I'm getting ready for another one of Charles's art events, fussing with my hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror. Zoe is draped across the bed behind me, watching with an amused grin.
"You know, I never thought I'd see the day where Cassie Wilson was this concerned with her appearance for anything fancier than a kegger," she teases.
I stick my tongue out at her reflection. "Oh hush, you know how these art crowd people can be. If I show up looking less than perfect, they'll eat me alive."
"So dramaticccc," Zoe sing-songs, bouncing up to come peer over my shoulder. "You always look like a million bucks, babe. That's why Charles parades you around like the ultimate trophy wife."
I open my mouth, outraged, but she's already cackling and dodging away from me. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! You
