26 Kisses - Anna Michels Page 0,12

other whenever our lives seem out of control and everyone else seems to have their shit together—which, for me at least, seems to happen about twice a week.

She rolls her eyes. “Totally. You were practically married to one guy for two years, and I’ve never actually had a boyfriend. Most people shoot for the happy medium.” Mel shakes my arm gently until I meet her gaze. “Just think about what I said.” She smiles. “Maybe this summer could be your chance.”

Before I can respond, someone knocks on my bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

The door flies open, and my mom bounds in, bursting with an annoying amount of energy, as usual. “Seizing the day early, girls?” She’s wearing a pair of my athletic shorts, which ride up just a little too far on her thighs, and one of her special hand-painted T-shirts—this one has a giant parrot on it. An earbud dangles from her shoulder.

“Always,” Mel says, turning and flashing my mom a smile. “Are you going running?”

“Oh no, I’m not a runner like Vee,” Mom says. I wince. I don’t feel like a runner at the moment, standing here with an enormous hangover, clutching a picture of my ex-boyfriend. “I’m doing Prancercise. Have you heard of it? It’s like jogging, but with more elation. My friend Cheryl and I just started last week.”

“Better get going, then,” I say, not letting my gaze drift over to the mound of clothes in the corner of my room, which I piled there specifically to hide my running shoes so I wouldn’t have to look at them. I haven’t touched them since the morning of Mark’s graduation, when we fit in a quick three miles together before he had to get ready for the ceremony. “Don’t want to be late.”

“That’s the thing,” Mom says. “Jeffrey wants to be picked up from your dad’s early so he can hang out with Kyle and Oliver. I told him you girls could go get him, but then I didn’t see your car in the driveway, Mel.”

Mel sets her guitar on the floor, and the strings twang. “Seth dropped us off. That’s okay, though, Mrs. Bentley. We can grab my car and get Jeffrey.”

I groan, but they both ignore me.

“You guys are the best,” Mom says. “Time to prance!” She gallops down the hallway, the floor shaking like the house is about to collapse.

Mel hops up and pulls her shorts on. “Okay, I’m ready.”

I reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting on my nightstand for three days and chug it in one gulp. “We’re going to have to get Seth to drive us back to your car, you know. He’s probably still asleep.”

Mel shakes her head in a tornado of curls. “No way. Seth never sleeps. He’s like a rechargeable battery—sit him down at the piano for an hour or two, and he’s good to go.” She looks at me hopefully. “Do you want to text him?”

I snort. “No way.” I haul myself out of my chair and stumble across the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as it will go and taking a giant swig from a bottle of mouthwash. Dad and his wife, Lila, are nearly as bad as Mel’s mom when it comes to sniffing out teenage shenanigans, and I really don’t need a lecture from them on underage drinking today.

The warmth of the shower soothes my hangover headache, and the overpowering mango shampoo ensures that I won’t smell like anything other than a fruit basket when Lila swoops in for one of her awkward hugs. I let the water run over my face and into my ears, wishing I could scrub the memory of last night from my brain.

After a quick blow-dry, I run back to my room, where Mel is texting furiously. “Seth will take us,” she says. “Although he is being a real butt about it. I guess he was sleeping.”

I pull a white skirt and navy blue top out of my closet—clothes more appropriate for a morning at church than a random summer day but that will pass Dad’s inevitable inspection and prevent any passive-aggressive comments from him. “Is that what you’re wearing?” I ask, gesturing at Mel’s ragged denim shorts and the wrinkly T-shirt she slept in.

“Sure.” She shoves her phone into her pocket and shrugs. “Your dad already hates me, so who cares?”

“He does not hate you. He just doesn’t understand your unique sense of style.” I grab my bag off the floor and remember my