Page 5

That might help, if I weren’t already using her Netflix. With a plastic surgeon for a father and a divorce lawyer for a mother, Nicole has no clue what it’s like to live on a budget. Mom barely gets by on the meager salary she earns taking temperatures and collecting pee samples in a gynecologist’s office, without taking a dime of support from Dad. According to Mom, accepting his money would be admitting she can’t survive without him. And there’s no way in hell she’ll do that. Not that I blame her. Dad flashes cash around as if money fixes everything.

For the record, it doesn’t. No amount of money can put a broken heart back together. Not even if you’re a world-renowned cardiologist. Still, it would be nice not to have to stretch every dollar until it snaps.

“Surely your mom can make an exception for something as important as your virginity.”

“Have you seen how she dresses? When I say she’s cheap, I mean she’s broke. She literally buys all her clothes at the thrift store. She won’t fork out the cash for fancy underwear when she’s convinced the bargain stuff’ll do the trick. She may secretly want me to join Hymens Anonymous, but her idea of high fashion will pretty much guarantee I die a virgin.”

“I see your dilemma.” Nicole gnaws on her plump bottom lip. “You could always swallow your pride and ask your dad for—”

“No.” I suck in a quick breath, and my shoulders stiffen. Asking my dad for anything is out of the question. “That’s not even up for discussion.”

“Understood.” Nicole nods, darting her dark eyes back to the rack. “What about a part-time job? I know your parents didn’t want you working during the semester before everything went down . . . but under the circumstances, you might need to rethink that position.”

Nicole’s right. Refusing Dad’s help in solidarity seemed like a solid plan until reality hit. Even with all the money I made over summer break, I can barely cover my car insurance and phone bill, let alone next semester’s tuition. But my grades will undoubtedly suffer if I take on much more on top of the heavy class load I’m carrying. And without Dad’s money, I’ll need to land an academic scholarship to pay next year’s tuition. And even with that, I’ll need to pinch every penny I can to cover housing.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” She pays rapt attention to a bra too big for either of us before letting it fall to the side and turning back to me. “Until then, I have a credit card. I could—”

“Forget it.” I stop that train of thought with a shake of my head. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” She stomps her foot like a spoiled kindergartener—and at barely five foot one, she isn’t much taller than one. When we were kids, she used her temper like a weapon to score us extra ice cream and convince our moms to let us stay up late when we had sleepovers. We might not have siblings, but we’ve always had each other. At ten we took a solemn vow to be BFFs forever, and not even a decision as monumental as where to go to college could separate us.

“Because.” I sigh. “You can’t bail me out whenever I run into a sticky situation.”

“I can afford a few pairs of—”

“I need to do this myself.”

With a low grumble, Nicole concedes. “Fine. I guess working within a budget isn’t the worst thing in the world. If you get a few pairs for the weekends and maybe another for during the week . . .”

“Good point. I don’t have to wear the good stuff every day.” I shift my focus to finding a few staples for my wardrobe. My goal isn’t to single-handedly bring sexy back, but I’m not a kid anymore, either. I’ve outgrown the Underoos.

“And it’s not like you’d flash anyone in your coding class. That would be a complete waste of sexy underwear.”

I snicker, picturing the nerd squad occupying the front row in Professor Golding’s class.

Nicole’s lips tremble as she waves a hand in front of my face. “These are not the Pythons you’re looking for.”

Her serious expression cracks, and we both dissolve into hysterics.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You love me anyway.” She grins, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye and smudging her perfect cat’s-eye liner. “And when you do find Mr. Right—or at the very least, Mr. Right Now—you’ll be good to go!”

With a lacy red thong dangling from two fingers, I smirk. “And as every self-respecting Delta Sig knows, it pays to be prepared.”

Nicole grabs the matching bra in my size and thrusts it into my other hand. “And sexy doesn’t come cheap.”

“Right.” I swallow the lump in my throat, kicking the money can down the road for now.

Keeping up with the Kardashians isn’t cheap, but like my dad used to say, nothing worth having comes without a cost. In his case, the cost of happiness included the wife and daughter he left behind when he ran off with his intern. Except for the five minutes he spent at my birthday dinner, I haven’t seen him in more than six months.

I should have my head examined for even considering it, but . . . “Maybe Mom’s right.”

“About punching your v-card?” Nicole has no volume control, drawing the attention of two older women at the next display.

I cringe as the women glare at us. “Can you not broadcast my predicament to the whole town?”