Chapter 8 Lois #2
“Shush it! And the new haircut looks incredible by the way.”
“Really?”
I still haven’t summoned the courage to look. All I can do is trust how eagerly she’s smiling at me.
Becca spends the next hour dressing and undressing me a couple of dozen times. Weirdly, the clothes she gives me actually suit me, and she insists on applying a little light makeup, too. When finally I turn back to the full-length mirror, my mouth falls open.
“You like?”
I stare at my hair, or what’s left of it. Carrie chopped off a good twelve inches or so. I examine my long bob in silence, turning my head this way and that.
“I’ll get used to it.”
It sounds more like I’m asking a question, and Carrie bursts out laughing.
“It’ll be fine, Lois.” She pats me on the shoulder. “You’re really pretty, you know.”
I take in the rest of my makeover. “I’m not sure about this top.”
Becca jabs a finger at my chest. “Your boobs looks amazing in it!”
“Isn’t it a little short? I don’t like how it shows my stomach.”
I tug on the fabric, but it bounces back up to graze my belly button.
“Gosh, Lois. It’s a cropped top. Everyone wears them.”
It’s the kind of logic that doesn’t land right when you’re talking to a leggings-and-hoodie girl like me.
“I don’t know…”
“I’m the fashion coach here.” My stylist puts her hands on her hips. “You’re the student!”
“Want me to check out the situation ‘down there’?” Carrie asks.
I stiffen. “I think we’ve done enough for today.”
“You’re the boss.”
“I’m gonna hit the road; I have some shopping to do.”
“That’s the spirit!” Becca strikes a warrior pose. “Go forth and be hot!”
I laugh. “Have a great day, girls. And thank you for everything.”
On my way to the mall, I can’t help but check myself out in every window I pass. It’s going to take time to get used to it, but I’m pretty pleased with the result.
I spend sixty bucks on sportswear and another thirty at the grocery store. I’m starving, and the food stuffed into my bags isn’t exactly the kind of thing to get a girl’s mouth watering, but where there’s a will, there’s a way—I guess.
I stop to catch my breath at the door to Lane’s building, placing my bags down by my feet to rest my sore arms. When I get to Kirk’s floor, I take my sweet time, desperately hoping to bump into him, listening closely as I walk past his door. I don’t stop.
By the time I reach the fifth floor, I’m dying.
And I’m praying that Lane is still home, too, because I’ve only just remembered something pretty important: I don’t have keys to his place.
I press my elbow down on the handle and thank my lucky stars when it gives way and the door swings open.
I’m so relieved to have made it inside that it takes me a second to notice the five pairs of eyes swiveling to stare at me.
“Hey… guys.”
Carter and the four Campus Drivers are gathered in the living room. None of them have said a word. They’re all sitting there staring like the devil himself just stepped through the door, and it takes Lewis a moment to break the silence.
“Who are you, ma’am?”
That’s when it clicks. They’ve been stunned into silence by my makeover. The blood rushes to my cheeks.
“D-don’t mind me,” I stammer as I lunge for the fridge. “I’ll be right out of your way.”
I can hear them whispering, and it makes me want to disappear into the fridge somewhere between the burgers and the beers. I stuff my supplies into the crisper and hover behind the fridge door.
I sneak a glance over at them. They’re still watching me.
“Anyone want a beer?” I say, my voice a bit squeaky.
Adam smiles. “Me! Come join us, I’ll scoot over.”
“No, don’t worry, I’ve got plans.” I grab a chilled bottle and hold it out to him, stretching my arm as far as it will go.
“You look really good,” he says, bringing the bottle to his lips.
“Oh… Thanks.”
“I’ve got a feeling Dexter Drake will be heading back to LA as soon as he can,” Donovan says, elbowing Lewis.
I frown and step back, confused.
“You don’t do things by halves, Heartbreak.”
Lane’s telltale deep, snarky voice. I should never have let the booze loosen my lips the way it did last night. I hate that now he knows what he does about me, and I can’t decide how to reply. I’m overwhelmed by a desperate urge to get the hell out of here.
I shuffle back to the plastic bag I left in the hall, dart into the bathroom, and lock the door.
I need to ditch my old clothes and change into the brand-new sportswear I’ve just bought myself, and I need to dig deep for the courage to walk back out there past the guys without looking like I’m running away.
You know what? Fuck ’em! I wiggle my toes in my shiny new sneakers, take a deep breath in, and swing the door open, primed to sprint straight past them.
Bam.
I run straight into an unmovable mass.
I don’t need to look up to know who it is, I can tell it’s Lane just by the amazing smell of his T-shirt. Oh God, what is wrong with you, Lois?
He still hasn’t moved.
“Can I help you?” I snap. “What are you doing lurking here?”
He doesn’t say a word. I get the feeling he’s waiting for something, and when I can’t take the silence anymore, I give in and look up, finding him staring at me.
“What?” I sigh, tugging on my tank. “Got something you want to share with the class? Warm-up tips, maybe?”
The words come spilling out, and he just stands there, still as a statue.
“No? Nothing? Amazing! If you don’t mind, then, I need to get going. My plan is to go for a run and look for a place along the way. See what a great multitasker I am?”
I haven’t even started running yet, and I’m already out of breath. Great!
I’m about to barge past him, when he steps aside and lets me by, and just as I make to leave, he speaks.
“I like the hair.”
I freeze. I turn back to face him.
“What?”
I must have misheard.
“It suits you,” he adds.
The conversation is beyond weird. This isn’t the Lane I’m used to. This guy is seriously unpredictable. Ugh, he drives me crazy.
“Why are you so…”
“Sweet?” he finishes for me.
“Exhausting!” I correct, tucking my hair behind my ears.
He shrugs and slouches against the wall. The way he swings between being mean and playing Mr. Nice Guy is giving me whiplash. I honestly have no idea whether he’s serious or messing with me.
He’s back to staring at me in silence so I turn to leave before things get even weirder.
“Well! On that note, see you later.”
Before I reach the living room, I can’t help but stop in my tracks.
“Thank you, by the way,” I whisper.
I don’t turn back.