“Join you in a sec,” Chelsea said, her panic rising. It was stupid, really. Sitting next to some random guy in a room full of friends shouldn’t throw her into a tizzy. But Pisa wasn’t here to troubleshoot. She’d be by herself. And who knew what would happen then?
Stop it, she told herself. These are your friends. Indeed, walking into the room and seeing so many familiar faces was like a hug from a distant relative: comfortable but still somehow awkward. She shouldn’t be freaking. But she needed a minute to calm down and chill, to get her head in the bout.
And to dump her damn drink, because its presence was bugging her.
So she excused herself and made a beeline for the bathroom. Inside, she wasn’t alone. To her surprise, she saw tiny Greer, desperately trying to fix her makeup. One of her eyes looked . . . off.
Greer gave her a panicked look as Chelsea entered. “Chel! Oh. Thank god. I need your help.” She pointed at her eye. “My eyelashes are gone! Does it look bad?”
Chelsea peered at her face. “Well, it looks like one of your eyes is bald. Is that what you mean by ‘bad’?”
“Oh, no,” Greer moaned, and leaned in close to the mirror, squinting. “I can’t tell. I’m not wearing my glasses tonight.”
“Uh, why not?” From what she knew of poor Greer, they were some mighty strong glasses. She was always a bit of a mousy thing, shy and sweet and prone to fading into the wallpaper. “Don’t you need them? Did you get Lasik?”
“I don’t qualify for Lasik, and yes, I do need them.” Greer shot her an unhappy look. “Asher’s here tonight and I wanted to look . . . pretty.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Greer was a sweetheart, but she wasn’t Asher’s type. Was she still hung up on the arrogant SOB? He liked them tall, leggy, and busty. Kind of like Chelsea herself, but Asher was an old buddy and the thought of dating him was kind of gross.
“Please,” Greer said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, can you go looking for it? I was in the library earlier. It must have dropped off then. I can’t go to dinner without looking my best. Please. Please please.”
“Well, all right.” It’d make her late for dinner if it took a while, but a task might be the thing to get her focused and soothe her rattled nerves. Plus, it’d help Greer. And who was she kidding? It’d help her because she could avoid dinner that much longer. “But on one condition.”
“Anything.”
She held out her champagne. “Drink this.”
Greer’s brows drew together and she looked at Chelsea’s face, then at the drink. “Why, does it taste bad?”
“No clue. I don’t want it and couldn’t figure out a way to politely hand it back.”
“Mmm, okay.” Greer took the glass and dunked it back, swallowing a huge mouthful. She pressed a small hand to her mouth and then burped delicately. “Now. Eyelashes. Library.”
“Gotcha. Show me the library and I’ll show you an eyelash hunter.”
It took three tries for Greer to find the library. In addition to being a bit blind, she was also tipsy from Chelsea’s champagne. Total lightweight. Once they were able to find the library, though, Chelsea paused. She could hear the partygoers down the hall, no doubt gathering for dinner. “You want to come in with me and look? I could use the company.” She didn’t like being alone.
Greer snorted. “I can’t see five feet in front of me, but sure, I’ll ‘help.’” She made air quotes and then wobbled in after Chelsea. “I’m not going in to sit next to Asher with a bald eyeball, that’s for damn sure.”
The lights in the newly deserted library were for ambiance only, a few pretty Tiffany lamps casting a glow. Other than that, the room was crowded with furniture and shelves, and darker than she’d like. It made Chelsea’s nerves ratchet up a notch, and she went through the room, flicking on light switches.
“I’m pretty sure I was over here by the fireplace the entire time,” Greer said.
“I’m still turning on all the lights,” Chelsea told her. She hated the dark. Couldn’t function with it. Light was warmth and safety. Once they were all on, she relaxed a bit.