Page 126 of Fake As Puck
“I’m not,” I argue. Deep down, I’m not sure how West and I are going to make this work, so I’d like to avoid this conversation altogether.
“Liv, you spent twenty minutes at Target yesterday staring at lip glosses. You’re absolutely trying to make him lose his mind.”
“You have no idea how long I was looking at the lip glosses, Tessa.”
She nods. “You were texting me pictures asking which one looked more natural. Just try on the dress,” she says.
“Fine.”
Five minutes later, I’m standing in front of a three-way mirror wearing the green dress, and even I have to admit it looks good.
Really good.
“Holy shit,” Tessa breathes. “You look incredible.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, looking at myself in the reflection.
“That’s not just a dress. It’s a weapon. My brother is going to take one look at you and realize he’s been an idiot for not locking this down already.”
“Tessa,” I warn.
“What?” she says, confused. “He needs to get his head out of his ass and just ask you out already. Like seriously, Liv, what is he waiting for?”
I hide my annoyance by looking at the dress.
“I’m being a good sister. And a good friend. And someone who’s tired of watching you two dance around each other when you’re clearly crazy about one another.”
“We’re not dancing around each other.”
“You absolutely are. You’re like two people who want to hold hands but are too scared to reach for each other.”
“That’s very poetic.”
“It’s very accurate.”
Then, we hit the salon for the full treatment. Nails first, then facials, then haircuts.
“I want something different,” I tell the stylist. “Not too different, but... different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Just... better.”
“You want to look like the kind of woman who doesn’t need anyone but definitely has someone worth having,” Tessa translates.
“That’s odd of you to say,” I tease.
“That’s exactly what you want.”
She’s not wrong.
Two hours later, I have nails that make my hands look elegant instead of like I bite them when I’m nervous, skin that’s glowing like I’ve been drinking expensive water and sleeping eight hours a night, and hair that’s been trimmed and styled in a way that makes me look like a more polished version of myself.
“You look amazing,” Tessa says, admiring the results.
“I feel amazing.”
We’re getting our nails done when she brings up the topic I’ve been dreading.
