Chapter 21
Every hormone in my body lights up when she lets me take her hand. I’d merely been pressing my luck by offering it to her, and I fully expected she’d scowl at my outstretched fingers and march past me. But she didn’t.
Now I can’t stop grinning as I drive us to County Road 59 for what will surely be a party to remember.
I’d been persistent in asking her to come with me, but up until our little moment on the strip today, I was almost certain she’d bail on me.
But she didn’t, and she’s here, and she took my hand, and now her floral scent is filling the cab of my truck with the sweetest smell on earth. Being in Bess’s good graces feels like a dream come true. Now I have to make sure I don’t screw it up.
“How was the rest of your day at work?” I ask. It’s a pretty safe topic, so I shouldn’t be able to turn her off by talking about it.
“We got kind of busy before closing. Some thirteen-year-old girl wanted a ton of stuff her mother wouldn’t buy for her. It got kind of hilarious.” Bess sighs, turning her gaze out the window. “I can’t stand bratty kids.”
“We get our fair share of those,” I say, nodding. “And parents are always bitching that the trendy surf brand shirts cost twenty-five dollars and I’m like dude—they cost us twenty dollars wholesale so get over it. We’re not the ones screwing you.”
She makes this sardonic smile. “Working in retail is such a joy.”
“I’m glad you came with me,” I say. We’re at a red light, so I reach over and poke her in the arm. It’s pathetic and probably something ten-year-olds do to their crush, but what can I say? I’m so excited to be with her that I can’t function properly.
“Thanks for taking me. I never thought I’d be hanging out with a guy like you.”
I straighten. Her words weren’t said with venom, but they still feel kind of mean. “What does that mean? A guy like me?”
She lifts her shoulders. “You know . . . popular.”
“I really wasn’t that popular,” I say, shaking my head. “Colby was the high school god of popularity, not me.”
“But you’re his best friend. You hang out with that whole crowd, so, you can’t really deny it,” she says, lifting her eyebrows to signal that she’s won this argument.
“I wasn’t that bad.” I roll my eyes. It never really occurred to me that I was even a part of the popular crowd until a couple of years ago when Abigail’s little kid friends all knew who I was. They called me and Colby “high school royalty” which was just weird. Maybe the girls like Mindy and her crew pay attention to that status, but I never did.
Bess looks over at me, her eyes narrowing. “Josh Graham. You and I spent the same four years in high school together and you never even knew I existed. Don’t act like the privilege of being Mr. Popular didn’t get to you.”
“Damn.” I flinch under her cold gaze, but soon it fades and she’s looking at me normally again. “You’re right. I’m sorry. If it helps, I wish I did know you in high school. You’re far more beautiful than the bitches I did know.”
Now she’s the one who flinches. She turns back to the passenger window. “You don’t have to say stuff like that,” she murmurs so quietly I almost can’t understand it.
“Stuff like what?” I say, feeling emboldened to keep talking. “You don’t like compliments?”
“Not when they’re forcefully given,” she says, still not looking at me.
“I speak nothing but the truth,” I say. My hand leaves the steering wheel and I want so badly to touch her, run my fingers through her hair, or even grab her hand again. But I think better of it and reach for the wheel. “You really are more beautiful than the girls from high school. You’re a hell of a lot smarter, too. I like that.”
“Josh, I’m here with you, okay? You don’t have to say shit like that. I thought we could be friends.”
“We can,” I stutter. “Weare. Forgive me for trying to see if I can have more than that.”
“More than what?” she says, her words chosen carefully.
I pull off the side of the road and park behind a shiny new Escalade with fog steaming up the windows from whatever elicit activities are going on inside. Cutting the engine, I close the keys in my hand and turn to her. She’s watching me with curiosity and maybe a little fear, I’m not sure. “More than friends,” I say, also choosing my words carefully. “I gave you the opportunity to tell me to fuck off, remember?” I give her a sly grin and she blushes, which totally makes me like her more. “So now I’m afraid you’re stuck with me trying to win you over.”
She rolls her eyes, but a playful smile tugs at her lips. I lean over and slide my fingers down her cheek. Her skin is warm to the touch. “So until you exercise your right to tell me to fuck off . . . “
“Doesn’t look like I’ll do that any time soon,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting closed as I slide my fingers through her hair. It feels exactly ask silky as I imagined. My heart is pounding and every fiber in my body is telling me that this could be the chance I’ve been waiting for. This could be the love I’ve ached to have over the last year.
“We should go inside,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “The longer I’m alone with you, the harder it’ll be to keep being a gentleman.”
Her breath hitches. “Okay,” she squeaks.
