“Yeah. It was Clem.” She sits cross-legged opposite me on the couch, still pumped up from the call, her eyes shining and a wide smile on her face. “Vanshionista’s collection is named after me. Clem’s dress is going to be the showstopper.” Mere taps on her phone and turns it toward me.
My pulse shoots as a photo of Clementine fills her screen, standing next to a redheaded model wearing an emerald dress.
“I was her inspiration,” Mere says, barely hiding the pride in her voice. “Clem has promised me she’ll make something much more amazing for my actual prom.”
The way her gaze holds mine, it feels like she’s trying to tell me much more than just about her dress.
I take her phone in my hands and look at my tenant. Dressed in a silver gown, hair in a tight bun and more makeup on her face than I’ve ever seen, she looks like a siren.
“Clementine looks like a model, no?”
She does, but this is nothing compared to how she looks dressed in a nightshirt, disheveled hair, sipping her favorite cinnamon latte in my kitchen.
That’s the girl who makes me crazy.
31
CLEMENTINE
Glancing at my reflection in the lavish bathroom of the hotel room, I admire myself for a second before removing the dangling feather silver earrings. After unzipping the silver gown and pulling it down my body, I finally get out of the high heels.
When my bare feet touch the warm floor, I sigh in relief before getting back to loosening my hair. I give one last look to my face in the mirror. My eyes too large with smoky eye makeup, my lips too pouty with a shining lip gloss, my cheeks too perfect, thanks to the highlighter.
After I throw away the used makeup wipes, which are no longer white but a painting in themselves with colors of beige, black, red, and blue littered all over, I peer back in the mirror.
This is me. The me I feel.
Eyes too hollow, dark circles on full display, cheeks sunken. I look pale, bony. How is this possible in one week?
My phone buzzes on the granite countertop and my heartbeat accelerates.
Is it him?
I can’t focus on anything else since his text.
With trembling hands, I pick up my phone. It’s Ann.
“Clementine, where did you go?” Ann’s voice is muffled by loud background noise.
“I just returned to my room.”
“Really! But it’s too early. We’re all are going for dinner, won’t you join us?”
“Um…Ann, I’m not feeling very well.” I bite my lip, hating to lie to him. “Why don’t you guys go ahead, and I’ll join you next time?”
“You have been saying that for a week now. Come on, once the fashion week starts, we won’t get any time to relax.”
“I promise… I’ll join you next time.”
“Okay, see you in the morning, then. Ciao.”
It’s a few more days of preparation before the actual fashion week starts, after which we’ll return to St. Peppers.
A day I’m dreading since I left. How can I live with Merida and Keith, knowing what I know now?
Mere thinks I’m some sort of angel, sent by her mom to rescue her family. But she doesn’t know, I’m nothing but a lost person, trying to find my own groove in the world.
Then there is Keith, whose love for his wife is beyond this world. I’m equally jealous and sad for Melanie. How lucky was she to have such a true love?