“Fine.” Charlotte winks at me, turning my face with her palms and tugging on my hair every so often while she speaks. “In the summers I help my mom with her at-home salon. It’s a kitchen chair she tosses behind her trailer under a canopy. Her business, Hair and Wine, is perfect for her personality, and it brings in just enough to pay for the groceries if she’s not too drunk to finish the cuts.”
Her mother’s an alcoholic? No wonder Charlotte’s such a force: she’s had to be. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. She taught me how to cut when she was sober, and I’ve been watching her my whole life. I do most of the cutting now while she shares a glass of wine with the client, making them buzzed enough so they tip extra.” She brushes my hair to the side and nods as if she’s calculating a difficult math problem.
“Charlotte?” Tuti sighs. “Is this really the best time to dump your life story on Edel? The girl’s got her own issues.”
“What? I’m giving her a reason to appreciate her situation a little bit more.”
“How did you end up at Brockmore?” I ask. The place runs sixty to eighty grand a year, depending on household income.
“My brain bought me a huge scholarship—well, minus the math stuff. God, I hate numbers like I hate lunges and squats.” She nods toward Ainsley. “They put us poor girls together as roommates, thank God. I couldn’t survive this place without Ainsley’s square head on her shoulders. Sorry, Tuti.”
Tuti shrugs. “No biggie. I’m well-aware I got lucky with a viral video that launched a successful YouTube channel and blog. I’m set for now.”
“But you don’t act like you brush your teeth with money. That’s the key.” Charlotte gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to look striking? You’ll own this cut, and it’ll toss Emma’s plan back in her face. I bet in one week I’ll have freshmen knocking on my door, begging me for the Edelweiss look.”
“Charlotte cuts mine all the time.” Ainsley drags again from her e-cig. “She does a good job. And don’t freak out, I ask her to leave my bob unblended.” She fingers the blunt ends of her dark hair. “Fits me better this way.”
I glance at Tuti, who nods. “Go for it. The cuts Charlotte gives are far better than the ones in town. She does my hair too.”
“Okay. I trust you.” Please, don’t botch this up!
Ainsley grins. “James will like it.”
“Are you two friends?” I wince at the sound of the scissors slicing through my hair.
She nods. And that’s it. No extra info.
“Where are you from?” I pry a bit.
“Here in Maryland.”
“Edelweiss, there’s no use digging. I’ve lived with Ainsley for three years, and the only thing I know is that she’s poor and an orphan.”
Wow. Charlotte really doesn’t hold her tongue, like ever.
Ainsley shrugs. “I qualified on a scholarship like Charlotte. And I don’t talk about my past because there isn’t much to tell. I had a nice foster family for a few years after my mom died. They saw my potential and had me apply for the scholarship here at Brockmore. The rest is history.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Ainsley,” I say, hugging my pillow to my chest while Charlotte cuts.
Ainsley pulls again from the blue vape pen and gazes out the window.
The dead hair in my hand doesn’t seem so bad anymore. At least I have my mom and dad. I don’t have to worry about where I live in the summer and how to pay the bills.
“Thanks, guys.” I finally release the strands of hair, letting them flutter down into the trash bin Charlotte’s placed between her feet.
“Atta girl. Now, look down.” Charlotte forces my face down toward the floor while she cuts again. “Much better.”
Tuti reads from Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings to help us knock out our English homework for the night while ten years of my childhood flutter to the floor. Charlotte needs over an hour to get my hair to lie just right and another twenty minutes of finessing the style before she’ll hand over a mirror.
And when she does, I barely recognize the girl looking back. Instead of gazing at the girl I’d long accepted as being a bit homely, a woman who seems to have a little spunk grins back.
Holy hell!
Dad is going to freak out.
Charlotte squeezes my shoulders reassuringly. “I told you. It’s sexy as hell.”
“I’ll say.” A deep voice floats in through the window, and all of us jump.
