AMY’S POV
By seven o'clock on Friday evening, our dorm room looked like a chaotic explosion of silk, curling irons, and designer perfume bottles.
Maya stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down her fitted burgundy satin dress and adjusting her glittering gold hoop earrings.
She looked breathtaking; her hair was styled in soft, cascading Hollywood waves that bounced as she moved.
"Okay, be completely honest with me," Maya said, turning around with a wide, anxious smile as she checked her reflection for the tenth time. "Does this dress say 'I'm a cool, effortless college girl who just happens to look incredible,' or does it say 'I spent three full hours getting ready for a freshman defenseman'?"
I laughed softly, stepping out of the small bathroom as I fastened the thin s
