47. Found Family
CHAPTER 47
FOUND FAMILY
NORA
The boutique's bell chimes as we enter, releasing a burst of air-conditioned air that carries the scent of new fabric and expensive perfume. Camilla, Mia, and Marcus sweep in beside me, their energy infectious enough to momentarily quiet the storm of thoughts about Nate swirling in my head—our raw conversation yesterday, the promise of tomorrow's Jimmy Eat World show hanging between us like an unspoken question.
Marcus, ever the force of nature, immediately takes command of our dress-shopping mission. His eyes light up as he prowls the racks, fingers dancing across fabrics with the precision of a surgeon.
"My girls," he declares, already pulling dresses in jewel tones and shimmer, "are going to be the absolute queens of this gala."
The next few hours blur into a kaleidoscope of silk, sequins, and Marcus's running commentary. Every time one of us emerges from behind the velvet curtain of the changing room, he's ready with a verdict that ranges from, "Girl, that dress was made for you" to "I wouldn't wear that to clean my bathroom." His dramatic flair transforms what could have been an exhausting afternoon into something that feels almost magical.
By the time Marcus whisks Mia away for her fifth round of trying on dresses, my feet are screaming for mercy. I sink into the boutique's cream-colored sofa, the plush velvet embracing me like an old friend. Camilla joins me, the cushions dipping under her weight as she settles in close enough for our shoulders to brush.
"So…" she drawls, her voice pitched low and conspiratorial. "What really happened with you and Nate in the kitchen before I walked in?"
The memory hits me with startling clarity—the warmth of his breath, the way his fingers had trembled against my skin. My neck floods with heat.
"God, I wish I knew," I admit, matching her hushed tone. "One minute he's laying his heart bare, and the next he's trying to forget it ever happened. Then earlier today, he's all casual about going to Jimmy Eat World together tomorrow. Just the two of us. As friends." The last word tastes bitter on my tongue.
Camilla's eyebrow arches skeptically. "Why are boys so dumb? Do you honestly think 'just friends' is even possible anymore?"
Before I can dive into that emotional minefield, Marcus materializes like he's been summoned, dramatically fanning himself with a wooden hanger.
"That boy," he announces, "is completely loco for you. He's just drowning in his own feelings like a cat in a bathtub. Classic man behavior—painful to watch, really."
A laugh bubbles up from my chest despite myself, but Camilla's expression remains serious, her dark eyes holding mine.
"I think he's just scared, Nora," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "But don't let his fear become your prison. If he doesn't get his act together soon, he's going to spend a long time regretting it."
Marcus breaks the moment by tossing a dress across my lap, the fabric cool and silky against my skin. "Your turn, Cinderella! Let's see if we can find something that'll make Prince Charming finally wake up and smell the obvious."
Just then, Mia emerges from the dressing room in a gold dress that transforms her into something otherworldly. The fabric catches the light like captured sunshine, making her glow from within.
"Oh, honey!" Marcus's voice carries across the store. "That's it! That's the one!"
Camilla and I nod in enthusiastic agreement, watching Mia twirl with the kind of joy that makes you forget everything else for a moment.
The afternoon continues like this, a parade of fabric and friendship. Somehow it feels like I've known these people for years, not four weeks.
"So, what's the plan with Jake?" Camilla asks.
The question hits me like a splash of cold water. "What do you mean?"
Her smile turns knowing, though there's kindness in it. "Come on, Nora. Both of them are in love with you. You've noticed, right?"
"Jake?" The laugh that escapes me sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Jake's been my best friend since we were kids. He's practically my brother."
"Are you sure he knows that?"
The words settle in my chest like stones, forcing me to examine memories I've never questioned.
We move through several more stores, the afternoon taking on a dreamlike quality. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm surrounded by people who see me and accept every complicated piece without question. The feeling is so foreign it almost hurts. But because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, we walk into our final boutique only to find Farrah holding court with Shay and Harlow, all of them perched on display furniture like they own the place. The moment Farrah spots us, the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees.
"Great," Mia mutters, "way to kill the vibe."
Farrah's crew approaches like a pack of wolves, but Camilla—beautiful, fierce Camilla—straightens her spine and meets their gaze with the kind of confidence that can't be faked.
"I think you're in the wrong store," Farrah sneers, arms crossed. "The charity shop is two streets over."
Camilla's laugh is sharp and bright. "Oh, if I wanted a bargain, I'd just raid your closet." Her eyes sweep over Farrah's outfit with exaggerated precision.
The exchange escalates until Farrah crosses a line.
"You're just a charity case they keep around for diversity points."
Camilla doesn't flinch. Instead, she steps closer, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Let me ask you something, Barbie. Do you care about the environment?"
Farrah's perfect features scrunch in confusion. "What are you even talking about?"
"Somewhere out there, there's a tree working really hard to produce oxygen so you can breathe. I think you owe it an apology."
The silence that follows is perfect, right up until Marcus snorts, setting off a chain reaction of laughter that sends Farrah and her minions fleeing the store, their faces flushed with embarrassment.
Over lunch, in a quiet corner of a café that smells of coffee and fresh-baked bread, I find myself opening up about Claire—my former best friend who stood silent when I needed her most during the Evan situation. I carefully dance around the details of that night, but the pain still leaks through my words like water through cupped hands.
Instead of offering empty platitudes, my new friends listen. Really listen. And when Camilla pulls me into a fierce hug, followed quickly by the others, it feels like coming home after a long time away.
"If I ever see that son of a bitch again," Camilla says when she pulls back, her eyes flashing, "I'll break his face. I'll let karma take care of Claire."
I laugh, the sound wet but genuine. "Thanks, Cam."
She winks, her smile softening.
"You know what? I'm grateful to those bitches from your old school. It's like the universe cleared them out so you and I could find each other."
"Excuse me," Marcus interjects, draping an arm across my shoulders. "So we could all find each other."
Looking around at these faces that have become so dear to me in such a short time, I feel something shift and settle in my chest. It's like finding a piece of a puzzle you didn't know was missing—the kind of belonging that makes you realize how lonely you were before you found it.