his arm feels. God, I am snobby and superficial.
He swallows. “So, that’s cool, that you dance too.”
I take his hand, his rough palm in my soft one, and tug him forward, toward my house.
Once we get there, I step onto the stoop. On my pedestal, I look down at Luke.
“Quinn,” he says softly. He takes my hands in his, rubbing his thumbs along my wrists. His eyes are all gooey. He’s about to go in for the kill.
“Wait,” I say. “I want to earn this.”
He cocks his head. I continue, “I don’t get a kiss ’til I guess what you studied, remember? Maybe double points if I can guess what your old job was?”
He swallows again, which I don’t get. He’s not really unemployed. I mean he is, but by choice; he came back to take care of his sister. Why does he still feel awkward about it?
I bring my face closer to his. He breathes in quickly.
“Well, can I get a hint or something?” I ask. “I’m not good at guessing things. Not like you are, noticing I had paint under my nails.”
He grins. “That’s a hint.”
“That I have paint under my nails?”
“That I noticed the paint under your nails.”
“Ah,” I say, triumphant. “So, you were a manicurist?”
He smiles sweetly. “If you got that right, you get a kiss...and possibly more?”
I nod.
He reaches his arms out as though he’s making a grand confession. “Yes, I am a manicurist.”
I giggle. His hands move to my waist, cupping my hips. Our foreheads touch. “I knew it,” I whisper, before my lips close over his.
Chapter Eight
There’s nothing like listening to a band alfresco. Especially a band with a banjo. So as Conrad, Mandy and I hand over our tickets to see Dakota Tatum at the Allan amphitheater, I can’t stop smiling. I’ve been wanting to see her since a freshman hallmate introduced me to her songs three years ago. Liking her, and bluegrass in general, was one of the ways my high school friends, who mostly matriculated to the Ivies in the north, said Virginia had finally swallowed me up. Sure, we had all grown up in Alexandria, which is in Virginia. But only sort of.
After we get in, Conrad taps my shoulder. “Hey, I’ll meet up with you guys in our section.” He nods to an adorable guy with fresh hair, wide-rim glasses and skinny jeans that actually work on him. “I have chemistry lab with that guy. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the hottest pepper in the bucket.” Conrad is so corny, he makes up his own corny sayings.
I slap his lower back. Okay, some may argue I slap his upper tuchus. “Go get ’em cowboy.”
“I’ll try to snag him in two toots of the horn.” He tips his imaginary cowboy hat and saunters over. I turn to catch up with Mandy, who had walked a little ahead, but after two steps I’m hit in the shoulder. Hard.
Natalie.
“Oh, sorry,” she says in a way that clearly indicates that she not only isn’t sorry but she intended it.
I mean, I get it. If I had a sister who was killed, I’d probably hate everyone who may even somehow in some small way be related to her death too. But only to a point.
“How are you, Natalie?” I ask.
She leans back. “Okay,” she says. “Except there are too many Poe kids at this concert. Don’t y’all have your own campus concerts to go to?” She frowns.
“I like Dakota Tatum too,” I say as I tug against the little streamers that flow off my dress.
Blissfully, Mandy has picked up on my disappearance. She has zoomed back and swooped around me. The tension in my neck lets up a little, and I stand taller.
“You should leave,” Natalie says to us. “Everyone knows you were at the party. No one wants you around.”
“Natalie—” I roll my neck a bit, I can’t help it, “—half of Poe was at that party.”
“And that half of Poe isn’t welcome here.”
“Natalie,” I say, “we’re all really sorry that Lynn is gone. She seemed like an amazing person. I read in her obituary how she volunteered at the animal shelter
He swallows. “So, that’s cool, that you dance too.”
I take his hand, his rough palm in my soft one, and tug him forward, toward my house.
Once we get there, I step onto the stoop. On my pedestal, I look down at Luke.
“Quinn,” he says softly. He takes my hands in his, rubbing his thumbs along my wrists. His eyes are all gooey. He’s about to go in for the kill.
“Wait,” I say. “I want to earn this.”
He cocks his head. I continue, “I don’t get a kiss ’til I guess what you studied, remember? Maybe double points if I can guess what your old job was?”
He swallows again, which I don’t get. He’s not really unemployed. I mean he is, but by choice; he came back to take care of his sister. Why does he still feel awkward about it?
I bring my face closer to his. He breathes in quickly.
“Well, can I get a hint or something?” I ask. “I’m not good at guessing things. Not like you are, noticing I had paint under my nails.”
He grins. “That’s a hint.”
“That I have paint under my nails?”
“That I noticed the paint under your nails.”
“Ah,” I say, triumphant. “So, you were a manicurist?”
He smiles sweetly. “If you got that right, you get a kiss...and possibly more?”
I nod.
He reaches his arms out as though he’s making a grand confession. “Yes, I am a manicurist.”
I giggle. His hands move to my waist, cupping my hips. Our foreheads touch. “I knew it,” I whisper, before my lips close over his.
Chapter Eight
There’s nothing like listening to a band alfresco. Especially a band with a banjo. So as Conrad, Mandy and I hand over our tickets to see Dakota Tatum at the Allan amphitheater, I can’t stop smiling. I’ve been wanting to see her since a freshman hallmate introduced me to her songs three years ago. Liking her, and bluegrass in general, was one of the ways my high school friends, who mostly matriculated to the Ivies in the north, said Virginia had finally swallowed me up. Sure, we had all grown up in Alexandria, which is in Virginia. But only sort of.
After we get in, Conrad taps my shoulder. “Hey, I’ll meet up with you guys in our section.” He nods to an adorable guy with fresh hair, wide-rim glasses and skinny jeans that actually work on him. “I have chemistry lab with that guy. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the hottest pepper in the bucket.” Conrad is so corny, he makes up his own corny sayings.
I slap his lower back. Okay, some may argue I slap his upper tuchus. “Go get ’em cowboy.”
“I’ll try to snag him in two toots of the horn.” He tips his imaginary cowboy hat and saunters over. I turn to catch up with Mandy, who had walked a little ahead, but after two steps I’m hit in the shoulder. Hard.
Natalie.
“Oh, sorry,” she says in a way that clearly indicates that she not only isn’t sorry but she intended it.
I mean, I get it. If I had a sister who was killed, I’d probably hate everyone who may even somehow in some small way be related to her death too. But only to a point.
“How are you, Natalie?” I ask.
She leans back. “Okay,” she says. “Except there are too many Poe kids at this concert. Don’t y’all have your own campus concerts to go to?” She frowns.
“I like Dakota Tatum too,” I say as I tug against the little streamers that flow off my dress.
Blissfully, Mandy has picked up on my disappearance. She has zoomed back and swooped around me. The tension in my neck lets up a little, and I stand taller.
“You should leave,” Natalie says to us. “Everyone knows you were at the party. No one wants you around.”
“Natalie—” I roll my neck a bit, I can’t help it, “—half of Poe was at that party.”
“And that half of Poe isn’t welcome here.”
“Natalie,” I say, “we’re all really sorry that Lynn is gone. She seemed like an amazing person. I read in her obituary how she volunteered at the animal shelter
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