Page 4 of To Her

Haley tugged at my hair a little harder than necessary. "Would it kill you to be optimistic for once? It's been two months since the Ben disaster. You can't hide in this house forever."

The mention of Ben's name still sent an uncomfortable jolt through me. Two months wasn't nearly enough time to forget walking out of his apartment in my pyjamas, barefoot and broken-hearted. Or the three weeks of him blowing up my phone afterward, alternating between apologies and accusations.

I'm sorry, baby, it was a mistake. It didn't mean anything.

You're overreacting. It was just sex.

You're crazy, you know that? Breaking my phone? You need help.

I'd blocked his number eventually, but sometimes I still caught myself checking to see if he'd found another way to contact me. The last I'd heard, he and Jess were officially dating. Good for them. I hoped they'd be very happy together until he inevitably cheated on her too.

"I'm not hiding," I said, reaching for the glass of champagne on the vanity. "I'm regrouping."

"In my parents' guest room," Haley pointed out.

"In your parents' mansion," I corrected her. "There's a difference."

And what a mansion it was. Five bedrooms, six bathrooms, a pool that overlooked the ocean, and enough square footage that the three of us could go entire days without running into each other if we wanted to. The kitchen alone was bigger than most apartments, with marble countertops and appliances that looked like they belonged in a restaurant. The living room featured floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Pacific like a living painting.

Haley's parents had "downsized" to a beachfront condo two towns over, leaving their daughter and her two best friends to house-sit indefinitely. It was the kind of ridiculous privilege that only old money could afford, but I wasn't about to complain. Not when the alternative was moving back in with my father and enduring his daily reminders that I'd be settled by now if I'd just followed his plan for my life.

Business school, Geraldine. A proper career. Not this... skin therapy nonsense.

I took another sip of champagne, letting the bubbles wash away the echo of my father's disappointment.

"There," Haley said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "You look hot. Ben would eat his heart out if he saw you."

"That's not the goal," I lied, examining my reflection. She wasn't wrong, though. My long black hair was artfully arranged in a way that looked effortlessly tousled while still showing off the multiple piercings along my ear. The dark makeup around my eyes made the brown irises look almost black, intense against my pale skin. The cherry blossom tattoo peeked out from beneath the strap of my dress, a splash of delicate pink against my shoulder.

The red dress I'd splurged on—one month's tips from the restaurant where I'd picked up waitressing shifts—hugged every curve. It was shorter than I usually wore, with a neckline that dipped just low enough to be interesting without veering into desperate territory. The fabric caught the light when I moved, shimmering slightly.

"The goal," Anna said, finally selecting a pair of dangling silver earrings, "is to have fun. To dance. To drink expensive champagne that Jake's parents are providing. And maybe, just maybe, to kiss someone hot at midnight."

Anna was the peacemaker of our trio—always finding the middle ground between Haley's relentless optimism and my cynicism. Tonight she looked like a disco ball personified in her silver sequined top and white jeans so tight they might have been painted on. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders, the product of an expensive blowout earlier that day.

"Exactly," Haley agreed, moving on to her own hair. "No pressure. If you hate Matt, you never have to see him again. But at least give the guy a chance before you write him off."

Haley, in contrast to both of us, had gone for classic elegance—a black dress that skimmed her curves, her dark hair pulledback in a sleek ponytail, red lipstick the only pop of colour. She looked like she'd stepped out of a vintage Hollywood film.

I sighed, reaching for the bottle to refill my glass. We'd been pregaming for the past hour, and the champagne was doing its job, softening the edges of my perpetual wariness. "Fine. But if he starts talking about push-ups or protein powder or whatever, I'm out."

"Deal." Haley grinned triumphantly. "Now help me decide—hair up or down?"

"Down," Anna and I said in unison.

"You always say down," Haley complained, but she was already pulling the elastic from her ponytail.

"Because it always looks better down," I replied, standing up to stretch. My feet were already protesting the four-inch heels I'd chosen, but beauty is pain, or so they say. "Where is this party again?"

"Jake's parents' beach house," Anna said, applying another coat of lip gloss. "About twenty minutes from here."

"Another mansion?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"More like a really nice vacation home," Haley clarified. "But yes, it's gorgeous. Right on the water, with a deck that wraps around the whole house. That's where they'll do the fireworks at midnight."

I tried to picture it—standing on a deck overlooking the ocean, the sky exploding with colour as the clock struck twelve. Would I be alone? Would this Matt person be beside me? Would he try to kiss me?

The thought sent an unexpected flutter through my stomach. It had been two months since I'd kissed anyone. Two months since I'd felt desired. Two months of rebuilding the walls Ben had managed to break through, only to prove they hadn't been high enough in the first place.

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