A Taste of Utopia Read Free Page A

that line of thinking tonight. Apparently, I’m Cinderella and she’s my Fairy Godmother.
    “You’re hurting me,” I protest to no avail. Chloe continues to curl my hair into submission. “And Maleficent is from Sleeping Beauty, not Cinderella. ”
    “Technicality. They’re all fairy tales.” She continues to tame my hair with the curling iron. “Beauty has a price, Lottie. And tonight we’re both paying up.”
    I huff out and blow a strand of hair falling over my eyes. To celebrate my twenty-first birthday, Chloe brought me to her home in Vegas. We’re going clubbing. God help me.
    With a smile in her voice, she continues. “Tonight, you’re going to have your very first orgasm. It will be the dawn of a new era in our lives.”
    I open my mouth to confess the truth to Chloe. “Yes, that’s the plan,” I say instead.
    Coward, you’re the worst friend in the history of friends. Guilt gnaws at my chest.
    Chloe and I met in the dorms at Yale during our freshman year. We were two geeks who hit it off within the first five minutes together. And I knew immediately that I had found a friend to the end of time.
    When we first met, for a reason beyond my understanding, we talked about sex. I wanted to impress her—we would be roommates for a year! So I told her I had had sex with my high school boyfriend. I also said I hadn’t had an orgasm, and we broke up right after.
    In reality, we never consummated the act. At the last minute, I couldn’t go through with it. As a result, I became the laughing stock of the school. Things like “Frigid,” “Celibate Belt,” and “Holy Virgin Mary,” were often written outside my locker.
    Now here we are, years later, and I haven’t had the courage to ‘fess up and tell Chloe I had lied to her on that first day we met, that I am still a virgin.
    Every year since we met, we’ve roomed together. During summer vacations and holidays, we spend time at each other’s houses. In her case, the penthouse of the Constellation.
    How can I come clean after all these years of being the bestest of best friends?
    “Ouch, my ear.” I place a protective hand over my singed earlobe.
    “Shut up and put your big-girl panties on,” she says sternly, but I hear a smile in her voice.
    “You just burned me. Again!”
    “Shush or I swear to God, your twenty-first birthday will be memorable for the wrong reasons.”
    I slip back into the role of Bella from Twilight or Anastasia from Fifty Shades of Gray. Chloe and I are both bookworms. Hence, her silly attempts to play Alice or Kate and doll me up. I accept the part knowing it makes her happy. However, in reality this spectacle is the dramatization of a different book. Beauty and the Beast. And I play the part of Beast when they tried to beautify him for Belle.
    For the next two hours, Chloe pulls, curls, infuses a bottle of hair spray on my hair, and uses hundreds of bobby pins. Relentlessly, she applies layers upon layers of makeup on my face.
    Finally, with her face beaming with satisfaction, Chloe runs her fingers through the tight curls falling over my shoulders.
    “Why go to all of the trouble of curling my hair if you’re going to just smooth it out?” I ask irritated.
    She doesn’t make any sense. Pull straight, curl, pull straight again. Argh.
    “Just shut up,” she says with a proud smile spreading on her face. She applies another layer of lipstick on my painted lips.
    “Oh God, Lottie.” She sighs. “Close your eyes.”
    I obey.
    She grabs my hand and guides me. “Right here.” We both come to a halt. Anxiety snakes its way through my chest, making me inhale a much-needed breath of air.
    “Open your eyes,” Chloe says softly.
    I hesitate. Mostly because I’m schooling my face into my best fake smile. I don’t want to disappoint her. Despite Chloe’s efforts, she isn’t a miracle maker. I wasn’t blessed in the beauty department.
    Reluctantly, I succumb. When my eyes find the image reflected in the mirror, they