Glimmers of Glass (A Glimmers Novel #1: Cinderella)

Chapter 28

By the time I stepped out of Clarise's Formal Wear, I was ready to snap. Aubrey had spent the entire four hours alternately complaining about how fat she was—the only fat on her that I could see was located in her breasts and butt, exactly where it should be—and talking about how great Lucas was. Every so often, she'd take a break in this schedule to frown at me as I tried on a prom dress and say things like "Well, at least an empire waist is flattering on everyone" and "The ruffle down the side is nice. It makes you look not quite so short." She, of course, looked spectacular in everything, as did Imogen.

And Imogen had been no help. I'd made the enormous mistake of telling her I was going to prom with Kyle the night he'd asked me. Four days later and she still hadn't let it go. No matter how many times I explained to her that I was still only going because of work and that he hadn't been harboring "secret feelings," Imogen insisted that he'd had his eye on me from the start. "I felt his emotions when he was talking to you!" she'd said, pinning a dark purple dress against my shoulders with steely fingers and staring at me with her I'm not even kidding right now face. "He likes you, Olivia. Why is it so hard to believe that a guy might like you? You need to relax and live a little."

Imogen could talk. Her supervisor had gone on vacation, and her only jobs were to hold down the fort, answer emails, and occasionally go downtown and Proctor as a girl with a twisted ankle to see who would stop and help. If she did, she'd reward the good samaritan with the ability to always find their lost car keys. She didn't have to deal with running her own full case, or with Lorinda breathing down her neck for updates every time she showed up at the office.

Imogen walked me to the door of Pumpkin Spice before taking off for her Saturday yoga class. She got in one last parting shot. "I read his emotions, Olivia," she said. "You know how good I am at that."

"They weren't for me," I said, but she wasn't listening.

"Needy love," she said. "That's what that was. He was all need and love, and he was looking right at you."

"We were talking about Elle," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "Elle wasn't there with us," she said. "He wasn't looking at Elle. Liv, I know you like Lucas. But he's obviously taken, and that girl doesn't seem like she's about to give him up anytime soon." She raised her eyebrows, suggesting she had opinions on Aubrey she hadn't shared yet. "You may as well go with the guy who's interested and available."

She walked me in as far as the entrance, then stuck her head back in through the door before it closed and said loudly, "I'm telling you, Olivia. Kyle is in love with you." She pointed a finger at me, looking like an Uncle Sam Wants You poster. "Also," she added, "don't forget your mom's necklace for me for prom, okay? And I'll totally do your makeup."

And then she was gone, flouncing past the Pumpkin Spice-emblazoned windows and down the street in the full confidence that she knew everything. It must be a nice feeling.

I had to figure out whether Kyle was right, before the ball. If Elle really was sick of the whole thing, maybe she'd be ready to give this all up for the chance to go back to her geeky, free-trade-caffeinated version of normal.

She sat on the brown couches in a group of Tyler's friends. I met her eyes; she'd been staring at me. Her eyebrows were drawn together in an expression somewhere between confused and hurt. I frowned toward her, shrugging slightly to ask, What's wrong?, but she snapped away from me as if embarrassed to be caught looking and went back to the group conversation.

I ordered a raspberry steamer from Cortney and drummed my fingers on the counter while Noah mixed it up. He seemed confident today. Maybe Elle's personality transplant had given him permission to be the competent one, or maybe working with Cortney was just a lower-pressure environment. Whatever the reason, he threw together the steamer like a pro, talking to Cortney the whole time about some gang that had started tagging in his neighborhood. "But get this," he said, not looking as intimidated as I would have expected someone like Noah to look while talking about gangs. "The paint they used? It was full of glitter." He looked gleeful at their ineptitude. "Purple glitter. I guess we're all supposed to be afraid of unicorns now." He handed the steamer across the counter to me. "Don't worry," he said. "I checked it for sparkles." He chuckled and went to the next customer's iced Americano.