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The bed is an actual cloud Mrs. Davis lassoed down from the sky, I have no doubt. I guess the oil business isn’t a bad one to be in.
“Haarleey,” my roommate singsongs from the hallway. “You almost ready?”
She appears in my open doorway as I start putting on my worn Steve Maddens. She’s in a violet lacy crop top and high-waisted black jeans, appropriate for Texas in November. Her curls are enormous, and I feel like since we are in her hometown, she’s wearing them bigger than usual.
“Yep. Is this okay?” I ask.
She insisted, as usual, I wear something of hers to the music festival. She observes my ensemble of a white off-the-shoulder top and distressed, high-waisted acid-wash jeans. We are once again yin and yang, and we start to laugh.
“My parents just left for dinner. We’re just gonna take my Jeep since we’ll be splitting off afterward.” She’s looking down at her phone, a tiny smile on her face.
“Who are you texting?” I ask, grabbing my phone and some cash.
She jolts, clicking the screen off.
“Just some friends we’re going to meet up with.” She beams at me. “You should go with a bold pink lip. Oh! Hold up.” She races back to her room.
“I’m fine with these shoes!” I grumble, knowing what she's going to bring back.
She ignores me, returning with a tube of fuchsia lip stain and perfectly matching suede heels that look painful already.
“Ugh, I wanted to dance and feel my toes.”
She nods vigorously. “These are SO comfortable! You won’t believe how magical they feel on your feet. Just try them, please. Put them on when we get there, and leave your flats in the Jeep.”
She’s impossible to deny, so I nod begrudgingly. Her cheeks look like they should be in pain with how big she’s grinning.
It’s easier with Kenna because she knows nearly nothing about what happened in Carbona. She got a broken version of events where I basically told her that my foster mom wanted me to finish a modeling shoot, but I couldn’t because the artist wasn’t available to do the tattoo. I left out ninety percent of the embarrassing details.
It helps that her family treats me like I’m their long-lost daughter. Her mom insisted on taking us for mani-pedis on the first day we arrived in town. She presented us each with a new Kate Spade handbag “just because.” Every day since then, they’ve coddled us with anything we could even dream of asking for. Kenna got a haircut and highlights, insisting on me getting a much-needed trim.
I’ve begged them to let me pay for things, but they will hear none of it.
Dinner is phenomenal. We just finished a gourmet meal of roasted lamb and au gratin potatoes. I would’ve preferred brownies, followed by a burrito, but I’d never say it. We’re sitting near a roaring outdoor fireplace that’s heating our backs.
“Thank you so much for the meal. It was amazing,” I say to Mr. and Mrs. Davis as the server clears the last of the dishes.
“You have no choice. We’ve adopted you.” Mrs. Davis smiles warmly at me, her husband squeezing her hand.
I nod, my voice trapped.
Kenna saves me from having to give a choked response. “You’re my sister, no arguments. Well, we’re going to be late if we stay too long. Love you. Bye.” She stands, and I follow, still holding in the emotion.
“McKenna, you call an Uber if you decide to have a drink,” her father reminds her, concern in his tone.
“They won’t let us drink there, Dad,” she reassures him, leaving out the part about her fake ID.
She bends to give them hugs. I wave as we leave the restaurant, several men at the bar following us with their eyes. I check my phone, wishing I had a text and feeling a stab of disappointment that the screen is blank.
I’ve got to get over it.
He’s probably talking to a sweet, little country girl while I pine over him. No, he wouldn’t do that to me. He’s not that guy.
He is, more likely, listening to his mother give him warnings about all the dangerous prostitutes that lure you in on college campuses.
We’re already on our way to the concert when I turn to Kenna. “Can you just take me home? I really don’t feel like it tonight.”
Lying on the cloud bed pouting is all I want to do. I can’t fathom dancing right now. My whole body feels heavy.
