I set down my backpack and add my makeup to the counter. “It was a very long night after you left.”

I fill her in while I add primer to her face.

“All of this happened last night? And you haven’t heard from him since?”

“Ava said he came by the dorm looking for me.”

She smiles and tries to shoo me off. “Go. I can do my own face.”

“No way. I’ve got you. Let’s just talk about something else.”

“Okay. Like what?”

“Like how nervous I am right now.”

“What? Why? You’ve done my makeup lots of times. It always looks great.”

“But the lights and the people…” My hands tremble. “I’m nervous and I’m not even the one who has to go out there.”

Her sweet laughter relaxes me. “It’s only a dress rehearsal.”

As I work, she studies the script in front of her. I’ve heard her running lines with Dakota enough that I know she’s already got it memorized, but I decide it’s best not to mess with whatever process she has.

When she finally looks up, I’m ready to add another coat of mascara.

“Oh, wow, Ginny.”

“Is it too much?”

“It’s amazing.” She turns her face to look at each side more closely. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“I don’t know about that but thank you.” Mascara wand in hand, I tell her, “Look down.”

Instead of heading back to my dorm or going to class, I stay for the rehearsal. The play is a modern take on A Christmas Carol, and Reagan plays the Ghost of Christmas Present. The green gown she wears could have been made specifically with her in mind. She looks exquisite. That’s my first thought, but the longer she’s on the stage, the more I fall into her character.

I smile as the clock strikes midnight, she bows her head and slowly walks backward until she disappears behind the curtain.

After the rehearsal, she comes down off the front of the stage and finds me in the third row.

“What did you think?”

I pull her into a tight hug. “You are so talented, Reagan.” I let her go to look her in the eye, so she knows how much I mean it, and then I hug her again.

A woman who’d been sitting in the row ahead of me turns and walks toward us. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a tight bun and she wears red-framed glasses that she takes off when she reaches us. She has an air of sophistication and also looks like she might cut a bitch if necessary. “Really well done, Reagan. You found the lighting up there really well.” She steps closer and inspects my friend’s face. “Your makeup…” She makes a little humming noise in her throat. “Who did you use?”