Phoebe
“Just leave it to me.”
Tyra cut into our conversation with her usual confidence. She was always the optimist—maybe even a little obsessed with me. Somehow, she had a sixth sense for knowing exactly when I was feeling unsure, and she’d always swoop in like a knight in shining armor. Well, if knights wore ripped jeans and combat boots.
Of course, she also had a habit of running her mouth.
I was used to it by now. If she got too carried away, I’d jab her ribs, kick her shin, or do whatever it took to make her shut up. Tonight was no different. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me into her room, determined to work her magic on my look.
We had agreed that I’d come over an hour before the party. When I arrived, her mom greeted me with a big grin. She looked like a rockstar—
