“Sure,” Jasmine says. And that’s how we end up sneaking down to the laundry room with strips of black fabric up our shirts, and putting them back in with James’s clothes.

NOW

We never got caught. The producers never aired us doing it, which is totally weird when you think about it. I mean, it was complete drama. Little virgin girl gets dumped and then cuts up loser boy’s shirt with scissors? They live for shit like that. But they didn’t show it. Maybe there was too much going on with Corey’s visit, or maybe someone took pity on us.

It was wrong, I know. I mean, just because James was a dick to Simone didn’t give us any reason to destroy his property. But it certainly helped take my mind off the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, I was going to see my boyfriend for the first time in months. And I was scared to death. Not about seeing him, but about what could happen. Because even then, I think I knew.

THEN

Friday night, the night before Corey comes, I can’t sleep. I know it sounds stupid, but I feel like this is our first date or something, and not just me seeing my boyfriend of two years. I feel like there’s this huge pressure for things to be perfect. Things have to go back to normal when we see each other.

Corey’s flight is getting in at one o’clock, and I spend three-and-a-half hours on Saturday morning getting ready. Which sounds pretty pathetic, I know, but like I said, I want everything to be perfect. I take a long, hot bath and use Jasmine’s plumeria-scented bath salts. I stay in the tub for an hour, exfoliating my skin and deep-conditioning my hair.

It takes another hour to dry my hair and put on my makeup, since I’m attempting to recreate this smoky eye look that’s in this month’s Cosmo. It takes me a few tries, but eventually I get it right and am left with sexy, smoky eyes and kissable lips, thanks to the lip gloss I borrowed from Simone.