Chapter 1

1

L IZ

Colorado

Wednesday

On campus

"Liz? Liz??"

The second time the woman bellows out my name, I walk at a slower pace, dragging my stare over the stretch of grass, checking the students in the alleys.

A few sit on the benches. No one is looking at me.

"Liz? I'm here," the woman shouts again.

I stop and flick my eyes over my shoulder and then up. Way up.

"Thea…?" I murmur incredulously.

She waves at me through the small opening of a large window at the end of the corridor on the second floor.

"Wait for me," she says, flashing a bright smile.

I do just that, grinning softly and standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway.

Eventually, I pull closer to the entrance of the building and expect her to walk out any moment now.

A red beanie catches my eye first. And then the woman who cuts her way through groups of people carrying backpacks and talking loudly.

"She gets more and more beautiful with every passing day," I murmur to myself, watching Thea push through the doors and take the stairs down.

"Hey," she says, a few feet away from me.

Every person in the space she quickly closes turns their head to witness our warm reunion.

It's like we haven't seen each other in years.

"Everything all right?" I ask, opening my arms for her.

We hug.

"Yeah, yeah…" she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

The sun coats her lashes and her lips with a warm glow that makes her look even more alive.

"Are you done for the day?" she asks, pushing her eyes down and checking my clothes.

I wear shaggy white jeans, a baggy red sweater, and a black headband with mouse ears.

She laughs, entertained,, and I smile at her amusement.

"You're crazy. Is that how you walk into class?"

Pulling my lower lip between my lips, I give her a silent grin.

"Mm-hmm."

Her eyes stall on the mane of hair tumbling down my back.

"Oh. You did it. You died your hair," she says, studying the result of an entire night's effort.

It took three bottles of red hair dye and a lot of testing before finally picking up the luscious dark red beautifully coating my hair now.

The pigment is dense and vibrant. It doesn't scream, yet doesn't go unnoticed either.

"Your eyes…" she says, going over the changes I have made.

"I used a thickening mascara and brushed my eyebrows."

Narrowing her eyes, she studies the sophisticated arch of my eyebrows.

"Did you use a new brush?"

"Nope. I used an old toothbrush."

The corners of her lips move up, her eyes capturing the entire sun.

"You're kidding me…" she says, laughing.

"No. I discovered this little known secret last night when I put on my makeup."

"Last night? Where did you go last night?"

Spontaneous, her question is not lined with morbid curiosity, yet it makes me feel like I've given myself away somehow.

My cheeks burn as I push down the lump in my throat.

"Nowhere, of course. I'm just getting ready for your wedding."

The spin works.

Her eyes glint with a smile, and the tension in my chest decreases. Lying through omission has been my favorite pastime lately.

"Oh… My wedding. Yes. Of course."

She loops her arm through mine, ready to move to a different topic.

"Have you had anything to eat today? I'm famished. Skipped the lunch to finish my day early," she says, eager to leave the campus and walk down the street.

"I could grab a bite," I say. "Pizza?"

"Pizza it is."

We set ourselves in motion.

"It's like the good old times," I comment, and she agrees, smiling. "How come your chauffeur isn't here?" I ask.

She tips her eyes down while I study her profile.

A pink fuzzy jacket highlights her complexion.

She wears lipgloss and diamond earrings, and a starched white collar peeks from underneath.

Short boots and white wool pants complete her look.

"He's here," she says. "You just don't see him."

Walking in step with her, I wait for her to lift her gaze.

She tilts her eyes to me.

"He never leaves me walk alone," she says, amused. "Ed would fire him if he did that."

"Your future husband is afraid of losing you?"

"Who wouldn't be, right?" she jokes.

A few moments pass as we stroll down the street, still connected.

Still wearing a smile.

"I'm really happy for you," I murmur. "Look how nice things have turned out."

"They have," she says, lost in thought. "Life does that sometimes, surprising you when you least expect it."

A few more seconds pass as we cross the street and head to a small pizza shop with striped awnings.

"Do you mind eating outside?" she asks, peeling off her beanie. "I'm hot," she adds.

"No, not at all."

The temperature is mild, and the air is crisp, but the sun warms us as we walk.

The hostess greets us and shows us to the terrace while a waitress wearing black pants and a white button down shirt inches closer to the table.

"What can I get you?" she asks, pulling the chairs out for us.

"Deep dish pizza for me," Thea says, not perusing the menu. "I'm craving stuff," she says to me before adding, "We can share."

"Sure. We'll do that."

"Anything to drink?" the woman asks, sliding the server notepad into her pocket.

"Soda for me," Thea says.

"And you?"

The woman looks at me.

