My Not So Super Sweet Life (Entangled Teen) by Harris Rachel

Author:Harris, Rachel [Harris, Rachel]
Language: ara
Format: mobi
Tags: teen romance, Huntley Fitzpatrick, Kasie West, Hollywood, Stephanie Perkins, time travel
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2014-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

Secrets and Lies

∙Cat∙

My fashionista friend is parked at my locker bright and early on Monday, two Venti Caramel Macchiatos in hand, eyes wide and eager for details. Details that have been piling on since Hayley and I last saw each other at Jenna’s aborted bachelorette party—the day my world went wonky.

Accepting the much-needed caffeine jolt with a muttered, “Thanks,” (morning person I’m not), I gulp the delicious beverage as my mind trips over the events of the past few days. The scene at the airport, the awkwardness at The Ivy. The discomfort of family lunch, followed by the best Valentine’s Day in history. Where do I even begin? Luckily, Hayley’s paper-thin patience wears out before I can decide, and what I’m sure is the first of the day’s questions begin:

What is Caterina really like? (Answer: the jury is still out.)

Is it true major sparks flew between her and Dad on Saturday? (Answer: Uh, no, not unless by sparks you mean ocular hate missiles.)

Is my new brother as sinfully hot in person as he looks on television? (Answer: Ew. And also, probably.)

When am I going to see either of them again? (Answer: Thursday.)

“Does Ransom have a girl—” Hayley cuts off midquestion. “What’s Thursday?”

I quickly fill her in on the Holly Underhill premiere and my subsequent need to be beautified, after which she nods, shifts her gaze to the left, and firmly declares, “I’m on it.”

This, as it turns out, is an understatement.

Two days later, Hayley shows up at my house as promised, dress in hand, shoes to match, and with serious thoughts as to how I should wear my hair. I point her in Jenna’s direction, since that is her domain, and the two of them sit on the sofa, flipping through magazines for the next hour. It’s the first and only time my future stepmother has looked excited about this whole thing.

Feeling strangely guilty, I turn away, lift the plastic protecting the dress, and trail my fingers along the silky material. It’s gorgeous. Purple, fitted, sleeveless, and fancier than anything I’ve ever worn. Or even considered wearing, to a star-studded premiere or otherwise. It looks like something a model would wear—not a slightly awkward, attention-phobic chica, pretending she belonged. But it suits the situation, and I imagine it will make Caterina happy. Maybe even proud.

Some twelve hours later, as the scent of cooked hair fills the bathroom, my attention returns to the dress hanging on the back of the door.

“We’ll just turn down the setting a bit,” Jenna says. She gingerly touches an index finger to the long section of my hair wrapped around a curling iron. Her lips purse as the smooth skin around her focused eyes tenses.

It doesn’t take one of those Big Bang nerds to see that she’s stressing.

“It’s looking good.”

She lifts her gaze in question, and I circle my finger around my head like a halo. Ringlets she’s assured me will be finger-combed and bunched in an elaborate style lie in a crazy array atop my head.

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