Chapter Eighteen
“This isn’t a good idea,” Tiffy said to herself. She needed to brush her hair. It was windblown and thick, and its waves could easily become unruly. She wanted to apply some blush, some shadow, maybe some mascara, and tidy up as she wiped away some of the black smudges from the mascara dotted under her eyes.
She could hear voices outside the door. She knew it was Brandon and Zach playing in the bedroom next door, and she took in the large bathroom in which she stood, with a tub and shower, in Jeremy’s house, his parents’ house, a place she had no intention of moving into.
“Right, so just tell him,” she said, “and no more kissing—even if he can kiss. Well, that will do you no good, because that’s exactly what got you into the situation you’re in now.” She looked in the m
