Free Girls Who Travel by Nicole Trilivas Page B

but I already felt closer to who I really was.
    I tried to keep my persistent happiness from bleeding over into thoughts of Lochlon back in Ireland, caring for his dying father, but it wasn’t easy.
    Even though this was the first time that I had legit reason to think that we might actually meet up again, I had already imagined our reunion with embarrassing frequency and in bodice-ripping fashion. It helped that he had actually ripped my clothes off me on more than one occasion in his sudden and passionate way. I could still recall the tingling, lusty head rush of being naked in front of him. A year’s worth of fantasizing left me desperate to feel that way again.

16
    A FEW DAYS later, I accidently ruined the girls’ dinner by taking them to the Kensington Crêperie, where we ordered dessert crêpes roughly the size of Hula-Hoops. The café was cozy and bathed in warm, earthy light, which spilled out of the fogged-up windows like honey. Through the cobblestone plaza outside, people rushed home under winter-bare trees and a misting of frosty rain.
    I made the girls bring their homework, but so far Gwendy and I had just been chatting while Mina filtered in and out of the conversation, mainly staying focused on her cell phone.
    â€œMina and I both go to the same school. But Mina’s school is in a different building from mine, because she’s older. Mina’s the most popular girl in her school—I know it. And she’s also the prettiest—even though Mom says we can’t say that. And she also is the funniest.” Gwen swirled the Nutella around her deconstructed crêpe.
    Mina’s thumbs scurried over her phone. She hadn’t eaten much of her banana crêpe. I eyed it longingly, though I’d just polished off my own (fresh strawberries, white Belgian chocolate, Chantilly cream, and magic).
    â€œJeez, how much are you paying the hobgoblin for these endorsements?” I nudged Mina.
    She skimmed a look away from her phone screen for one solitary second. “What can I say? Gwendolyn has an excellent and observant eye.”
    â€œI have
two
excellent eyes,” corrected Gwen, all abuzz in a souped-up sugar high.
    â€œDo you want the rest of my crêpe, Kika?” Mina asked, noticing that it was the object of my lovestruck gaze. “I don’t want any more.”
    â€œSeriously?” I asked. “Oh, come on, eat it. Carpe diem!”
    â€œHuh?” Mina frowned.
    Gwendy studied her face and then replicated it. “Huh?”
    I sighed and dragged the dish in front of me. “It means ‘YOLO’ in Latin,” I told them before sawing off a bite.
    Mina went back to her phone.
    â€œSo Mina,” I said, trying hard to keep her attention. “Who are you texting?”
    Mina shielded her phone from me. “Um, no one.”
    â€œIs it a boy?”
    Gwen made the obligatory
oooooh
noise.
    Mina glared at us. “I’m texting Peaches Benson-Westwood, my best friend at school. She’s, like, really, really rich. And the most popular girl at school—well, we’re both equally popular.”
    â€œPeaches Benson-Westwood? Do all English people have three-name monikers?” I thought of that guy from the otherday: Aston Hyde Bettencourt. I only remembered his name because it was so snooty and ridiculous.
    The phone absorbed her full attention again. “Pretty much.”
    But then, Mina turned toward the sound of giggles coming from the table next to us. I leaned over her shoulder and stole a glance at her phone screen. She wasn’t texting at all—she was playing Candy Crush Saga.
    She turned back around, and I ruffled Gwen’s hair as a diversion. “And what about you, Gwen? No friends at school yet?”
    â€œNope!” said Gwen cheerfully. “Mom says I don’t play well with others!” She beamed with pride.
    â€œAnd why is that?” I asked.
    â€œBecause the other kids are crack