Snow On The Beach // R.C.

1.09

"Oh, you look hot," Sarah says as I twirl in front of her. "You look hotter than me, and that's saying something."

I ignore her teasing smile and attempt to push her off the bed anyway. When I fail, I turn back to the mirror, inspecting myself from head to toe. I'm wearing a white bikini with a white crochet dress overtop. The sleeves are long and widen at the wrist, and the back is completely open. Not to mention that it's mostly see-through.

I don't even remember how I let Sarah convince me to shop around her closet again. After the birthday party John threw me on the beach—and everything that has ensued after with Rafe and...Ward—I swore I never would again. But I've never cared before. Not until all this DCS stress has been loaded onto my shoulders. So tonight, I'm going to try and live like the old Sissy.

Old Sissy is not much different from New Sissy if I'm being honest.

"You really think I look pretty?" I ask Sarah as she comes to stand behind me.

She rests her chin on my shoulder, our eyes meeting through the reflection. "Beautiful."

I smile.

"And kinda slutty."

"Oh my God!" I whirl on her, and it feels like we laugh all the way to Kelce's house. When we get there, she immediately disappears with Topper, which leaves me to fend for myself. I don't mind it. I haven't had much time alone to think today. The fact that Wheezie helped me fill Rafe's 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner with bleach just this morning is absolutely bizarre. Everything that ensued after that is still kind of a blur. All the things I have yet to deal with are, unfortunately, crystal clear.

John losing his job with the Camerons.

Ward's offer of guardianship, and the DCS.

Sarah and the doubts I'm having about our friendship—doubts that I conveniently didn't bring up when she let me borrow her clothes. Doubts that I didn't bring up when she asked me about my day. For some reason, I withheld the truth; I didn't tell her about Rafe and Barry. Yet I don't feel any sense of guilt, because when I asked her about hers...she was just as short with her response as me.

We don't have to tell each other everything but...it's unusual when we don't.

"There she is! Sissy Routledge, everybody!" A voice cheers as I mosey downstairs, aimless. Sprawled out on a couch, the straps of her dress off her shoulders and red hair wild, is Lydia Bowman. Clamped in her hand is a bottle of champagne that, by the looks of her eyes, is presumably close to being empty. "We missed you at my party the other day!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry to have missed it," I say as I sit next to her.

"Nope," she giggles, tapping my nose with a finger. "You ditched it. We all saw you walking the other way. You don't have to lie to me, girly."

I'm trying not to flinch. She's yelling every word she speaks at the top of her lungs. The music is loud, but not that loud.

"Where's the princess?" Lydia asks, not giving me a chance to speak. "Aren't you two usually attached at the hip?"

Not lately, I think. "Not always." Suddenly, a loud commotion sounds upstairs, followed by a splash in the pool. "Actually, I think that's probably her."

Sarah always knows how to draw attention to herself at things like this. Hell, she draws attention to herself while standing around at a grocery store. Unlike what most people think, it's never on purpose.

Lydia shrugs (at what, I don't know) then downs more of the champagne. "Want some?" She holds it out to me.

"Why not."