White Girl Problems by Tara Brown

Author:Tara Brown [Brown, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00HE10YDQ
Published: 2013-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

If I didn’t take selfies, my friends wouldn’t even know what I look like.

Chapter Eleven

I’m Thank and FULL

November

Ten things I was grateful for when Thanksgiving hit:

I got new Lulus in the mail the day before Thanksgiving.

I had a boy who kissed me every single second of the day and never asked for anything.

I was pretty sure I was going to lose my V any minute, and I could easily say I loved the person I would lose it to.

I had almost straight A’s, even if it was totes thanks to the boy kissing me and his strict schooling regime.

Hattie had flown in for the holiday and was staying at the house.

Sheila HATED Hattie.

Hattie couldn’t give a shit about it.

Jess was dating Aaron and he was sweet to her in a way I had never seen before.

Linna and I were in therapy.

Oh snap, I almost forgot. I was in LOVE. I knew it, but hadn’t said it. Neither had he. He kept torturing me about the ring, but I hadn’t been able to find a way to open it.

“HA! I found it!” Jess came running into my room and dove onto the bed. She flashed her iPad at me, showing me my antique ring.

“Hey, that’s my ring.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Dude, I am so sorry to have to tell you this.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s stolen?”

She laughed. “No! What? You are so crazy. No, it’s way worse than that.”

I gasped, but she cut off my dramatics. “It’s a ring from his family. He had to have put it in that antique shop. It’s worth like half a million dollars but is considered priceless, really. It belonged to the Tudor family, if you can believe it.”

I gagged a little bit. “That show with Jonathan Rhys Meyers? With Marie Antoinette?”

She laughed again. “Yes and no, dumbass. It’s the one with Jonathan Rhys Meyers, but Marie Antoinette wasn’t in it. It was Anne Boleyn. Good God.”

“Whatever. You mean this friggin’ ring is some royal jewelry that queens have worn?”

She reached forward, did some twisting thingy, and it snapped open. “It’s a special way of opening it. Henry Tudor used it to meet with his women.” She gushed. “Aww, look.”

I lifted my finger and smiled when I saw what was inside. In the gold he’d had someone engrave:

Every beat of my heart is for you, my Fin.

I smiled. “Oh my God. What? Seriously. He had the ring brought to the friggin’ store and engraved for me? This piece of priceless jewelry has a secret message in it for me?”

She gave me the cheesiest grin ever. “He loves you.”

I sighed. “I know that. He doesn’t say it, but I totes know it. I can’t keep this ring, dude.”

She nodded. “I agree, but he’s gone and personalized it. I mean, that sort of means you have to.” She made a funny face, wrinkling up her nose. “Would it kill you to keep a ring a king of England used to smuggle whores into his room?”

“No.

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