Page 64 of Hard Rock Deceit
She dragged me to one of the large bathrooms, lugging her suitcase behind her. Shutting the bathroom door behind us, she turned to me, eyessparkling.
"So. You andAugust?"
ChapterNineteen
Ilet out a half-cough,half-squeak as Hope guessed the one thing I'd wanted to keepsecret.
Shelaughed.
"It's okay. I won't tell anyone if you don't wantmeto."
"Are we thatobvious?"
"If you don't want the others to find out you and August are together, you don't have to worry. Men areoblivious."
"Thanks," Imuttered.
"Am I right by guessing you don't have any clubclothes?"
"Do leggings and baggy shirtscount?"
"You look about my size," Hope said, eyeing my chest and hips. "I'm sure we can find yousomething."
Ten minutes later I was wearing what Hope calledseven-dresses-in-one.
"It's my go-to outfit," she explained. "The skirt can be worn long or short and the top can be as low cut asyouwant."
I looked down. The top certainly was low cut, showing off my cleavage in aspectacularway.
"This thing makes my boobs like huge." I turned and examined how close to my butt the hemline stopped. "And my legs look like they go onforever."
"That's the magic of thisdress."
Hope put on a short black skirt and a shimmery halter top. Neither of the two of us looked scandalous. Our important bits were covered in all the right places. Still, the outfits accentuated our naturalassets.
"What do you usually do with your hair?" Hope asked. She had just finished putting hers up into a highponytail.
I touched the loose strands falling around my face self-consciously.
"Um.This?"
"How about an updo?" she suggested. "The club can get really hot. The last thing you want is sweaty hair sticking to the back ofyourneck."
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I let Hope mess around withmyhead.
"I feel like Sandy inGrease,"Isaid.
"Hm, it's more like theBreakfastClub." Hope absent-mindedly poked another bobby pin through my hair. "We're not turning the good girl bad, we're turning theweirdgirl—"
Hope cut herself off with a chokedcough.
"Not that you're weird!" she hurried to say. "Just that, you know, you're the artsy type, is all. I'm sorry," she flushed. "I didn't mean toinsultyou."
I laughed at the horrified expression on her face reflected in themirror.
"It's okay. I've been called a lot worse things thanweird."
The flush on Hope's face slowly went away as she put the finishing touches on my hair, parts of it braided and twisted and pinned to the back of my head. I stood in front of themirror.