“James?” Ainsley opens the window further for him. “You’re going to be destroyed if someone finds out.”
“Oh my God.” Tuti presses her hands to her cheeks. “My parents will kill me if I get expelled because a boy is in my room.”
“I’m sorry. I need to talk to Edel, and this can’t wait until tomorrow. Can I come in?” He swings his leg over the ledge, looking only to me. “Please, Edel.”
“Fine,” I whisper.
Charlotte shifts away. “Hold that thought until my ass is out of here. Sorry, Edelweiss. I can’t handle the trailer park for more than three months a year.”
“Yeah,” Ainsley picks up her books. “I’ve got to go too. Maryland’s foster program is not as sweet of a gig as Brockmore.”
“Well, then I’m not staying.” Tuti leaps up, then looks at me. “Just…” She sighs. “Put one of my hair ties on the door if you don’t want me opening it, okay?”
I roll my eyes. “You won’t have to worry about that. I’d leave the door open if…”
“It wouldn’t get us expelled.” James nods. “I know what I’m risking, and it’s worth it.”
“Is it?” I ask.
“I think so.” James’s eyes lock onto mine, those gold specks edging the deep, brown sparkle. A burning flutter kisses my cheeks and suddenly the room feels far too warm.
“Later, Edel,” Tuti says with a wink as she closes the door. When I turn around, James stands between our beds, his hand running through his hair and looking at the ground. There’s tension in the air.
“First time in a girls’ room?”
A low chuckle breaks the tension. “No, definitely not. I just suck at the whole apologizing thing.”
“You told me being together would offer me protection.” I tug at the hair tickling my jawline. “You just stood there and watched.”
“Yeah.” He winces, pulling out Tuti’s desk chair. “Can I sit here?”
“Sure.” I cross my arms firmly, keeping my feet planted on the ground. “So, were you in on it? Charlotte said she saw you walking in with Emma. Was this all a joke?”
“No.”
“So technically, as my boyfriend, you just stood there while the entire school gawked at me?” Light, cutting laughter I don’t even recognize slips out from my lips. It’s edgy, confident, and super pissed off.
James raises his hands in surrender. “Listen, I’ve never been a ‘boyfriend’ before. I get it—I failed.”
“Do you want out?” I sigh. “Because this is the time to do it. Dump me and I’ll be pleased to be a lowly feeder-grower on the bottom of the social food chain. In fact, I want to be there—where no one will notice me.”
“Edelweiss, have you seen yourself? You looked pretty before, but now? Shit. Emma’s evil plan unwillingly elevated you to the hottest girl in school. Not like you needed the help. You’ve got everyone’s interest wrapped around your finger because you’ve proved you’ve got guts. I like that about you.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I try to fight it off. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m supposed to be pissed off.”
“No one’s ever told you you’re hot before? My God, where were you living before Brockmore?”
“Monaco, across the street from the Prince Albert II.”
“Rich community.”
“And old. The youngest person I knew was in their mid-thirties.”
“You didn’t get out much.”
“Not without my mother
as a chaperone.”
“How’d you convince them to loosen their grip so you could come to Brockmore?” He looks at me, then sighs in exasperation when I don’t answer. “Listen, we need to get to know each other now, or we’ll never survive tomorrow. Sit down. I’m not going to bite you.” He reaches those long legs across the room to snag my desk chair, pulling it out for me.
Reluctantly, I take the seat.
“If we’re going to have each other’s backs, we need details so people can’t pick us apart.”
I glance over at the black Moleskine journal on my dresser.
“Your diary?” he asks.
“Not exactly. It’s a list of sorts.” I pick it up. “It took me six months to convince my parents to let me come to Brockmore. This helped, and don’t laugh or I’ll call the headmistress and have your ass hauled out of here.” I wait for him to nod before I hand it over. “It’s all the things I need to experience in order to survive college.”
