Anyone who believes that needs a serious reality check.
“Oh, they have it in blue.” Jeannine lifted the top, which was identical as the other just in a different color, to her chest and waited for my opinion.
Considering she and Tiffany knew each other prior to this show, I tried my best to avoid as much interaction with her as possible. If anyone knew enough to question Tiffany Lewis’s personality change, it’d be her. The only thing that gave me confidence was the fact that they had a very surface-level friendship, if you could even call it that. It seemed more like a long-time acquaintance to me, which meant I didn’t have to be nasty to her. The easiest and smartest thing to do was to ignore her. And there was no better or more natural reason to ignore someone than being on your phone.
My best friend was a genius.
Knowing she wouldn’t buy it anyway, I shrugged and said, “Much better than the other one. But you should probably find something to wear over it so your arms aren’t showing.” There was nothing wrong with Jeannine’s arms, but I wouldn’t put it past my sister to find something about them to pick apart.
Just then, Serenity approached me with a pair of dark jeans. “I saw these and thought they’d look good on you. They’re stretchy denim, so you shouldn’t have a problem.”
I could handle Jeannine and Lauren just fine, but this broad was a different story. She had a way of turning everything she said into an insult, except she did so in a friendly, loving tone while smiling like she thought the world of you. This was only the second time I’d been around her, and I still wasn’t sure if she was intentionally rude or just completely unaware that her words, sweetly spoken or not, were hurtful. It was incredibly difficult to ignore.
I took the hanger from her hand and checked the label in the back of the jeans. “These aren’t even my size.”
Confusion lined her forehead for a moment as she scanned my body up and down with her eyes. Then she looked right at me and asked, “Oh, do you need me to get you a bigger size?”
Either she was the world’s best actress, or she was dumber than a box of rocks.
“Bigger? No. I would need something smaller.” Realizing that I’d responded more like myself than my sister, I cocked my hip, handed her back the hanger, and with a smile as phony as I could make it, said, “You must’ve grabbed these for yourself.”
Her sweet stare instantly turned into a heated glare, which made me believe that she wasn’t dumb. Serenity knew exactly what she was doing. But man, she was good at it. I had to give the woman props. She could certainly fake being nice better than I could fake being mean.
Maybe she could give me a couple of tips.
“Watch your back with that one,” Jeannine muttered out of the side of her mouth as she sidled up next to me. “She won’t hesitate to put a knife in it. Just ask any of her three ex-husbands. They’ll tell you. The moment she doesn’t need you anymore, you’re out with yesterday’s trash.”
I nodded while keeping my eyes on Serenity, who was with Lauren on the other side of the shop. Conveniently, the cameras were on Jeannine and me. “All right. Umm…thanks for that piece of advice.”
My phone vibrated in my hand. While Jeannine carried on talking about Serenity behind her back—about how Serenity talks about others behind their backs; the irony—I turned my attention to the text that just came through.
I expected it to be from Dave, but to my surprise, it was from Jacoby.
Jacoby: I can’t stop thinking about you.
Had my cheeks not started to ache, I would’ve been oblivious to the massive grin I had on my face. Quickly biting my bottom lip to hide my reaction, I glanced around me to ensure no one noticed.
Even though it was risky, I responded anyway.
Me: What a coincidence, because I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Jacoby: Well, you should probably stop. You’re supposed to be a soul-eating monster. No one will believe you’re Tiffany if you’re walking around with stars in your eyes and little red hearts floating out of your ears.
Me: Little red hearts? Not even close.
As soon as I hit the little blue send button, I started to overthink my response. I equated hearts with love, so all I was trying to say was that I didn’t love him. But maybe he’d meant it differently. Obviously, there’s no love between us. We were still getting to know one another. But there was definitely like. A strong like. And maybe even a little infatuation on my side. So if all he meant by it was attraction or affection or infatuation, I just basically told him hell no.
I scrambled to fix it.
Me: Maybe purple hearts tho.
My attention was transfixed on the bouncing speech bubbles on the screen. It wasn’t until his text came through that I even realized I’d held my breath. With a long sigh of relief, I read his response, not at all paying attention to anything around me.
Jacoby: Why purple? What does that mean?
Me: Red equals love. We’re not there yet. I’d say we’re more in the purple heart stage. It’s more than a crush but less than the real deal.
He read my message but didn’t respond. There were no bouncing bubbles to indicate that he was typing, either. I stood with my back to a display of dress pants and a mannequin on my
