nose clean and your legs closed.
Frustrated tears dot my lashes and hurt grips my heart. A mother should support her child, fight for them. A mother should be a child’s number one advocate, and mine... she threw me under the bus in favor of keeping her rich and shiny lifestyle.
“Emmy, you okay?” Stella asks.
I sniffle. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were done showering.”
“Just got out.” She looks at me hard, studying my face. “You sure you’re okay?”
I shrug. “I will be.”
“Well, you’re in luck! I know just the thing to take your mind off of whatever’s got you down.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes! I’m going to do your makeup!” Her smile is megawatt and her tone pure joy.
Who am I to pop her bubble? “Sounds great, Stell.”
If possible, her smile grows wider. “You called me Stell! A nickname. We really are besties now!”
“And we weren’t before? Rude.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me get dressed and then it’s on!”
“Okay.” I click off the television and haul myself up from the couch. “Want me to come to your room when I’m done?”
“Yes. Oh! Wait!” Stella holds up a finger and then darts into her room. She returns before I can so much as blink. “Wear this.”
“What is it?” I shake out the silky material and grin when I see what she’s handed me. “Where did you get this?”
“Zach had them made.”
I snort out a laugh and clutch the jersey to my chest. “Of course he did.”
“Just wait until you see them all together.”
“Oh, God.”
Stella shoos me into my room, where I change into my jersey. I layer it over a white turtleneck, also from Stella, and pair it with distressed jeans and my favorite knee-high boots.
“You’re not going to do anything crazy, right?” I ask, stepping into Stella’s room.
We’re dressed similarly, except she’s wearing Uggs and a royal blue zip-up jacket over her jersey.
“Of course not.” She pats the seat of her desk chair. “Now, sit.”
Stella gets to work, slathering my face with God only knows what. Before Rob, I loved makeup, but now, I typically stick to the basics. It makes me wonder how far Stella will try and push.
After about fifteen minutes, she steps back and appraises her work. “Perfect.”
“Can I look?”
She passes me a mirror, and I’m pleasantly surprised with the outcome. I look like a slightly more polished version of me, but with my eyes painted Wildcat gold and lined in Central Valley’s signature blue. She even drew a little paw print on my right cheek.
“I love it.”
She beams. “Give me twenty and we’ll head out.”
“It’s a beautiful day for some ball,” Stella says as we step outside.
“Cold though,” I mutter, rubbing my hands together for a little warmth.
“You’ll get used to it.” She links her arm with mine. “Where are we meeting Zach again?”
“He said at the wildcat statue.”
“Perfect.” She tilts her head to look at me. “You think any of his friends are single?”
I laugh under my breath. “You’re so boy crazy.”
Stella scoffs. “False. I’m only a little boy crazy. You would be too, if you were me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get laid with an older brother as protective as mine? Orion is like a freaking pit-bull with Spidey senses. Impossible! Hence how I’m still a freaking virgin!”
“Deep breaths, girl. You’re not going to die with your V-card.”
“I just wanna know what it’s like, you know?”
I try to inhale, but it’s as if there’s an anvil on my chest. “No, not really. My only experience was torture than anything else.”
“Oh, shit. Babe.” Stella stops and pulls me into a crushing hug. “I am so thoughtless. I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, mostly meaning it.
It’s not that I’m against sex or anything.
I’m just petrified by the thought of actually doing it, by the thought of ever willingly being so vulnerable with a man.
It’s really a moot point though, because after Rob, what man would want me anyway? I’m the definition of used goods.
“Twinkies!” Zach’s booming voice cuts through my melancholy. “Well, no. What do you call three twins?”
“Triplets,” Stella deadpans, making us all laugh.
“Seriously, these shirts are gold.” Zach’s grin is so infectious, I find myself cheesing right alongside him.
“We need a pic!” Stella exclaims, and Zach grabs a random passerby to snap one.
The front of our jerseys all read “Ooh that 99, he’s so fine” with a wildcat silhouette. The back has Gabe’s name across the shoulders in glittery gold block letters.
“They are perfect,” I say as we scroll through