9781250209153

candy cane-striped bottoms. The only sound is the heavy thwap of our
damp bathing suits hitting the floor. My heart won’t stop thumping in my
neck.
Just as I’m pulling my hair out of my shirt, Irene clears her throat.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
She turns around. Her eyes flicker briefly over my pajamas, but she
doesn’t say anything, just gathers her toiletry bag. I stay quiet as she slips
out of the room.
I’m not going to wash my face or brush my teeth alongside her, so I plop
down on the bed and wait. I glance at her phone lying innocently on the
bedside table and try to imagine what her pass code might be. I tell myself
it’s probably 666, but the joke doesn’t amuse me the way it normally would.
It’s been a weird, confusing night.
The last person I shared a bed with was Tally. It was summertime and
her parents were out of town. We held each other beneath the sheets, and
my heart pulsed at every touch of her skin. But that was months ago—long
before she made out with another girl at a party, long before I set up a
dating ruse to make her jealous.
Would I have rejected her for having garlic breath tonight? I know the
answer immediately: No. I loved her too much.
But would she have rejected me?
“I knew you were the type to fall asleep without brushing your teeth
first. Gross.”
Irene comes swooshing back into the bedroom, her loose pajama shirt
hanging over her black joggers. I swallow down the unexpected emotion in
my throat and try to level a retort her way.
“Are you wearing a retainer?” I shoot back. “God. Please don’t breathe
in my direction tonight.”
“I’m sure you’ll smother me with a pillow if I do. You’d better hurry if
you want to beat Honey-Belle. She takes forever in the bathroom.”
I grab my things and hustle out of the room, glad for an excuse to be
alone again. I use the spare toothbrush Honey-Belle gave me, noticing how
Irene has squeezed the toothpaste so it perfectly curls at the empty end.