Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
The following night Reagan’s sitting at her vanity with the laptop open in front of her while I stand off to the side doing her makeup.
“I can’t believe how much it looks like the girl on the video. I swear I’ve tried a few of these and it never looks anything like it’s supposed to.”
“Ava’s been letting me practice on her.” I glance at the girl on the screen and back to Reagan. “The winged eye looks really good on you.”
Putting makeup on Reagan is fun. She’s so naturally beautiful I probably couldn’t make her look bad if I tried, but she’s right, I managed to get it pretty close to the girl on camera.
“You’re hired. Someday when I’m a big well-known actress, I’m going to force you to do my makeup every day. In fact, I wish you could do my makeup for the winter play.”
Reagan is a theater major, and according to Dakota, she kicks ass in the school plays.
“Doesn’t the department hire someone to do makeup for the performances?”
“Yes. The previous stage director’s mother, Ms. Morrison. She’s lovely and nice and has been doing makeup for the university performances for something like twenty years, but last spring she had me looking like a clown. There’s stage makeup, and then, there’s straight-up too much blush.”
I brush a little shimmer powder along her cheekbones. “Well, I’m happy to do it anytime. Seriously, doing your makeup every day is my dream job.”
“Why aren’t you going to school to be a makeup artist?” Dakota asks from the bed. She’s lying on her side looking at her phone.
“Unless you work in a salon or store, it’s a lot of freelance gigs like wedding days and special occasions. Plus, there’s so much pressure to get it perfect so they feel beautiful and confident.”
“Well, I feel both right now, so I think you’d be great at it.” Reagan purses her lips and then smiles.
“Speaking of jobs, I need to find one if I’m going to be able to move out next year.
Do you guys know of anything on campus or off?
I was thinking about checking local restaurants and cafés.
” Rooming with Ava’s been great. We get along well, and she doesn’t have any crazy habits like leaving out old food or rummaging through my things without asking, but I don’t want to do dorm life again next year.
“The Hall of Fame is always looking for guides,” Dakota says.
“Guides?”
She sits up and abandons her phone. “Yeah, we do tours for local groups like schools and other organizations, but we also get to help with recruitment. I can ask my boss if you want.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, I’m not going to lie, the fact that you’re Adam Scott’s little sister will probably help. My boss has a giant crush on him.”
“What?” I ask at the same time Reagan mutters, “Who doesn’t?”
Dakota and I look to her. “What? Come on, he’s hot. No, not only hot, he’s nice and…” She trails off. “I’m just saying, it isn’t totally ridiculous that she has a crush on him.”
Dakota shakes her head. “Well, whatever, but every time he’s around, she gets all flustered and blushes.”
Gross. “That’s so weird, but whatever, the job sounds fun.”
“Great. I’m working tomorrow, so I’ll ask.”
I get up and pull my phone out of my pocket so I can take pictures of my work. “Stand against the wall.” I point to a blank section of white wall in her room and Reagan moves in front of it. “The guy you were crushing on earlier this year, it wasn’t Adam, right?”
“What?” Reagan freezes. “No, of course not. I only meant I could understand it.”
“Is it Heath?” Seems like a long shot since he’s not dating anyone, but I need her to rule him out anyway. It would be too weird if she was into him.
“Definitely no.”
“Why ‘definitely no’? Heath is great.”
“Rhett?” Dakota asks.
“Would you two stop trying to guess. I’m not telling you and it doesn’t matter anyway. Every time I’m around him, I go stupid shy. I need a guy more on my level. Plus, I have a new crush and he is single and he asked for my number.”
My phone pings as I take a few photos of Reagan’s makeup. “That’s Maverick. I’m going over to study with him again.”
“Can you do this for my date?” Reagan makes a circle in front of her face.
“Absolutely, but you don’t need my help to look gorgeous.” I grab my stuff and wave as I head out.
Maverick is already at Adam’s apartment when I get there. He’s on the couch with Charli next to him. Rhett and Heath are playing video games.
“Did I miss Adam?” I sit in the chair next to Heath.
He bumps my shoulder. “Yeah, he left for Taryn’s a few minutes ago.”
“Does she ever come here?”
“Nah, not really.”
I get up and haul my backpack to the table and pull out my laptop and a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets I borrowed from the library. Maverick follows and takes the chair across from me. Charli lies at his feet.
“Do you want me to take a look at your notes or should we jump into the study questions?”
He heaves a dramatic sigh. “My notes might be shit.”
He hands over a notebook filled with three pages of his small penmanship.
“Did you write down everything the professor said?” I ask, baffled as I scan over them. The amount of detail he’s captured is crazy.
“Uh, yeah. I wasn’t sure what was important and what wasn’t, so I wrote down damn near everything.”
“I’m not sure either. Wow okay. The test is an essay?”
“Yeah. Payne, phone’s going off in your room,” Maverick calls to him.
Heath stands with the controller, backing out of the room. “Ah, ah, fuck. I’m cornered. Pause, one second.” He rushes into his room and out of view, but I hear him answer the phone.