He rolls his lips in while he reads the first page. “Number one: fall in love and break up. Don’t know many girls who would add the break up part.”
“My mom wrote that. My folks insisted that my list for college prep be balanced between academics and real life.”
“That’s completely opposite of what most parents think. I see you already achieved number three, being on student council.”
“Not yet. I signed up to run, but the student body has to vote me in. After what Emma pulled tonight, I doubt that’ll happen.”
“Nah.” He hands the notebook back to me, and I can’t help but appreciate him for not flipping past the first page. “Don’t underestimate Brockmore. Everyone knows Emma goes off the deep end. If anything, this will help you.”
“I guess we’ll find out on Friday.”
James turns the chair around and rests his chin on top. “Weird,” he says.
“What?”
“Talking with you isn’t like talking to anyone here at Brockmore. At least not for me.” He reaches back, massaging his neck.
“How so?”
“That I have yet to figure out.”
“Fair enough. So tell me about you. What’s really up with you and Emma? How long did you date?”
His gaze drops to the floor. “You don’t date Emma. She’s a tornado.”
“Yeah.” My hand naturally floats up to my cropped hair. It’s violating, but I can’t let it freak me out. There are far worse things in the world. A shiver runs up my back as my mind goes there, remembering the girl my own age with dark-brown eyes featured behind a window.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I hop off the edge of my bed and pace the room, trying to shake her haunting image. Mom and Dad never intended for me to see the sex-trafficking district that night, yet I’ll never forget it. “What’s your Dad like?”
“He’s had a tight yet distant grip on me since my mother died.”
I nod, acknowledging that my parents shared Colonel Parson’s story with me a few times through my life. I don’t exactly remember the first time I heard about their friend who lost his wife right after childbirth, but it’s a story I’ve always known.
James continues. “Last May he was so disappointed in me and my attitude toward…well, everything. Seeing his expression was one of the worst things I ever had to look at. He’s a great man, though. If I could be half the man he is, I’d be pleased with myself.”
“That’s admirable.”
James lifts those eyes to mine. “I think we can make our plan work, Edelweiss. Tonight I screwed up, and I’m sorry. This is all new territory for me.”
“I don’t want you to leave Brockmore.” I lean against my mattress and grab a pillow for my lap.
“Thank you. Plus, this way you can at least have some evidence to show your folks that you’re working toward number one on your list.” He raises his eyebrows, glancing at my journal.
“Oh. When my mom knows about you, she’ll flip out.”
“I hope in a good way.” He gets off the chair to lean against Tuti’s closet door.
“She will love the idea that I’m dating you. I’ll barely have to say anything about us because her imagination will do the rest. So how do we repair what happened tonight?”
“I’ll tell people you laid into me, but you’re giving me one more chance. But…” He grabs Tuti’s yellow notepad off her desk. “We need rules. Black-and-white regulations that I can follow so I don’t screw this up again.”
I tug the pillow into my chest. “Number one, do not just stand there when your girlfriend is getting attacked or ridiculed.”
“Yeah.” He winces as he writes it down, sitting back down in the chair. “What else? I should probably sit with you at least one meal a day, don’t you think?”
I nod. “But not all of them. I don’t want my whole world to be you, no offense.”
“Agreed. I don’t want people to think I’m whipped.”
“How about we eat dinner together?”
“Deal. Also, you need to make a T-shirt with my jersey number on it to wear to my games and show up at the wall outside of the locker room afterward.” He holds up a hand. “Trust me, I know it’s misogynistic and stupid, but it’s sort of an unspoken rule at Brockmore that good girlfriends are there.”
Sounds boring but whatever. I’ll read or something. “I can do that.”
“Now what about the physical stuff? Unfortunately, people are going to doubt us if all I’m doing is walking you to class. I thought we could get away with hand-holding, but I’m pretty sure people will catch on if that’s it.”
I shift. “I’m really not into PDA.”
