“Uhhhh, I don’t think I’m at belly-shirt confidence levels yet,” I say.

“Right. Sorry, I forgot. Well, then we’ll just have to take out a few buttons at the top. And I have this really great bra you can borrow,” she says, looking the outfit over while chewing on her fingernail.

“I thought this was Paige’s thing—makeovers and dress up?” I say, wondering when Cass got so girly and creative.

“Oh, it totally is. I’m just good at sexy dress-up. I do it for Ty all the time,” she says, like it’s no big deal.

“Ohhhhh my god. I don’t need to know this.”

“What? He likes it, and we’re adults,” she says, then goes back to the pile of costumes, still looking for something to wear. I hold the outfit back up against my body one more time, pushing up my boobs, trying to imagine myself. “And I saw that!” she says. I blush, and put the outfit down in my lap.

Cass settles on a cheerleader outfit, which I thought was pretty predictable, but she seemed happy with it. We take the shuttle back to the campus and spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready for the party. I told Nate I would just meet him there since he had late afternoon workouts, and I kind of wanted to surprise him with my look, especially since he’s been acting so strange lately.

Before we left, I spent minutes standing in front of our mirror with Cass’s lacy black bra peaking out—way out—of the baseball jersey I had on. My hair was pulled into two pigtails, and black mascara smeared under each eye. Cass was right—the look was sexy, and I was going to get a lot of attention. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready—or wanted that.

Walking through campus was the hardest part, because most of the people staying at school were dressed normally, and I felt the heat of every stare from every male I passed. And while at first it made me feel a little uneasy, the more it happened, the more I sort of liked it.

“Yeeeeaaaawwwwww!” The scream was followed by a whistle; a convertible Camaro, packed with five guys, slowed as it passed us while we walked along the road. Paige was eating the attention up, even going so far as to blow kisses while the car drove by.

“If she keeps this up, they’ll make her their queen,” I say to Cass while we step up to the lawn of the sorority house.

“Are you kidding, she’s already their queen. You could be, too, in that outfit,” she says, fanning herself. I smile and put my head down, still not quite ready to believe that I’m anything hot. I may be cute, and sure, with my boobs flirting with the public in this bra, I was something to look at. But I wasn’t quite ready to label myself hot.

“Thanks, but I’ll settle for ruling Nate’s world,” I say.

“Then let the reign begin,” she smiles and spins me around, pushing me to a group of guys standing around a large bonfire. Nate’s back is to me. He’s wearing a football jersey, and the helmet is dangling in his hands.

“Rowe Stanton,” Tucker says a few feet away from me. My heart skips a beat, and not the excited kind. More of the nervous kind—of a girl who doesn’t want her boyfriend seeing her talk to Tucker while she’s dressed like…well, like a sporty hooker.

“Tucker. Hey…” I trail off.

“You look…” he doesn’t finish his statement either, but his eyes can’t seem to make their way all the way up my body to my face.

“Like a women’s baseball player from the forties?” I try to steer clear of any compliments, but Tucker wants none of that.

“Rowe, if that’s what the girls looked like back in the women’s league days, then I’d run home right now and build myself a time machine.”

Well damn. I have to admit, that made me feel pretty nice. “Thanks,” I say, my smile tight and my face blushing.

“So, where’s that boyfriend of yours? Not sure I’m in the mood to get punched tonight,” he says, only half kidding.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We were sort of working through some things. We weren’t really official yet, if that makes sense,” I say, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach having this conversation.

“I’m guessing you figured things out?” he says.

“Yeah,” I laugh lightly. “Speaking of, I should go tell him I’m here. He was waiting for me.”

“Right. Well, I’m going to head inside for a refill,” he says, tipping over his empty red cup. “I’ll see you in class? I hope you’re thinking about that art history thing.”