"I'll get a soda too."

"And two sides of garlic bread," my cousin adds.

"Sure," the waitress says, smiling. "I'll be right back."

The garlic bread arrives quickly, to Thea's delight.

We're alone again when she pops a piece of garlic bread into her mouth and chews on it, satisfied with the taste.

"Now watch me not being able to get into my wedding dress."

She flashes a smile, poking fun at herself, and I wish I could be like her sometimes––take things lightly.

Terry told me I was too intense last night.

I was at her place, dying my hair and struggling to pick the right color.

She got suspicious at some point and questioned my entire process.

She had a hard time understanding why getting the right shade of red was so important to me.

I couldn't tell her the real reason behind my fussing––that the whole idea of coloring my hair had become a big thing after meeting David Moore. And there was that slight possibility that I might see him again.

‘I might see him again' is the right wording since I haven't heard from him these past few days.

And before getting into a war with the silly voice inside my head that does her best to keep me humble I need to clarify some things.

I'm not chained to my phone, waiting for him to call me.

I'm definitely not doing that.

I'm also not thinking we are a thing.

We are not a thing .

We may or may not see each other again. And even if we do, the color of my hair isn't only about him.

I'm invested in getting it right since I'm the flower girl at Thea's wedding, and my looks are important.

So it's not everything about David.

And it shouldn't be.

David is David.

An interesting man, but nothing more.

"Why are you smiling?"

Thea's voice pulls me out of my head, leaving me with a half–baked grin on my face.

"Smiling? Me? No. No one was smiling."

I pick up a garlic knot and pop it into my mouth, but regardless of how delicious it is, I can't focus on it.

" You are smiling," Thea says around her food, a grin splashed across her face. "What's so amusing?"

I clear my throat, unable to remove that stupid grin from my face. It's like lint on my favorite sweater. I can never get rid of it.

"Nothing."

"You were thinking about something," she insists.

"Yes, I was." I can admit to that. "But I don't remember what it was. Uh…"

"Yes?"

She's waiting for an elaborate answer, and I've got nothing.

"What were you thinking about?" she asks quietly, scooping up another garlic knot.

Luckily, the Chicago–style pizza arrives, and just like that, the smell of baked tomatoes mixed with herbs and a generous quantity of melted mozzarella simmering from the oven hovers over the table, erasing the last shred of weirdness from our conversation.

Her eyes flicker with delight, and I'm no better.

I didn't plan to eat pizza today.

In fact, I'm on a light diet… that has nothing to do with David but my dress.

No more David.

Or I'll have to come clean to her that her unscrupulous flower girl fucked her future husband's business partner.

Oh… I hope David is not Ed's best man.

He can't be.

"Who is Ed's best man?" I find myself asking.

Chewing on her food, she runs a napkin over her lips.

The soft paper soaks up a few drops of bright red tomato sauce.

"Is that what made you smile? My wedding?"

"No, no… No way I was thinking about your wedding."

She searches my eyes.

"Your wedding wouldn't make me smile," I comment.

"Good to know," she says with humor in her voice.

I let out a sigh.

"I can't get it right, can I?" I say. "I was thinking about my hair."

"I like your hair."

"I do too. That's why I smiled. I was so nervous that I'd get it wrong."

"Well, you didn't get it wrong. And Ed has two best men. How else? He couldn't pick just one."

"Please tell me it's James and Lex."

Her eyebrows go up.

"Who else could it be?"

"No one else, of course. That's what I thought."

Nerves thread through my laugh, and my voice isn't as steady and calm as I would like it to be.

Fortunately, Thea moves on.

"How is Chloe?" she asks.

"Chloe?" I murmur, and for a moment, I experience swirling panic again.

Yeah…

What about Chloe?

I've only heard from her once.

She called me on Monday.

She said she didn't feel well and wanted to rest. Maybe she was coming down with something.

She said.

Ugh.

What a horrible friend I am. I didn't call her on Tuesday. And I haven't called her today.

That's strange.

It's not like us not to keep in touch with each other.

Okay, so I forgot about her amidst the wedding preparations, but what's her excuse?

"Chloe is getting ready for the wedding, I suppose," I mumble, reaching inside my backpack and feverishly rifling through its contents.

"Here. Let's see what she's up to…" I say, swiping the phone screen and calling her.

She doesn't answer.

That is even more odd than not hearing from her all these days. Chloe's phone is like a precious pendant with sentimental value dangling from her neck at all times.

You'd need to extricate it with a forceps from her.

Although her phone habits might've changed, especially since she met that man.

That man…

Oh.

"She's not answering," I say.

Preoccupied, I place the phone on the table and show interest in my food again.