I think of Dave for a moment. Yes. I could live forever without seeing Dave’s bare chest.
“No, they were very ordinary,” I say.
“Damn.”
I laugh at her disappointment.
“Okay, more about Xander the Philanderer. Did he flirt with you? He supposedly flirts with anyone in a skirt, you know.”
I feel my defences rise a bit with that comment. Which, based upon his past and what the tabloids have written about him, is a fair one.
But one that is no longer true, I think.
Not that I can be proof-positive about that, as I’m not around him twenty-four hours a day, but the Xander I know wants to be a different man than what he was.
And I believe him.
“No, he didn’t,” I lie, thinking of the sexy notes we exchanged at the counter.
“Hmm. Probably because you were the clerk.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so flattering.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Now, was he even better looking in person?”
I close my eyes, envisioning everything about him. “Yes, he is. He’s handsome in magazines and on TV, but much more so in person.”
“I knew it!” Eva says. “How long did you spend with him?”
“Not long, maybe ten minutes.”
“Your one and only brush with fame,” she says.
Oh, if she only knew. Eva would absolutely lose her head if she knew what my plans were for tomorrow night!
“All my friends are so jealous of you right now,” she continues.
I stifle a yawn. My days of not sleeping much are catching up with me tonight.
“Speaking of your friends, why aren’t you out with them, anyway? Isn’t there some pub with a special where you can get drunk for cheap?” I tease.
“You act like all I do is pub-crawling.”
“When your Connectivity Story Share shows me something different, I’ll ask you about it.”
“Remind me to block you.”
I laugh. “But you won’t.”
“I might hide posts from you.”
“Empty threat.”
Now, Eva laughs. “Yes, it is.”
“So what’s going on at St. Andrews?” I ask.
Eva takes that prompt and runs with it. My little sister is like me—she can speak in long narratives—but unlike me, she doesn’t notice when someone else isn’t interacting much. So I let her go, saying “um-hum” in intervals, and keep my eyes closed. Lord, I’m so tired. I decide to rest with my eyes closed until I’m done with this phone call. Then I’ll peel my mask and settle in for sweet dreams of Xander Wales.
Oh, that will be sweet indeed, I think dreamily.
* * *
Ouch.
Why does my cheek hurt?
I open my eyes, and as I do, I realise something is poking it. My skin is so tight. And hot. It feels like a sunburn. Why is that?
I look around, finding myself on the sofa in the living room. My phone is jammed up against the side of my face, poking into my cheek as I lie on my side.
I remember talking to Eva and …
Blimey, I must have fallen asleep. I grab my phone and look at it. Then gasp.
What? It’s midnight? How did that happen? Eva, at some point, must have discovered I was asleep, because she hung up. But good Lord, I’ve been asleep for hours.
I roll over onto my back and wince. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow, as sleeping on this slab will create misery in my body. But what is wrong with my face? It’s taut, as if someone is pulling on it. More concerning, as I awake further, I realise it feels like it’s on fire. I put my hand up to my nose, and I feel crust. Oh! Oh no, oh no, oh no!
It’s the charcoal mask.
I grab my phone and swipe open the camera. I set it for a selfie, and as soon as I appear on the screen, I shriek in horror.
The mask is now cemented to my face.
“Shit!” I cry. I leap off the sofa, running up the stairs and straight to the bathroom. Shit, shit, shit. That’s the short-circuit thought in my brain now.
I pull the cord for the lights, and oh, it’s worse under the fluorescents. I grab the tube, re-reading the instructions for use—apply to clean skin, thick layer, blah blah—then my stomach sinks when I read the next bit:
Leave on skin for a maximum of thirty minutes.
Underneath my charcoal mask, I think I just went white with fear.
I continue reading:
After fifteen minutes, check to see if the mask is dry.
Well, I can tick that box, I think wryly. I continue:
DO NOT LEAVE THE MASK ON FOR MORE THAN THIRTY MINUTES, AS