Elena
Elena had been dodging Ethan’s calls for three days straight.
Seventeen missed calls. Twenty-three text messages. All variations of the same thing: We need to talk. Where are you? Are you mad at me? Elena, please.
She deleted them without reading past the first line.
Harper had texted too, asking if she was okay, if something happened. Elena told her she was fine, just busy. Harper didn’t push.
Now Elena stood in the dressing room at Nordstrom, staring at herself in a black dress that Lila had shoved through the curtain, while her friends argued on the other side.
“Try the red one!” Lila called out. “The black makes you look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“Maybe that’s the vibe,” Elena muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll try the red.”
She changed into the red dress short, ti
