Page 102 of Crew Princess
“Thanks?”
She started laughing. “You hate it, don’t you?”
I lifted a shoulder, moving to my closet. I grabbed a clutch. Taz said we had to have clutches. And they had to match. I looked at mine. It was black. My dress was white and a soft shade of pink.
My clutch didn’t match.
Taz was going to have a breakdown.
“Bren?” Heather moved closer, her voice quiet.
The clutch was supposed to match.
Why didn’t I do this stuff ahead of time? How hard was that?
Dresses. Purses. Even fucking bracelets. Makeup. None of that was natural to me. I knew I was pretty, or pretty enough. No one made fun of how I looked. And Cross loved me. He wasn’t a shallow kind of guy, but would he love me if I was ugly?
Taz. Sunday. Tabatha. I knew those girls would be all decked out. Dresses that molded perfectly to their bodies. Their hair was always good, but I knew they’d be masterpieces tonight. They understood mani-pedis and blowouts. All that was second nature to them. And jewelry—who knew there were so many kinds of earrings.
I didn’t have my ears pierced.
“Bren.” Heather was right behind me now.
I knew it was coming. I was prepared, knowing she’d feel how tense I was.
When her hand touched my shoulder, a soft curse slipped out. “Oh, babe.”
I was crying. I’d felt tears coming all day, and I’d pushed them off.
Prom was a rite of passage, right? Not for me. This was a nightmare.
“Aren’t you supposed to learn about makeup, nails, the difference between flats and stilettos? Sisters. A mom. You learn that from them, don’t you?” I looked at her. “Where’d you learn that stuff?”
Heather was beautiful. Always had been. She had a sexy tomboy look to her, and she never seemed self-conscious. She was confident, strong as hell, and used her sex appeal like a weapon at times.
I grew up watching her, watching how she handled her brother, how she handled my brother, how she was a badass boss at her restaurant.
She hugged me, her lip trembling.
I’d never seen Heather’s lip tremble. Never. I never saw Heather cry, choke up. She wasn’t weak, not the way I was right now.
“Bren, hon.” She smoothed a gentle hand down my back, then picked at some strands and tucked them into my braid again.
I looked at my clutch. “I went to the Fallen Crest Spa this morning. The other girls all wore button-down shirts. Someone explained later they did that so they could take the shirt off and pull their dresses on and not mess up their hair.” I sighed. “I wore jeans and a tank top. A tight one. The hair stylist looked at me in horror, but I didn’t know. No one told me. I don’t do girly shit. Taz goes to the salon, and I go cave diving with the guys. That’s how I grew up.”
“Bren.”
I heard the tears in Heather’s voice. She hugged me once more, and tucked her head against my arm. “I lost my mom when I was young, too, but not as young as you. I don’t know who taught you about tampons, but I got my mom for a while longer. She did teach me some of that stuff. But I had Rose, Marie, Theresa. They worked when my dad still ran Manny’s, and those ladies were like second moms to me. Theytsked me if my pants were too tight, but that was my style. Just how I was. I don’t know why, but I never cared. Never bothered me, but you know what did bother me?”
I raised an eyebrow.
She smiled. “Fitting in. That’s something you’ve always had that I didn’t. Chan was in Roussou. I was in Fallen Crest. I never felt like I belonged in one place or the other, so I was kind of a loner. There were friends, acquaintances, but not a crew like yours. Then I hooked up with a good friend, she brought along a couple baddies, and somehow that evolved into years of friendship.”
I knew who she was referring to. “Now you’re going into business with them.”
“Yeah. And it’s going to work because everyone in our group loves the person first over the business. That’s the only way it’d work for us.”
I motioned around the room. “I didn’t know anything was wrong in here until Taz asked one day why I didn’t have any pictures. Guess that stuff is normal to other girls. I never knew.” I wasn’t making sense. “You’re—”
