Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I wrinkled my nose at the thought, because I wasn’t someone who could have casual sex. Or at least, I couldn’t enjoy it. And who wanted to be a man’s 113th partner? Definitely not me.
“Get in here so I can do your hair!” Marlowe yelled from the bathroom.
I took a final look at the shirt, which I was apparently wearing to dinner, and walked into the bathroom.
“It’s still wet,” I said.
“That’s why I’m going to dry it.” She arched a brow.
“Don’t be so salty. I’m not into hairstyling.”
Marlowe smiled. “Just sit down and let me work my magic.”
“Okay, but don’t make it fancy. I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to make it into a date.”
I sat down and Marlowe, standing behind me, met my gaze in the mirror. “Anything other than sweats and a ponytail is fancy to you.”
“I like being comfortable, okay? I’m not used to wearing shirts that make me look like I painted my chest black.”
“You’re pretty, Shelby. Why do you try so hard to make yourself look average when you’re so pretty?”
My gaze instinctively shot to my lap as a long-forgotten childhood memory came rushing back.
My mother held my upper arm, squeezing it as she practically dragged me out the front door of the restaurant we’d met her latest boyfriend at for dinner.
Our coats were still inside, and the winter air stung my cheeks. She finally let go of my arm, glaring at me.
“You are not ruining this for me, Shelby. Tony is my boyfriend. I expect you to smile at him and look interested in what he’s saying.”
I was eleven, and I didn’t like Tony. He talked nonstop about what a big deal he was and how scared his employees were of him firing them. I was embarrassed for my mom, who was heavily made up and wearing a tight, low-cut leopard-print shirt.
“I want to go home,” I said.
My mom bent down, her eyes narrowed. “Smile and laugh when I do. If you fuck up one more time, I’m throwing away your library books and you can forget about getting a ride to school anymore. Are we clear?”
Throwing away my library books would mean I could never check out more. She meant it, too. The only thing my mom took seriously was flirting with men. They were her only source of income, after all.
“Yes,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “We’re clear.”
“Shelby, are you okay?” Marlowe asked, giving my shoulder a small shake.
“It’s because of my mom,” I said, answering her earlier question. “When I was a kid, she dressed up and went out to bars trying to land men. It’s actually a lot more screwed up than that, but…I probably try too hard to not be like her.”
“Well, shit.” Marlowe bent her knees and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me from behind. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry, Shelby.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel sorry for me. I was just being honest.”
“I know.” She stood up and reached for her blow-dryer. “And you’re nothing like her, I promise. I just want you to look and feel like the beautiful woman you are.”
I scoffed. “I’m average on a good day, but you’re a true friend for saying that.”
“Wait and see when I’m done.”
An hour later, I marveled at the transformation she’d managed. My makeup was natural, but it brought out my features in ways I never imagined. Marlowe had styled my hair in loose waves I couldn’t help running my fingers through.
“Wow, I can’t believe this is me,” I said, turning from side to side to admire my reflection.
“If Beau doesn’t immediately tell you you’re beautiful, walk right back out of that restaurant,” she said. “I don’t have plans tonight, so we can watch a movie and order pizza.”
“Oh, don’t tempt me. I’m going into an uncomfortable situation, so you know I’ll be looking for any excuse to bail.”
“Shelby, wow. I mean…wow.”
It was less than an hour after my conversation with Marlowe, and Beau was standing outside my apartment door getting his first look at the made-over me.
“My friend likes doing hair and makeup,” I explained, sifting through my bag for the lipstick I already knew was there.
“Well, you look amazing.”
I looked up from my bag, smiling at him. How could I not? He was easy on the eyes, he’d paid me a nice compliment, and I’d just realized that as of yesterday morning, my period was late.
How had I forgotten? Getting pregnant consumed my thoughts, but I hadn’t looked at my period tracker for several days. It was too early to share my hopes out loud with anyone, but I was still giddy.
“Thank you,” I said, excitement swirling in my stomach.
“Ready to go?”
“I am.”
I grabbed my coat, closed and locked my apartment door, then walked beside him to his car, which turned out to be a dark gray Range Rover.