Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(35)
“I run with the A-crowd, hon. Looking naturally stunning is a part of the job description.” Grace stepped back to check out her work. “So, why the sudden ‘go get him’ attitude? The Phoebe I know would have begged off and said she’d catch up on Monday.”
She turned me around to face the mirror and I spoke to her reflection.
“Remember how last time I said I didn’t know if I had a crush on Dev or not?” She nodded at me to go on. “I think I’m definitely crushing on him now. Not as much as Kris,” I added quickly, “but Dev’s actually really funny and now that I’m paying attention to him that way, kind-of hot.”
Grace fluffed my ponytail. “And he doesn’t look like what’s-his-face from your book? Be still my heart.”
“No more soul bearing for you if you keep up the sarcasm.” I checked my reflection. Whatever she had done to me was amazing. I still looked like me, just a me that had spent a weekend relaxing on a beach somewhere instead of bouncing from house to house and staying up late knitting in suburban Massachusetts. “Even if you have the magical ability to make me dateworthy.”
She rolled her eyes and started repacking her stuff. “You’re dateworthy with or without makeup. Now,” she added, “want me to walk with you to the diner?”
“Please?” I grabbed a scarf and handwarmers out of my basket o’ warmth and followed her out of my bedroom and through the front door. A hoodie would have been better for this freakishly-warm-for-late-fall-but-still-fingernumbingly-cool weather, but Grace probably would have nixed it. Unless it was like the Pine Central one she herself was wearing. I had to get myself some fashion-appropriate school spirit.
“ What happened when I was gone? How was Thanksgiving at Leia’s house?”
“Uncomfortable. Her uncle started quoting religious stuff at us, her mom broke down in tears, there was a bunch of political debate, and then half the people who’d been debating fell asleep on the couch watching football. The usual.” Grace smiled over at me. “Plus, you missed the Thanksgiving game drama at school,” she said as we slogged through a pile of leaves that had taken over our cut-through.
Even though there were more leaves on the ground than on the trees, it was still autumnally pretty and, like a two year old, I couldn’t help but shuffle my feet so the leaves flew up around us as we walked. I tilted my head to in confusion.
“Drama? No one told me there was drama.”
“Jon was under the bleachers making out with Cassie. You know, from the squad?” It took me a second to register that she meant cheerleading squad. “Her ex-boyfriend, Mike Lyons, was on the bench, saw them, and, I didn’t see the whole thing because I was cheering, but I heard that Mike dangled Jon by his ankles from the top of the bleachers and Mr. Winters had to go all Marine on the two of them. And then Cassie got all googly-eyed and got back together with Mike because she thought it was ‘romantic.’” She pulled her hands out of her sleeves to air-quote “romantic.”
I blinked, trying to picture the entire thing. “I’m sorry I missed that. Mike is usually so nice.” I tried to choke back a laugh. “Poor Jon, though. First me and my awkwardness, now Cassie’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Yeah. I’d pity-date him if it weren’t for Leia and the fact that he’s a guy.” We stopped in front of Carlo’s Diner, which looked more like a Victorian tea house from the outside, thanks to the town’s architectural “vision.”
Grace gestured up the steps. “Go be awesome and make me proud.”
I impulsively hugged her again and made my way up the steps. Time to try and be a Marissa-Maeve amalgam in person.
It turned out I only had to be a Maeve, keeping my expression completely devoid of what was really going on in my mind while still looking cute and interesting. Yes, Dev was at the diner. With a bunch of his theatre friends, including Lexie. And, yes, he did drag a chair over and make room next to him at the table for me, but this wasn’t what I expected.
I did what I always did in crowds of people I really didn’t know. I turned into a silent lump of fake smiles and nods at conversations full of people and things I didn’t even know about. Em was still at her grandfather’s shore house, or she’d at least be someone to talk to. Part of me was tempted to text Grace and beg her to come back and save me.
Lexie reached over from her spot across the table and took the sleeve of my sweater between her fingers, rubbing the material. I hated people who didn’t ask permission before manhandling my knits.
“Did you make this?” she asked. I nodded, and she sat back, studying the sweater. “You’ll have to make me one of those. It’s pretty.”
Years of comments like that made my answer automatic. “I can teach you how to knit and then you can make your own.” Even though I didn’t like her, I could already picture the bright blue Madelinetosh from the store that would make her skintone glow. As well as the pattern that would make the yarn and her body look great. Because I was, like, the yarn whisperer or something.
“I don’t have enough free time to do any knitting,” she said with a dismissive wave, “but I can pay you to make it for me.”
Another automatic answer, this one something that would definitely make Maeve proud. “You can’t afford me.” Like my free time was any less valuable than hers.