But shimmery lilac eyeshadow warmed my brown eyes, the red lipstick made my lips look fuller, and the bronze highlighter on my cheeks complimented my darker skin tone.

Gone were the usual baggy, shapeless shirts and skirts I usually wore. I’d bought this dress specifically for tonight, and I’d never worn anything like it before. It was black and tight around the chest, showing off what I normally hid. The waist gathered under the breasts and was loose around the belly and hips, camouflaging the rounded hips no amount of cardio would get rid of. The flirty hem of the dress skimmed the top of my thighs.

I was even wearing heels—black heels with all these straps.

There was a good chance I’d break my neck tonight, but I felt . . .

I felt pretty. Maybe even . . . sexy.

Heat invaded my cheeks, and I rolled my eyes at myself. Fiddling with the bangle around my wrist, I turned and checked the time. I’d need to leave soon. My stomach dropped a little, and I forced myself to take a deep breath as I turned back to the mirror.

Tiny little balls of nerves filled my stomach. I’d spent so much time with Brock, years really. Spending time together in the pool in the backyard, when the summer days were long and the nights even longer. Sharing dinners with my family and sitting side by side on the porch swing. Chasing after him and my younger uncles when they left to play ball or headed to the Academy to train. Katie had been right earlier. I had been Brock’s shadow since I was eight and he was fourteen. Most boys his age would’ve been annoyed with a girl snapping at his heel every waking second he was around her, but Brock never made me feel like I was unwanted or that he was annoyed.

In spite of our age difference, he’d become my closest friend. When my uncles or cousins didn’t want me tagging along, he was there to stand up for me and always made sure I was included. He talked to me about things—about his father and his mother—things I knew he spoke to no one else about, especially the girls he hooked up with. We shared secrets and stories. When high school became . . . became hard, he was a shelter whenever I saw him. He never treated me a certain way because of who my father was or what my family did. And when every guy at my school had been too afraid to ask me out because of said crazy family, it had been Brock who had escorted me to my senior prom after I’d said I wasn’t going.

I smiled at the memory.