Page 75 of Curvy Love

Stella

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?” I ask.

“Babe, my parents are on a cruise around the Yucatan or somewhere. I don’t know. I swear they go on a cruise every other month. I’m beginning to think they’re actually mer-people and they’ve somehow managed to keep that fact from me and my brother all this time.”

My stomach tightens at the mention of my best friend’s brother. I am the worst sort of cliche. You know the one who crushes on her best friend’s hot brother? Even I roll my eyes against that because I have a brother, too. I had plenty of girls try to befriend me to get Sam’s attention. Of course he was clueless to their flirting. But now he’s happily married—ridiculously happy—so none of that other stuff matters.

And I digress.

Hazel sighs on the other end of the phone. “I should probably be asking you why you want to go to a dusty old lake house instead of one of the many parties I’m sure you’re invited to?”

“First off, your family’s lake house is neither dusty nor old,” I point out.

The Prescott family lake house is in the prestigious Apple Head neighborhood on Lake LBJ. It’s a neighborhood of multi-million dollar homes, owned by some of the richest families in the state. In the US, for that matter. While their house is far from the nicest or the newest, it’s a lot nicer than my family’s lake house.

Which, for the record, is completely imaginary.

The Prescott house is on the far end of the development. It’s not in the more exclusive cove, but out on the open lake. In the summer, there are boats passing by non-stop and the constant roar of jet skis. This time of year, you get some of that. After all, this is Texas, where the temperatures in January can range from low thirties all the way up to the mid-eighties. But on the colder weekends, like this one is, the lake settles down into quiet serenity.

This house holds all of my best memories from my teenage years: riding in inner-tubes behind the boat with Hazel on blistering August days, laying on the grass staring up at the stars, and the whole family wedged into the breakfast nook playing board games.

Which isn’t to say I don’t have great memories from my own home. I do. But my twin Sam and I had solidly lower-middle-class upbringing. We were never paycheck to paycheck, but we never had lake house money either.

When Hazel’s family moved into the area our junior year of high school, I found my person. I’d had close friends before, but Hazel and I have a bond that all the best girlfriend books are about. I mean if I got stung by a jellyfish, she would totally pee on my foot for me. She’s the keeper of my secrets… well, all except one. She’s just my person.

I never once resented that Hazel had more than I did growing up, because I know how hard my parents worked. And I know that her describing the lake house as “dusty and old” is just her way of minimizing the differences in our upbringing.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of Hazel snapping her fingers on the other end of the line.

“Earth to Stella,” she quips. “Don’t think you can just space out and pretend you can dodge my question.”

“What question?” I have genuinely forgotten what she asked.

“The why-you-want-to-be-alone-on-New-Years question.”

“Oh, that. It’s no big secret. I just don’t feel like people-ing this year. Christmas was like a couples’ haven and I just need a break from the relentless romantic happiness.”

“Ugh, that sounds terrible,” Hazel says. And she’s not even being ironic. She doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body. “If it’s bad enough that even you are sick of it, then that’s pretty horrible. All this to say, yes, go to the cabin, enjoy your solitude. I’d come with, but I’m swamped with work.”

“A lot of photo shoots this time of year?”

“Christmas presents and anniversary gifts and that sort of thing. I’ve got some new shoots, but I’m also editing. There was this one couple that I shot. You know I don’t do a lot of couples, but holy cow they were so fucking hot together. It was intense. I’ve actually been avoiding editing theirs because I’m concerned with how aroused they made me.”

I snort laugh. “You’re ridiculous. That’s a perfectly normal reaction which you would know if you bothered to read any of the books I’ve recommended you.”

I am constantly trying to force one of my romance novels on her, but she’s always resistant. I don’t know how I ended up with a best friend who is immune to both medieval knights and sexy blue aliens, but there it is.

“You like love, nothing wrong with that. I think I’m allergic to it.” Hazel swears loudly and then yells something I can’t make out.

“Where are you?”

“Driving through downtown. Stupid fuckers going the wrong way on a one-way street.”

“They’re probably just tourists. Be nice.”

“If we’re nice to them, they’ll just want to stay longer,” she grumbles. Then she sighs, making an audible attempt to shed her annoyance before asking, “Where are you?”

“Almost to Marble Falls. I’m probably going to lose signal soon,” I say.

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