Leah on the Offbeat (Creekwood #2)(62)

“I think that’s, like, bare minimum fetus achievement.”

“I don’t know. I just found it so amazing. I still do. Look at you.” I glance up in the mirror, meeting her eyes, and for a moment, we’re both silent. When Mom finally speaks, it’s almost a whisper. “Everyone was always telling me how fast it goes. It used to piss me off.”

“Ha.”

“Like, it was always some random lady in the grocery store. You’d be flailing around, pitching a fit, and every single time, some jerk would just have to come up and tell me I’d miss it one day. Oh, she’ll be off to college before you know it. Enjoy these moments now. I was like, cool story, fuck you.” She twists a lock of my hair around the curling iron. “But they were so right.”

“It happens.”

“I just can’t believe you’re leaving.” Mom blinks, a little too quickly.

“You realize I’ll be an hour and a half away, right?”

“I know, I know.” She smiles sadly. “But you know what I mean.”

I wrinkle my nose at her. “Don’t you dare cry.”

“Why, because you’ll cry?”

“No way. Never.”

Mom laughs softly. “It’s going to be so weird here without you, Leah.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I don’t want you sobbing over me and ruining your prom aesthetic.”

“My prom aesthetic.” I roll my eyes, smiling.

Mom smiles back. “You’re going to have so much fun tonight, Lee.”

“It’s going to be weird.”

“Even if it’s weird. I loved my weird, messy prom night.” She shrugs. “Just embrace it. That’s what I did. I remember looking in the mirror and deciding my prom was going to be suck-free, even if it wasn’t going to be how I imagined it.”

“Well, mine’s going to suck.” I make a face at her in the mirror.

“But why? It doesn’t have to.” She leans forward, resting her chin on my head. “Just promise me you won’t overthink this.”

Then it hits me, like a kick in the crotch. “Fuck.”

Mom meets my eyes in the mirror, brows raised. “You okay?”

“I am such an idiot.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I don’t have a bra.”

“Mmm.” Mom tucks a final strand of hair in place and smiles. “Not bad, right?”

I mean, yeah, Mom knocked it out of the park. I don’t know how she did it, but my hair is smooth and wavy, swept back on the sides, with little soft pieces hanging down around my cheeks. Of course, the fact that I’m still in pajamas makes it seem like my head and body belong to two different people, but I guess it will look good with the dress.

Except for the fact that I don’t have a fucking bra.

“I need something strapless.”

“You don’t have a strapless bra?”

“Why would I have a strapless bra?”

Mom’s mouth quirks. “Because you have a strapless dress?”

“Okay, it’s not funny. I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Lee.” She rests her hands on my shoulders. “We have a few hours until Garrett gets here. We can buy you a bra.”

“From where?”

“From anywhere. How about Target? Go throw on some jeans.” She grabs her purse. “Let’s hit it.”

Except the car won’t start.

“Nope,” Mom says as the key clicks uselessly. “Not today, Satan.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Hold on.” She nudges the steering wheel and opens and closes her door. “I’m trying again.”

Still nothing.

She looks vaguely panicked. “Should I blow on the key?”

“That’s not a thing, Mom.”

“Oh, come on,” she mutters, smacking her hands down on the steering wheel. “Of all fuckin’ days.”

“Okay, please don’t say fuckin’.”

She shoots me a self-conscious glance. “I thought we liked cussing.”

“We love cussing. But we say the fucking g. I don’t want to hear that apostrophe, Mom.”

“I can’t believe this,” she says.

I nod. “It’s a sign.”

“Of what?”

“That I should stay home.”

Now Mom’s rolling her eyes. “You want to miss prom because of a bra?”

“Because of the lack of a bra,” I correct her. “And because I have no way of getting a bra.”

Mom doesn’t respond—she just digs into her purse for her phone. Then she taps into her favorite contacts.

“Who are you calling?”

She ignores me.

“Oh hell no.” I make a grab for the phone, but she yanks it out of reach. “Are you calling Wells?”

No response. She presses send.

“Please tell me you’re not asking Wells to buy me a fucking bra.”

“Why not?” The phone starts ringing.

“Because it’s a bra.”

“So?”

“So, that’s disgusting.”