“Well, you agreed to consider going so, why wouldn’t you let me drive you?”
I stop short, because apparently my brain can’t walk and process this information at the same time. “You really want to take me? What if we live far apart?”
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Cherry Street.”
“Perfect, I’m in Shady Grove.”
“That’s like ten to fifteen minutes away,” I say. “In the opposite direction of the barn.”
“It’s nothing. I’ll come get you. Email me your address, okay?” He bumps into me again, a flirty look in his eyes. “Or you know, you could text me, but you’ve been so secretive with your number. I guess I haven’t earned the right to have it yet?”
My lips stretch into a smile and I can’t even help it, I’m grinning like a total dork. “You can have my number,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But no writing it on bathroom stalls.”
He scoffs, putting a hand to this chest. “Why would I risk having to share your attention with some random guy?”
Damn if I’m not starting to believe that maybe he’s actually serious. If he’s faking it, being all nice and flirty just for a joke, then he’s playing the long con here. I hold out my hand and he gives me his phone. I type in my number and press call, waiting until it goes through to my phone. Then I end the call and hand it back.
“What time are you getting me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “That depends if you’ll have dinner with me first.”
Eating in front of Josh Graham? Yeah, right. I shake my head. “Party only.”
He makes this exaggerated frown. “Eight?”
I try not to smile like a crazy person. “Sounds good.”
***
I have good news and bad news.
The good news is that my hair looks fan-freaking-tastic. I’ve managed to pull off a messy beach waves look after watching about fifty YouTube tutorial videos.
The bad news? I’m practically about to throw up every time I think of what I’m doing tonight. I’m going to a party with Josh. In Josh’s car, as if it were almost a date. I am freaking out.
But at least my clothes look great, or as great as a chubby girl possibly can look, and I’ve given myself a manicure for the occasion. It’s probably overkill, but on the off chance that maybe Josh actually does want to be my friend, I want to look good.
My doorbell rings at seven fifty-five and I nearly jump out of my skin. Grandma knows I’m going out “with friends” tonight, but she’s not here. Luckily, she’s out with Julie in what they call a “ladies’ night” that will keep them busy at bingo until probably midnight. So at least the awkward introduction phase won’t have to happen tonight.
I grab my phone and purse and rush to the door, pausing before I open it so I can take a deep breath and gather myself. A terrible fear races through my mind the second I grab the door knob. The whole popular crowd from high school could be just on the other side, waiting to throw water balloons at me and laugh at how pathetic I am for thinking Josh would actually want to take me anywhere. The thought sends me into a panic, and I tiptoe over to the window in the dining room that looks out into the front yard. All I see is a black Ford truck parked in front of my house.
Whew.
I go back to the door and pull it open. Josh is standing there wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt. “You’re early,” I say.
“You’re hot,” he says, his lips quirking into a grin. He holds out his hand to me. “Ready to go?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me. Josh’s hand just stays there, extending toward me as if he wants me to take it.
So I do.
His fingers wrap around mine, all warm and calloused as we walk toward his truck. When we get there, he pulls open the passenger door and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. I climb inside, and turn to close my own door, but he’s standing there, watching me.
“Thanks for letting me take you out,” he says, his dark eyes peering into mine. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
