Love Show by Audrey Bell Read Free Book Online

Vogue."
    “That may be true, but that is not just the place for me. No matter how good the articles are. I’m clueless when it
comes to fashion.”
    “You’re not clueless. You just
choose to dress like…” she paused, thinking for an inoffensive word.
    “A slob?” I suggested.
    “A tomboy.”
    I raised my eyebrows.
    “Well, you should think about it.
I'll email her."
    "Don't email her."
    "Don't tell me what to do,
Hadley. If I want to email my friend, I will.”
    "Okay, but I don't want to
work at Vogue . I want to be a reporter anyways, not a long-form
journalist."
    She wasn't listening. She was
watching a petite brunette woman out of the corner of her eyes. "Betty
Sachs had so much plastic surgery I don't even recognize her anymore."
    I followed her gaze. "That’s
so interesting, Mom."                       
    She looked back at me. "What
were we talking about?" She nodded. "Shopping after lunch. You need
new boots."
    "I like these ones," I
said defensively. "I could use a book though."
    "You know, Solomon and I met
at a bookstore."
    That surprised me. "Which
one?"
    "Barnes and Noble. I thought
he worked there. He kept trying to tell me which books I should read. Anyways,
he recommended so many, he insisted on paying for them."  She looked at me
dreamily. “He’s not like any of the other men I’ve been married to.”
    I’d heard that before. I’d probably
hear it again. “That’s nice,” I said, instead of: that’s delusional .
    "He's really the one,"
she said emphatically. “Are you dating anyone? I had a crush on a new boy every
week when I was in college.”
    “That’s more David’s style.”                                            
    She laughed. “No one, really?
You’re such a pretty girl.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t have time
for a boyfriend.”
    “You’re only going to be busier
after you graduate.”
    “Right. Well, I’ll cross that
bridge when I come to it,” I said.
    “Let me give you some advice.”
    I resisted the urge to roll my
eyes.
    “You’re young. You can be a little
reckless,” she smiled. “You won’t be able to be reckless when you’ve got a job
and a family. Have some fun—the beginning of a new relationship is the most
fun. And you’re in college. Nothing is that complicated.”
    I thought about the boy in the parking
lot. It hadn’t been fun. That wasn’t the right word.  It had been terrifying,
but in a good way. It had made my heart drop. Not fun, but something else
almost like fun—something you felt more deeply that fun. Something that made
you go weak.

Chapter Eight
    We flew back to Evanston three days before the semester
started. David had a bag full of new cooking utensils from Williams Sonoma that
my mother had given him for Christmas and I had three new pairs of shoes that
wouldn’t survive three minutes at a college party.
    We hauled our bags back to our room
after midnight—the flight had been delayed and then they didn’t have a gate for
us, and my back was in knots.  I collapsed into bed, taking off my shoes as I
turned off the light.
     
    My phone woke me up before 7 AM.
    Justin’s name flashed on the
screen.
    “Hey, Justin,” I said. “Um, is
everything okay?”
    “Yeah, I guess.”             
    “What’s up? How was your
Christmas?” I sat up and flipped on my bedside lamp.
    His voice shook slightly when he
responded: “Okay. Um. I just got back.”
    “Yeah? Where’d you go?”
    “London?” he sounded unsure of even
that.
    I sat up in bed, “You sure you’re
okay?”
    “Yeah, I-I just... I got back last
night. There are all of these texts from people about the article. And some of
them are threatening and there’s stuff on that campus gossip blog and my
roommate’s not even talking to me and—”
    “Justin, slow down,” I said.
“What’s going on?”
    “That article,” he said. “About
hospitalizations from drinking.