Free The Collector by Victoria Scott

in.
    “Charlie? No. This is my time. First I’m going to hook up with Bobbie Brown, woman of great mystical makeup powers…” She pulls out blue eyeliner and gives it a lustful look. “Then I’m going to hook up with Bobbie Davids, boy of great basketball skills.”
    “What?” I say.
    “What?” Blue echoes.
    Annabelle stares at us like she can’t understand why we’re confused. “I’m going to make myself into a hottie, then make out with Bobbie Davids at Taylor’s party.” She brings the blue eyeliner to her eyes and leans toward a prop-up mirror. “I knew tonight was going to be awesome. I just had this gut feeling, you know?”
    “Annabelle, you can’t go to Taylor’s party,” Blue says.
    I’m glad Blue spoke up, because the last thing I need is Charlie’s crew ensuring she stays her same ole prude self.
    “Who says I can’t go to the party?”
    “Your lack of invitation says you can’t go,” he answers.
    “Whatever. It’s not like there were formal invites or anything.”
    I pull the orange envelope out of my pocket and lay it on the table.
    Annabelle stops mid-stroke and stares at the invite, then at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She handed these things out? What is this, the sixteenth century?” She rips the invitation out of the envelope. “It says it’s for you plus a guest. I guess a guest means one , huh?”
    Blue and I nod in unison. I’m glad we agree on one thing.
    “What is she going to do, kick us out?”
    We nod again.
    “Bobbie Davids would see me kicked out on my ass.” Annabelle takes a second to think about this. “Well, what if I want to go, anyway?”
    “Anna, don’t ditch me, all right?” Blue pleads. It’s a little pathetic, actually. But I try not to judge, since he’s doing me a solid.
    “No, you’ll come, too!” Annabelle gets up from the table and grabs his hands. “I’ll do your makeup, sweet cheeks.”
    “Funny.” Blue yanks his hands away. “I’m not going to that party. We’re not invited, or we’d have an invitation.”
    Annabelle’s smile crumbles. She walks over to the table without saying another word and starts loading the makeup back into the trunk. I know the stand-up thing to do would be to invite them along. It’s not like I couldn’t sweet-talk Taylor into letting them stay. But I have an assignment with a big, blubbery D-day, and I’m not letting these two get in the way.
    Annabelle is sliding the makeup trunk back into the den closet when I hear Charlie’s bedroom door open. It’s about freakin’ time.
    Grams glides down the stairs, and a second later, Charlie limps out. She’s as happy as a Care Bear, and I’d love to say she looks like a beauty queen, but she doesn’t. What she does look like is passable , which I’ll take. And for the first time I’m reminded Charlie is seventeen. Her blond hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a tasteful silver necklace. The red dress is killer—strapless, tight through the middle, and ruffles that end mid-thigh—but her lack of curves does nothing for it. Then I notice Charlie has a rack. Color me shocked.
    I quickly glance away when I realize Grams thinks I’m staring at Charlie’s boobs with more than friendly interest.
    Blue smiles like she just gave birth to his firstborn son. I roll my eyes at how obvious he is.
    You can have her body when I’m done with her soul , I want to tell him.
    When Charlie reaches the bottom of the stairs, she takes the hand Blue is offering. “Do I look okay?” she asks, her cheeks reddening with excitement. “The dress is so great.”
    Blue opens his mouth to say something, but he’s way too slow and way too inexperienced to handle this.
    “Charlie,” I say, pausing for added effect. “That dress is nice.” I lean in close and whisper in her ear, “But you make it… hypnotic .”
    Charlie’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. She grabs the bottom of her dress in her hands and squeezes. Then she turns to