dogs too!” she calls before disappearing into her closet.

I pull on my trusty red tube top from college and the pair of denim shorts she’s letting me borrow—covered in white stars and white fringe hanging off the front pockets, naturally. Carson opts for a red, white, and blue bikini and sheer beach cover-up, then hooks her arm through mine and leads us downstairs.

The Fourth has always been a big holiday around here—mostly because it’s one of the few holidays in the summer so it’s a good excuse for a beach party—but it’s never really been my thing. This year feels different though. Carson’s excitement is contagious, and I’ll take any distraction I can get right now.

The shop is closed for the long weekend, which means it’s been days.

And I still haven’t talked to Liam other than finally responding to say I needed some time. Days have passed, but I’m no closer to having a response than I was the moment it happened. Just giving him the silent treatment until I figured it out seemed cruel though.

The day is already in full swing when we arrive, loud enough to hear even when we’re several blocks away. Upbeat music from a live band carries over the sea of people, umbrellas, and barbeque. The party stretches from the boardwalk to the beach and every little nook and cranny it can squeeze into. It sounds like the parade is going on in the distance too. I tighten my grip on Carson so I don’t lose her in the crowds.

Not that she makes it easy on me. She is a woman on a mission, swerving in and out of people trying to find the best line to get a hot dog. By the smell of it, there’s no shortage of them.

The sun is really beating down today. I shade my eyes with my hand as we find a spot in line. Carson fills me in on all her work gossip as we wait—one of the dancers is pregnant, a regularcustomer’s wife came storming in and dragged him out, a new girl started working there and she’s been teaching them all tricks that no one’s ever seen before…

“Oh, wait, didn’t I hear you and Miles Cushing went on a date?Whyare you letting me blabber on instead of giving me the details!”

My stomach dips, but in no small act of grace, we reach the front of the line, and I give the worker a probably too enthusiastic smile. “One beef and one veggie, please.” I wave Carson off when she reaches for her wallet and hand over a bill. “Consider it payment for your makeup services,” I say with a shrug.

We pivot for the beach once our hot dogs are sufficiently coated in ketchup and mustard, and she gives me a little smirk as we pause to slip off our flipflops.

“Soooo. Miles?”

I grimace, but I should’ve known better that she wouldn’t drop it. The more I evade it, the more she’ll want to know. Better to make it sound boring so she’ll move on.

“Nothing worth talking about, I’m afraid. Bad date. Won’t see him again.”

“Ugh.” She hooks her arm through mine. “I should’ve known. He’s too hot. It’s like once you pass a certain threshold of hotness, they become too insufferable to date.”

I hum noncommittally.

“Oh, there they are!” She points to her group of friends already camped out on towels under a row of umbrellas, a cooler sandwiched in the sand between them.

“Hey, all!” Raquel waves over her head. I almost didn’t recognize her with the oversize sunglasses and floppy hat. Judging by the way her skin already looks tanned to a crisp, they’ve been out here awhile.

The three other girls smile and say hello—I think two were at the party a while ago, but I can’t remember any names—as Carson fishes our towels out of her bag and starts setting up. Her other roommate, Luna, is noticeably absent.

“We were thinking of hitting up the High Dive,” says one of the girls. “They’re doing two-dollar red, white, and blue shooters until sunset.”

“Only if someone cuts Mina off,” says Carson. “I don’t want a repeat of last year.”

The girl on the far end scoffs. I do a double take when I notice the tattoos covering her leg that are obviously still healing. She throws a towel over it as she readjusts herself to shade it from the sun. That style… I thought her name sounded familiar. She was Liam’s client.

Liam.

Even thinking his name has my stomach churning.

“I washed your clothes for you,” Mina says.

“What about the memory of getting puked on, huh? Who’s going to wash that out of my brain?”

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