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back and forth from the goodies to the ladies. “You ladies are in for a treat today! I’ve got cleansers, treatments, and makeup galore. I don’t know if you’re ready for all this,” I tease.

“We’d better be,” Hazel says. “If we’re not, we’ll probably die before it happens, so let’s get to it.”

My smile fades a bit. I don’t like to think about these people, who’ve all become my friends, dying and not being here for one of our ‘Get Fancy’ days. Hazel notices and pats my hand.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head about a thing, dear. We’re all fine and well aware of the passage of time. Like now, for example. We need to get this show on the road or we won’t be done in time for dinner. I’ve got my eyes on a fella and want to look a little extra fancy, if you know what I mean?” She gives me a wink, one penciled-in eyebrow dipping saucily with the movement. “Do you have any more of that red lipstick from last month? The one Mildred said made us look like whores walking the street? I think I need some of that today.” She shimmies her shoulders, and I blink in surprise. And confusion. Hazel is a sweet, kind grandmother of ten who mostly misses baking cookies for her family. And apparently looking like a streetwalker with Kim Kardashian-like lips.

I look to Arielle, but she’s doing her best to hold back giggles. She offers me a shrug of ‘Whatcha gonna do’ before she goes back to straightening up the hair station’s curling irons, hair spray, and curl creams. I once brought a straightener for them to try out, but the ladies all like their hair curled and sprayed to within an inch of its life with mass quantities of Aqua Net that turn their hair into crunchy helmets. They’d be walking, talking tiki torches if someone got too close with a lit cigarette. But I guess that’s how they did it in their younger days, and that’s what makes them feel beautiful, which is what I’m here to do.

“I want to do up my eyes today,” Mabel, one of the other ladies, says. “Do you have any of that eye cream again, Riley, darling?”

“Of course,” I tell her as I start to unload everything, laying it on the table like a big buffet of colorful candy. Or eye candy, at least. “Let’s have fun, ladies!”

Arielle helps some of the residents who are a little more shy or not as dexterous anymore, and I hang back, answering questions and making recommendations when needed.

“Here’s your lipstick, Hazel,” I say, handing her the tube ironically labeled Hot Harlot. “And your eye cream, Mabel.” Thankfully, it’s called Hydration Station and not anything too risqué, considering it’s a thick, white cream.

Oh, my goodness! What is wrong with me?

That kiss is what’s wrong with you!

I touch my lips, which still burn from Noah’s kiss. I’ve never been kissed like that. Like he wanted to possess me, own me, or maybe like he already does but is willing to give me a moment to realize it. The bad thing is . . . I already know it too well. But that doesn’t mean anything.

No matter how great the conversations have been.

No matter the connection I felt when we talked about everything and nothing.

No matter the fireworks shooting through my body when he kissed me and made me realize that maybe I’ve never been properly kissed.

Because he’s River’s best friend. And Arielle’s brother. And Noah Daniels.

I sigh, stepping back to let the ladies play with all the makeup. They’re giddy and excited, showing the small palettes to each other and complimenting one another’s attempts at eye shadow combinations.

Arielle notices, telling Bertha, “Keep going with the teasing, and I’ll be back to help with the hair spray in the back, m’kay?” Bertha does as instructed, expertly teasing her hair into a huge bouffant reminiscent of the sixties.

Coming over to stand next me, Arielle bumps my shoulder. “Hey, girlie, don’t look so freaked. Hazel’s kidding about the whole . . .” She draws her thumb across her neck, closing her eyes and lolling her tongue out. “These women are tough as nails, living through world wars, outliving their husbands, and look.” She points around the room. “Still kicking and cackling.” On cue, Hazel puckers her now ultra-red lips at Mildred, who scowls. Several women crack up in response, and I can’t help but smile . . . a little.

“It’s not that,” I say aimlessly.

“What’s wrong then?”

I kissed your brother!

“Uhm . . . nothing,” I reply, blinking. “Sorry. Just stuff on the brain.” I swirl my hand around my temple like there’s a whirlwind of tumbleweeds tangling up in my brain, mostly so that I don’t unconsciously touch my lips again.

“Work stuff? Or did Ninety-Six Percent keep you up late last night?” Arielle prods with a smile.

“What?” I say too quickly. I must look guilty as hell. I’ve never been one to hide my emotions, but the fates must be shining on me today, or the deal I’m considering making with the Devil is already taking effect, because Arielle misreads my expression.

“Shit, did he already turn into a toad? Damn it, I thought that had a good shot. I’m sorry, Riley. Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight?”

It takes me a full thirty seconds to realize that she’s put one and one together and decided that my messaging with Mark has already ended poorly. And tonight?

Oh, yeah, The Crew’s outing.

“Maybe,” I say without committing to anything. “It should be fun, at least.”

“Hell yeah, it will be.”

Arielle and I fall into a comfortable silence, and I think about The Crew. Most of us left our jobs at the mall, but we still try to get together frequently. Sometimes, that’s monthly. Other times, it might be several months before we see each other. It all depends on everyone’s schedules now that we’re grown and in different places in our lives.

But tonight’s important . . . so we’re going to make the time.

“I can’t wait,” I assure

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