Sweet and Vicious(Margarelli Brothers 1)

It didn’t seem like a bad deal to me, honestly. If I wanted kids someday, I’d just adopt. Once I had my doctorate, of course. I wanted to be a literature professor, just like my mom’s friend Debbie. She was somehow glamorous and serious at the same time, in a tweedy sort of way.

“I don’t do clubs. Can’t dance.”

“This place is more of a lounge . . .” she said in a wheedling tone. “Please? No one else wants to go with me.” She pouted.

I cringed, knowing I was going to give in. The last thing I wanted to do was go out. Sometimes, though, you had to take one for the team.

Sara was very different from me but she was a real friend. Other than her, I only had a handful of acquaintances from my classes and around the dorm. So, she was pretty much my only team member.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “One drink.”

“Yes!” She jumped and clapped her hands together. Then she immediately got down to business as she gave me a critical look. “Now, what are we going to dress you in?”

I groaned, sensing an impending makeover. Every time we went anywhere together, we went through this song and dance, staring with freshman orientation. She even tried to make me over for our weekly hall meetings.

“Don’t try to put glop on my face,” I warned.

“Sweetie, I would never mess with your face. You are way too beautiful with no makeup.”

I rolled my eyes but I noticed something. There was a hint of a jealous tone to her voice that surprised me. I knew my face was nice enough, but beautiful? That was a bit of a stretch.

Besides, Sara was the one who was pretty enough to be on TV.

“Your hair is beyond perfect, too,” she said, tugging on my long auburn hair. This time, there was no doubt. She did sound jealous. Which was ridiculous. Sara’s bouncy blonde curls were straight out of Felicity.

She turned heads wherever she went. Meanwhile, I was more of a ‘blend into the background’ sort of girl. And that was just fine with me.

“Try this on. Pleeeeease?” she said as she thrust out a slinky minidress. I shook my head violently and she gave me a look of exasperation. “Fine . . . what about . . . huh,” she said, staring at a red dress. “I forgot I had this.”

She showed it to me. I opened my mouth, surprised. It might be red but it was otherwise demure. Below the knee, not skintight, with ruffled sleeves and a little scarf that tied in a gentle ‘V.’

“That’s . . .”

“Kinda old-fashioned, but . . .”

“Pretty,” we said in unison.

“Well, you can have it. My step monster bought it for me,” she said with a grimace. Her father had remarried when she was a teenager. She had never warmed up to her mother’s ‘replacement,’ as she called her. The woman bought her clothes and jewelry in a desperate bid for affection. Clearly, it hadn’t worked.

I took the dress, surprised as Sara when it fit and actually looked really . . . nice. Not too fussy. Not too sexy. Just . . . right.

“I think it’s fancier than we need tonight,” she said. I nodded in agreement, pulling it off and handing it back to her.

“No, no. I meant it. That dress was made for you.”

I thanked her and hung it in my mostly empty closet across the room. When I turned back, she was holding out a top, if you could call it that. I shook my head wildly.

“That’s not a top. That’s lingerie.”

“It’s a bustier! It’s too tight on me.”

“Not happening.”

“Fine. What about . . .”

She pulled out a halter top that looked like an expensive napkin.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at a navy top hanging next to yet another slinky bit of nothing.

“That? That was what I wore for my interview here. It’s just . . .” she handed it me and I ‘oohed’ over the feel of the fabric. “It’s so basic.”

“It’s so soft,” I countered.

“Again, it’s yours,” she said with a shrug. I could sense that she was giving up on me. If I wore this, at least I wouldn’t embarrass her. “And take these jeans. Yours look like boy jeans. They are too tight on me, anyway.”

I took the jeans and tops, feeling like a charity case. I mean, I kind of was. I might have a full scholarship, but it still didn’t mean I had money. My meals were covered, but I wasn’t about to go out to eat off campus or develop a Starbucks habit. But girls in the dorms trade clothes constantly, anyway, I reminded myself. It was just one of the things I had learned. It was slow, but I was adjusting to living with other girls my age.