His voice lowers and softens, that tells me immediately he’s talking to a girl. A surge of white-hot jealousy heats my face. He comes back out, phone to his ear, and tosses the controller on the couch.
“Sorry, man, gotta take this,” he says to Rhett and then disappears back into his room, shutting the door behind him.
“So, what do you think?” Maverick asks, bringing me back to the present.
“These notes are great.” We spend the next fifteen minutes picking out things we think he can use. Maverick is detailed and thorough in his studying. It surprises me he’s failing actually. At least until I start asking him questions about it and his attention is about as focused as Charli’s.
“What was the question again?” he asks.
I laugh and he gives me a sheepish grin. “I really fucking hate this class.”
“Why are you taking it?”
“I thought it would be an easy A. I breezed through American Literature.”
“Okay, well, how did you study for that class?”
“I don’t know.” He leans over and pets his dog and a smile pulls at his lips. “Heath and I read the books out loud to each other in funny accents.”
“Heath helped you study? Did you have the class together?”
“Not together, but we were both taking it, different professors. Most of the reading was the same though.”
“Were you roommates?”
“Yeah, we lived in the dorms together last year.”
I’m suddenly less interested in studying than I am hearing about Heath helping Maverick study. What I would give for a peek into the past of those two reading Hemingway.
“Okay, well, we can try that.” I grab the book off the table between us. “The first five sonnets?”
“I’ve already read them.”
“But now that you know the form and themes, I think you’ll be able to pick them out easier. Maybe they’ll make more sense.”
“Yeah, all right.”
I clear my throat and open it to the first page and start reading.
As I’m finishing it and handing the book over to Maverick for a turn, Heath’s door opens and he steps out.
“Payne! Sit your sexy ass down and read me some Shakespeare.”
Heath takes a seat and to my surprise takes the book. “You’re reading it out loud?”
“It helped last year. Worth a try, right?”
Heath crosses one ankle over the other. “What do we have here?”
“Sonnets,” Maverick says.
A deep laugh rolls out of him as he brings the paperback up and starts reading. His voice is crisp, and the gravelly timber is easy to slip right under. His pitch varies and practically sings along the stanzas. I’m falling into it so deeply and I’m not even the one who needs to be paying attention.
Heath looks up as he’s flipping the page and our eyes meet over the top of the book.
“Do it in your British accent,” Maverick begs.
Heath looks like he might object, but then Maverick sticks his bottom lip out like he’s pouting.
Heath looks to me again quickly before he starts again. I giggle at his accent, but my stomach flips. Shakespeare will never be the same.
As I’m packing up to leave, Maverick thanks me.
“I’m not sure how much I actually helped, but it was fun. Do you feel good about it?”
“Yeah, Shakespeare’s the shit.”
I laugh.
“Next week, then?”
“Sure. Also, I was thinking, if listening helps, you could try audiobooks.”
“Maybe, but then I’d miss out on Heath reading to me.” He winks at Heath and then whistles to get Charli’s attention. “I’m out. See you tomorrow.”
The man has a point. My body still tingles from Heath’s voice reading such beautiful words.
Rhett went to his room earlier, so it’s just me and Heath as I shoulder my backpack. “He’s right — you have a really nice voice.”
One side of his mouth pulls up into a boyish smile. “Thanks. I have no idea what I was reading.”
“I won’t tell Maverick.”
“Do you have to run off or do you want to stay and hang out?”
“I can stay for a bit.”
“Yeah?” He smiles wider like he’d been expecting me to say no, then takes my backpack off my shoulder and carries it to his room.
He puts my bag on the floor and then clears the clothes and books off his bed so we can sit. There’s a box addressed to him at the end, still unopened. “What’s that?”
“Oh, uh, my brother and his fiancée send me these care packages every month.” He looks a little uncomfortable to admit it.
“My mom did that for Adam his first semester.” Now that I think of it, she hasn’t sent me one yet, although she has been distracted with all the fabulous trips they’ve been taking.
The last time I talked to her, she and my dad had just returned from one trip and she was already planning another with her girlfriends. “Every month?”
“Yeah, pretty much without fail.”
“What’s inside?”
“Random shit, different every month.” He pulls at the tape and dives in, looking more excited than he’d seemed a few seconds ago.
“Gift card.” He sets it on the bed. “Granola bars, gum. Nathan must have put this one together.”
“You guys are pretty close then?” I ask as I watch him pull out more stuff (all food-related, shocker) and lay it on the bed.
“Yeah, we’re cool, but it makes me crazy how he’s always trying to take care of me like I’m still a kid.”
“I get that. Man, do I get that, but this is really nice.” I motion to the gifts laid out on the bed.
“But I don’t need him to send me stuff. I could buy all this on my own. Our dad passed when I was in middle school, so I think he feels like he needs to step into those shoes and make sure I’m okay.”
“Or maybe he just wants to show you he cares with stuff he thinks you might need or want.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He laughs lightly and picks up a Ziploc bag filled with quarters. “What do you suppose he was trying to say with this?”
“I have no idea.” I take the bag. It’s heavy and must have at least ten dollars’ worth of quarters in it. “Enjoy the vending machines?”