“It’s way more fun to do than watch.” He leans back, pressing his hands into his neck. Ha. That ego is so not going to work here. I pick up my foot and brace it before I give his chair a good shove, sending him rolling into the desk and knocking his elbow.
“Ow. This is going to bruise.” He massages the elbow with a half-cracked smile.
“Good.”
With a slow whistle, he scoots his chair closer to me. “And no apology from the ambassador’s daughter.”
“Not tonight.” He failed me today. Even though our relationship is supposed to be fake, the structure of supporting each other and being each other’s excuses is supposed to be there. “So can we skip making out?”
“With my track record it would probably bring on more suspicion if they don’t catch us making out at least once a week.” He glances up at me. “But listen, they can just be suspicious if you aren’t comfortable with it. Hell, we don’t ever have to actually kiss. Just make it look like we have been.”
“Okay. I can do that.” My heartbeat doubles. At least, I think I can. “Stepping out of a dark corner together?”
“Add a little messed-up hair and that should do the trick. Of course, pecks on the cheek will have to be public.”
“I can handle that.”
“Also, at my games you need to be over the top. Probably good if you give me a peck on the cheek during halftime.” He scribbles the items down vigorously. “Probably should text you in class or in front of the football team every so often too. Maybe send daily email update so we know what’s going on in each other’s lives?”
“Or during all the hand-holding and class walking, we could actually talk.” I toss my pillow at him while he scribbles on the pad.
Of course he doesn’t even have to look up to snatch it out of the air.
“So that’s how people do it.” He winks then tucks his pen between his teeth. “Yup. This list screams perfect couple to me.”
“And Emma?”
“She won’t try anything like this again. Trust me on this one.” The chair squeaks while he stands.
“You say you’ve moved on, but the entire school keeps talking about you two.”
“I have moved on. You don’t have to worry about that. And as for the school? We’ll change the conversation. From here on out I’m upping my game, and my focus is on yo
u. I’ve never failed at anything before tonight, Edelweiss, and I swear to you it’ll never happen again.”
“Thanks.”
He nods toward the window. “I’ve got to get climbing. Mr. Davvy checks our curfew head count in about ten minutes and—don’t tell anyone—heights scare the daylights out of me. I move like a sloth on these edges compared to you.”
“Really?”
“I never thought you’d make it to the lounge before me.” A cool breeze brushes my shoulders a moment after he opens the window.
“Hugging the side of the building in my bra and underwear gave me a little motivation to move fast.”
“Maybe I’ll try it in my boxers next time.”
“Tell me how that works out for you.” I pull what’s left of my hair back, but it doesn’t make it anywhere close to a ponytail. His eyebrow lifts as I do it. “What?”
“Nothing.” He chuckles, glances at the ground, and then those eyes capture mine, the golden flecks dancing with energy. “How about I meet you after breakfast near the stairs?”
“I’ll be there.”
He swings a leg out the window with a cockeyed grin. “Edelweiss?”
“Yeah?”
“Your hair looks hot. Don’t let Emma cut you down. She’s not worth your mental energy, trust me on this one.”
The moment I close the window behind him, I have to sit down. My face feels too warm, far surpassing my normal blush. My breath begs to be steadied, but even as I start my pranayama exercises, I see his eyes. Feel his smile.
Okay. That’s not working. I get up and pace the room. So what if I blush a bit when he compliments me. Hearing I’m pretty just isn’t something I’m used to. The blushing will pass once we fall into a routine. He’s a nice, honest guy who happens to be my fake boyfriend.
Nothing more.
Chapter Ten
James
Brockmore’s Friday night movie tradition is one of the reasons I love it here. There’s seriously nothing like settling into my favorite seat in the lecture hall after a long game with my arm around a girl in a dark corner. It’s an opportunity to zone out, whether it’s staring at a screen or losing myself in a pair of lips for the rest of the evening.
I glance at the clock while I dress after my shower. The film should have started by now.
It Had to Be You Page 8