"Miss Spencer," the sales clerk acknowledges Taryn as we enter yet another boutique, Taryn's three-inch nude heels clicking on the polished floor. She smiles at him, then looks at me, silently prompting me to follow her.

We stop by the shelves with purses. The expensive leather glistens under the store lights. Taryn inspects each purse and settles on a small, black one.

"This one's perfect for you," she says, giving it to me.

I love it, but there's no way I can afford the price I managed to read on the tag that was carefully hidden in one of the side pouches.

"Taryn, there's no way I can pay," I say.

Taryn laughs. "You won't pay. I have a gift card I haven't used. I don't need anything, so let's pick something up for you."

"I don't know..."

Taryn rolls her blue eyes at me. "Listen to me. Money. Is. Not. An. Issue. You're my roommate and my friend, and we're on a makeover mission. Let me do my job."

Finally, I give in. She hands the card and the purse to the clerk. Five minutes later, the shopping bag with my first designer purse is in my hands.

Before leaving the apartment to go shopping, Taryn had studied the contents of my closet. After furrowing her brow and shaking her head, she said what I wore didn't do my body justice. According to the blond girl walking next to me with her back straight and her head held high, clothes are meant to bring out the best in us.

My old, shapeless ones never did. If anything, they made me look even more miserable and poor. What I bought with Taryn's help is different. The dresses and skirts hug my curves, and the tops show off my cleavage without being too much.

The Leah I saw in the fitting room's mirror was the girl I'd like to befriend. She looked more confident and adult, and her eyes shone. I tucked that image in one of the corners of my memory to retrieve it when my confidence faltered.

"So, are we going to that party?" Taryn asks as we stroll to the parking lot where she left her convertible.

"I want to. I've been studying too much."

Taryn tosses the shopping bags onto the back seat. I do the same before getting in the car and buckling up.

Taryn is an expert driver. She doesn't speed up—perhaps for my sake—but she knows all the shortcuts, which allows us to arrive home in less than half an hour.

Once we're there, I take the new clothes out of their bags and hang them in my built-in closet—everything but the short black dress I'll wear to the party at the frat house.

I try it on and head to the living room, where Taryn is painting her nails.

"What do you think?" I ask.

She gives me a once-over, grinning. "That's the one. Take my stilettos. The red ones."

I smooth out the front of the mini dress and look down at my feet. "Do you think that's necessary?"

"Absolutely. Those long legs of yours are meant to be shown off. We'll go shoe-shopping next time so you can have your own pair."

I open my mouth to reply, but the doorbell rings, and I rush to the hallway.

Nash is standing outside the apartment.

"Wow," he says as soon as the front door opens, and he catches a glimpse of me in my new outfit.

I giggle and kiss his cheek, stepping aside to let him in. He follows me inside.

"Hey!" he says to Taryn.

Taryn smiles brightly, giving him a small wave. "How's it going?"

"Good. How was your shopping afternoon?" Nash asks, sitting on the couch next to her.

"Productive." I flop down on his lap, and he kisses my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I wish I could go to the party with you," he mumbles with his lips pressed to my skin.

"Me too. It sucks that you have to work tonight."

"They'll pay well," says Nash. "Besides—"

Once again, the doorbell interrupts us.

"I'll get it. My right one isn't done yet," Taryn says, wiggling her fingers as she hops off the couch.

Annie's voice rings in the foyer as she greets Taryn. Then, she barges into the room. Her eyes widen when she sees Nash and me.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She gives me a nervous half-smile. "Wrong? Everything's great. Dang, I didn't know you were busy. I called you a couple of times."

"Her battery died," Taryn says. "The girl never charges her phone."

Nash chuckles. "True. I should've given you a charger for your birthday."

"I have three." I smile before turning my attention to Annie. She looks fidgety. There's too much hair touching and clothes straightening going on. It's suspicious, but it's clear that whatever it is, she won't say it in front of others. Pregnancy or engagement are the first two things that cross my mind. Now that Mackenzie is home again, they are happier than ever.

"Taryn and I went shopping. Do you want to see what we bought?" I ask. If Annie needs us to be alone, it'd be a perfect chance to talk without raising suspicions or asking Nash to leave.

Her eyes dart from me to Taryn and then land on Nash. She chews on her bottom lip and pulls her phone out of her pocket. "Dang, it's late," she says, glancing at the screen. "How about I stop by tomorrow morning, and you show me everything? I just wanted to say hi before going to class."

"Okay. Are you sure you don't want to have a cup of coffee or something?" I ask, giving her another chance to tell me whatever it is that makes her so nervous, but she smiles and pecks my cheek. Then, she waves goodbye to Nash and Taryn and leaves.

"That was fast." Taryn lifts her hand and inspects the polish on her nails. Satisfied with the result, she goes on to apply the topcoat.

"I'll be going, too," Nash says. He kisses me on the lips softly, and I slide off his lap so he can get up.

"Have fun tonight," he tells us. "But not too much," he adds, kissing my cheek before he leaves.

