“Really?”

“Yep, right after we painted each other’s toenails and braided each other’s hair.” He shakes his head before heading to the side of the SUV.

“Not all girls do that!” I yell after him, but he merely chuckles and slips into the driver’s seat.

Grr. Damn him. Why won’t he just tell me? It’s so frustrating, yet at the same time, I find his desire to torture me very sexy.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Emersyn stops by my side, giving me a quizzical look. “You look sexually frustrated, like you’re about to dry hump the car.” She steps back. “Should I give you two a minute or what?”

I tear my gaze off the SUV. “Your brother’s got me frustrated. I can’t figure out who he is. It’s driving me bananas.”

She crosses her arms and cocks a brow. “You still haven’t figured that out?”

“He told you about that, huh?” I ask and she nods. I grimace. “I feel bad about it, but it’s not like I was Miss Popular in high school. I probably wouldn’t recognize a lot of people.” Lie. I’ve remembered everyone I’ve run into so far, but I’m not about to admit that and make myself look more like an ass.

“Yeah, I remember, kangaroo shirt girl.” The hardness in her expression softens as I cringe. “Okay, I’m going to do you a favor as one ex-dork to another. When you’re trying to remember Evan, picture him as your mother’s worst nightmare. He was so Emo back then. I’m serious, like, really mopey, and he used to lock himself in his bedroom and spend hours writing depressing poetry.” She rolls her eyes. “He had really badly dyed black hair, wore eyeliner, spiky collars, bracelets, chains, and had a ton of piercings.”

It clicks. Well, sort of.

“I know the guy you’re talking about, but that guy’s name wasn’t Evan.” And I know I’m thinking of the right person because there was a total of one Emo kid in Fairville. “His name was Silver.”

“Yeah, Silver is Evan’s middle name. But he went by it in high school because he thought it fit his”—she makes air quotes— “ ‘tortured, misunderstood soul.’ ”

I process what she just told me. Silver—or Evan—and I used to talk a lot during chemistry class. Or, well, I did a lot of talking while he worked on our assignment and nodded his head a lot. I was never quite sure if he was listening or if he just had some weird, constant muscle spasm in his neck.

“All right, ladies, who’s ready to party like it’s 1999!” Carrie Lynn cheers as she and her four friends walk out of the house. They’re wearing the same pants as Carrie Lynn, only the butts of theirs say ‘Bridesmaid Bitches Posse.’ And they’re all sporting tiaras. “You girls remember Lexi Ashford, right?” Carrie Lynn says to them when the five of them reach me. “She went to school with us. She’s the one who wore that shirt with a horse on it all the time.”

There’s a chorus of “Oh, yeah,” and one snide, “Oh, you mean the girl who had really short arms. Didn’t we make up a nickname for her, like Lexi T-Rexi or something?” The wind’s blowing, and she’s clutching on to her tiara like her life depends on it. I make a mental note to steal her tiara when I get a chance and make her watch me break it in half before I throw it off a roof.

Emersyn gives me a sympathetic look before hopping into the passenger seat of the car.

As the four of them pile into the back and middle seat of the SUV, Carrie plops a tiara down on my head. When I start to protest, she holds up her hand. “Everyone at the party has to wear one, Lexi, so be a trooper.”

“But Emersyn isn’t wearing one.” I sulk with my arms folded.

“That’s because she’s allergic to cubic zirconium,” Carrie Lynn says, dead serious.

Sure she is. Dammit! Why couldn’t I come up with an excuse like that?

Emersyn catches my eye through the window and puts her finger to her lips, begging me not to say anything.

Carrie Lynn puts her foot on the sidestep, hoists herself into the middle seat, and then pats the spot beside her. “Now, come on. I promise you that, by the end of the car ride, you’ll be wearing that tiara proudly.”

Yeah, there’s a better chance of the sky raining tiny cupids onto my head then that ever happening. But I force a smile, knowing there’s no use going on this road trip being a Debbie downer, even if I’m being forced to wear a plastic princess crown that, for some reason, smells like cotton candy.

Chapter 10

Man, I never thought the drive to Vegas could be so long.

For the first couple of hours, Carrie Lynn and her friends are super energized and giggly. Then, about an hour away from the city, they hit this phase where their energy level goes way down. When they begin reminiscing about their weddings, I discover all four of them are married, and three of them have kids. Emersyn and Evan are the only ones not towing around a ball and chain, but Emersyn is four years younger than me, so she doesn’t count.

Then they start drilling me with questions, asking if I’m married, and when I say I’m not, they gape at me like I sprouted a unicorn horn out of my forehead. Can you say awkward?

I feel like a loser for being so far behind in life, and it makes me want to change even more. I silently vow to myself that, from tomorrow on, I’m going to be Miss Responsible, Pay Her Bills Before They’re Due, Check Her Bank Account Frequently, Figure Out Who the Hell I Want to Be. Start moving forward. Get a real job and work super hard. Save some money. Establish a career. Buy my own furniture. Get out of Fairville. Live in a better part of the city. Hell, maybe if I’m lucky, in a year or two, I’ll be throwing my own bachelorette party and making everyone do arts and crafts.

The second we pull into the city, their energy soars through the roof again.

“Look at that man wearing a diaper.” Carrie Lynn points out the window, her eyes wide as she gapes in sheer awe at the vibrant, lively, sinfully strange city.

I giggle at the sight of the man handing out flyers while rocking a silver painted diaper and diamond feather wings. Hey, look at that. The sky must have heard me when I said there was a better chance of it raining tiny cupids onto my head than me ever proudly wearing a tiara.

Okay, so technically the sky probably didn’t rain him down, but still, it’s cloudy, and he had to come from somewhere. Maybe that’s why I’m perfectly okay with the tiara on my head. Either that or the fact that Emersyn and I kept sneaking tequila shots during the drive. And by shots, I mean I’ve been chugging my sorrows away from a big, old cup.

Poor Evan had to endure the ride sober. He did it so quietly, just nodding his head along whenever someone yammered his ear off.

Watching him, I begin to wonder how I didn’t see it, how I didn’t recognize him as Silver, the sweet Emo kid who helped me pass chemistry.

About twenty minutes after pulling into the city, we park in the hotel parking garage. Carrie Lynn and her friends immediately head inside without bothering to help with the luggage, saying they’re going to get checked in/play the tables/find a sexy piece of man candy with a tight ass—it was really hard to sort through all the stuff they were shouting as they stumbled toward the doors.

Emersyn stays behind with us, seizing the opportunity to light up a cigarette and have “sexy, skanky phone time with her boy toy back home!” Thankfully, she wanders away from the car while making the call, because I’m pretty sure I caught, “tweak your nipples” and “tongue fuck your belly button” before she got out of ear range.

“I figured it out,” I announce to Evan as I help him collect everyone’s bags from the back of the SUV.

He arches a brow in disbelief as he starts to stack the suitcases onto the ground. “Is that so?”

I circle a finger in the air and almost topple over as the world spins with the movement. “You think I’m gonna try to lie to you again, but I’m not.” I brace my hand against the bumper to keep from tipping over.