Hearing about Mia’s sexual exploits is liberating, but I’d never talk so openly about sex myself. It’s not that I don’t have sexy thoughts or fantasies—I just can’t imagine ever acting on them. At this rate, I’ll die a virgin.
“You really should buy one,” she says.
“Huh?”
“A vibrator,” she says. “Actually, I can give you a spare…”
“Borrowing an outfit is one thing, but I draw the line at sharing sex toys.”
She throws an unopened plastic box my way. “A brand-new bullet, never used. Consider it an early birthday present.”
“If my parents found it?—”
“They won’t,” she insists. “It’s tiny, so I’m sure you can hide it. You’ll be thanking me later.”
I slip it into my backpack to avoid an argument, but vow to throw it away later. It being discovered isn’t worth the risk. I don’t want to be branded a sex addict and forced to attend some of Dad’s colleagues’ group therapy sessions. I’ve already sat through countless sessions in Sarah’s absence. Despite patient confidentiality, everything I said somehow found its way back to Dad.
“Found it.” Mia holds up a black dress. It’s more understated than all of her previous suggestions. “Thoughts?”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“Try it on then.”
I wriggle the dress on. Although it’s tight, the fabric stretches effortlessly, and it’s buttery smooth. It’s an off-the-shoulder cut with long sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that shows a tasteful amount of cleavage.
“You look hot, but it’s missing something…” She scratches her chin then proceeds to find a studded belt and a velvet choker. “That’s better. It gives me Princess Di’s revenge dress energy with an edge. Very you.”
I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I slowly rotate to check myself out in the mirror. It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress like this. It matches my makeup: a natural soft glam look with silver eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, and neutral lips.
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” I ask nervously, noticing how tightly the dress clings to my ass.
“This isn’t just any old high school party where you wear jeans and chug kegs in the middle of some forest,” she says. “This is a Theobald party. Trust me, this is enough.”
As well as being Mia’s boyfriend, Oliver Theobald is Nate’s best friend and, quite possibly, the richest guy at Stonybridge Academy. His dad founded a major software firm that sold for an eye-watering amount. With his fortune, he bought a giant plot of land and built the famous Theobald mansion.
“I feel like we’re going to the Oscars or something,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Does my hair look okay?”
My brown hair flutters around my collarbones in loose, gentle waves that will probably fall out by the end of the night. Compared to Mia, I look positively plain. She’s donning a white leotard with a glittering gold mesh dress layer over the top, which flaunts her sculpted long legs and gorgeous figure. With her dangling gold earrings, hair piled on top of her head, and bright red lips, she looks like a celebrity.
“Stop worrying. You look perfect,” Mia insists. “This is your debut to the Stonybridge social scene. You need to make an impact. Nate’s going to love it.”
Nervous and excited butterflies flutter in my stomach. “I don’t know about that.”
Mia holds her phone out. “Let’s take a picture.”
“Fine,” I say. Her enthusiasm is infectious. “But don’t post it anywhere.”
I avoided going on social media for months after Sarah’s disappearance. Seeing her face splashed all over the internet alongside theories about what happened to her was too difficult. Every day, new posts appeared about people claiming they’d seen her in Wyoming, Ohio, Australia, and even Iceland. Not to mention the trolling…
“My ten thousand followers would eat up your beautiful face, but fine,” she says. “Just get over here already.”
We make a few jokey poses for the camera. Mia wraps a pink feather boa around my neck, and I sneeze while she kisses me on the cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. This is the most normal I’ve felt in… well, I can’t remember. We giggle, and the heavy pressure that weighs on me most days lightens for a moment.
Is this how being eighteen is supposed to feel? Maybe this is why Sarah ran away. Did she want to chase this feeling of freedom? Despite a year passing, I still have no answers. Stepping outside of my comfort zone and into the world Sarah lived in could help me find them, or I’ll learn that some secrets are best buried…
CHAPTER
THREE