"He's so sweet," Taryn says, smiling. Nash must have said the last part louder than I realized. "And Annie was so weird."

"You noticed?"

"Noticed? That was like seeing a guy wear socks with flip flops. By the way, never, and I mean never date a man who does that."

"Noted." I giggle, twirling in front of Taryn once again. She gives me a thumbs up and shouts "Stilettos!" as I rush to my room to get ready.

***

According to Taryn, you can't call yourself a college student if you haven't been to a college party. Since classes started, I've been to quite a few, but never at the frat house.

It's her second year at college. She's still deciding her major while taking all kinds of classes—from Art to Psychology to Math. She also knows all kinds of people—Taryn greets and smiles at someone every few seconds on our way to the party. People stare as we stroll down the tree-lined driveway, and I blame it on the high-heeled shoes I am not used to wearing.

"That guy over there is Drew Evans," Taryn whispers, nodding toward a tall guy to our right. "He's great. Having him in your corner won't hurt. I'll introduce you to him later."

I nod, raking my eyes over the clusters of girls and guys. There are too many new faces. Psych students are the ones I'm used to seeing, but I don't know anyone here.

"Relax," Taryn says, nudging my shoulder with hers. We make our way into the frat house. My eyes water when I inhale the cigarette smoke that permeates the already stale air. I never minded it when Brian smoked, but it was different. His taste and smell were different.

I give myself a mental smack on the head. Why is he even on my mind?

"Be careful with what you drink," Taryn says as we push past the group of girls in almost identical mini skirts and crop tops to get to the kitchen. "If the guys have some Jack, that's much better than drinking whatever crap they mix for the girls."

"Noted." I smile. Taryn's rules aren't different from Brian's. Memories of another party surge in my annoyingly nostalgic brain—me in Brian's arms, kissing him in the dimly lit room as we sway to the slow song Lenny played for us. Brian and I on the roof of his dad's garage, doing tequila shots. Us in Brian's room, ripping the clothes off each other. His fingers...

Heat swallows my cheeks. I swallow, and the room snaps back into focus.

"This one's good." Taryn thrusts a red cup in my hand and then laces her fingers through mine as she leads me out of the kitchen.

The rap song in the living room makes the walls of the stately house vibrate.

"Oh, my God! The song's perfect," Taryn lets out a squeal. "Here, hold my drink."

Two cups, not one, are in my hands now. Mesmerized, I watch Taryn stroll to the center of the room. The few dancing girls make space for her. Soon, everyone watches her move. She's the prettiest of all the girls I've seen at the party so far, and her dance moves are smooth—no shame, and not even an ounce of self-consciousness.

My eyes flitter away from Taryn and look around. A handsome guy is leaning against one of the walls, his toned arms folded over his chest. A dark-haired girl in glasses is by his side.

Another familiar figure makes his way through the throng of students. Drew Evans. He's talking to someone, motioning to his surroundings as if he's giving them a tour of the place.

The song changes to another one. It's more sensual, and Taryn is still dancing. Some girls join her this time. She beckons me with her hand, but I shake my head and raise my cup to show her I'm good where I am.

People-watching is fun. Evans is standing next to the handsome guy now. I take a sip of Jack from my cup and spot another tall guy by the wall, facing away from me. Evans makes the same gesture with his arm, and when the guy turns around, I cough, spilling the drink onto my new dress.

No. Impossible. It cannot be him.

My heart jumps in my ribcage. I press a palm to my chest, but my heartbeat only grows more frantic.

Brian. It's Brian.

He's thinner. He's so much thinner, and his hair is styled in a different way. It's just as dark, but a bit longer. There's a slight stubble on his chiseled jaw. He smiles widely at Evans, achingly handsome in his dark jeans and a black shirt. With my heart in my throat now, I watch as he sips from his cup.

As if feeling my stare on him, Brian slowly turns his head, and his eyes lock with mine.

I freeze, and so does he. The air is sucked out of the room. I hear sounds, but they seem distant. Everything blurs and fades into nothingness.

He's the first to move toward me. He pushes past the crowd of dancing girls and shortens the distance between us.

We're standing face to face for the first time in almost a year.

He slides his fingers through his hair. "Ki—"

"Don't," I choke out and shake my head. "Don't you dare."

Brian's teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he nods. "Outside?"

I rest the cups I'm holding on an empty chair and follow Brian out of the frat house.

We keep our distance as we circle the stone building. I am shaking. Goosebumps cover my arms, and I might throw up if I don't manage to calm down.

I look great. My eyes are smoky, my lips are red, and my hair is straight and shiny.

The girl who's facing Brian now is the new Leah. She's more confident. She can walk in her four-inch shoes without falling. She rides a Harley, for God's sake.

The wind grows stronger and whips my hair around my face. Brian reaches out and moves a loose strand out of my eyes. His eyes are glistening, and it's not from the street lights.

His fingers caress my cheek. He smiles, but his jaw trembles, giving him away.

He's different, but still the same.

Under my new clothes and makeup, so am I.