There was still time before school. Still time before her mother started packing up the Lincoln and her life went back to meal plans and check-ins and “How was class today?” But right now, she was sittingon a splintered picnic bench with a boy who smelled like cedarwood and ink, the two of them staring at the stars. Nora wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at the nighttime sky again without thinking of this moment.
“There’s still a couple weeks before Woodstock.” Joe’s fingers lightly skimmed her wrist. “What are you guys going to do in the meantime?”
Nora exhaled, letting her head lean into his shoulder. “I don’t know. Mom hasn’t really said. We could head back home, regroup, then go to the concert. But I don’t think Grandma’s doing that.”
He tilted his head toward her. “Nope. Word is Shep and the band have a few gigs lined up. They’ve invited her to come with.”
“They what?” She worked to keep her mouth from falling open.
Joe grinned. “She’s kind of a star now. They’re calling her their secret weapon.”
Nora laughed, her cheeks warming with pride. “I still can’t believe any of this is real.”
“I can,” Joe said. “You’ve got the kind of family people write songs about.”
“More like operas,” she muttered, and they both cracked up.
Then he asked, “You ready for college?”
Nora bit her lip. “Yes. And no.” She glanced up at the stars. “I think I’m more ready for the things they don’t grade you on. Like…figuring out who I am when I’m not being told what to do every second.”
Joe’s arm slipped around her shoulders, and she didn’t flinch or pretend to fix her hair. She just let it happen. Let herself melt into the closeness.
“I get that,” he said, his voice softer now. “It’s going to be hard for me to head back to class after I’ve been on the beat this summer. I’ve got your grandma to thank for all the bylines I’ve had. Only two years left though.”
“And a great start to a portfolio. She’ll love that,” Nora smiled. “Allthanks to a rockin’ grandma who decided to vanish from the suburbs and hit the stage.”
Joe let out a low laugh. “Now that’s a headline.”
Nora looked at him, really looked at him, feeling time fold around them like the soft hum of a vinyl spinning its last track. “Sometimes I think this whole summer’s been a dream,” she whispered. “Like we got dropped inside someone else’s story.”
He brushed a hair from her cheek. “Well, if it is…I hope we don’t get to the end just yet.”
She didn’t know what the future held—not for her, her writing, and definitely not for whatever this was with Joe. They’d both be in college come fall. But not the same college. Not close enough to hop over and say hello either.
So when he tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing against her cheek with the same gentleness he used on his notebook pages, Nora didn’t flinch. She didn’t panic. She didn’t pull away.
This time, she leaned in.
She met him halfway, lips soft and certain, and let the kiss happen. Let herself feel it. The slow-burn heat of his mouth on hers, the press of his fingers at her waist. He’d kissed her at the festival, but this seemed different. Joe kissed like he wrote—intentionally, curiously, with just the right mix of confidence and restraint. Maybe it was the French blood in him. Or perhaps it was just that he was different. Either way, when his hand traced the line of her arm and stopped just under her ribs, her breath caught. Not from nerves, but from the dizzying realization that she actually wanted this.
Wanted him.
And maybe, just maybe, wanted to stop being the perfect girl with the perfect grades and the perfectly laid out life.
So she said it before she could second-guess herself: “Where’s your room?”
Joe froze, blinking at her like she’d just quoted Poe in the middle of a Beatles concert.
“Are you…sure?” Even in the dim light, she could see the slow bob of his neck when he swallowed.
Nora nodded slowly, the damp heat of the day clinging to her skin. “I like that when I’m with you, I can let go. I don’t feel like I have to follow every rule.”
He studied her face like he was sketching her from memory. And then, ever so slightly, he nodded.
“C’mon,” he said, taking her hand.
They practically ran back to the motel, hands clasped, hearts thudding, half-laughing from nerves and anticipation. Nora was grateful to see his room was on the opposite side of the building from where her mother was staying. The last thing she needed was for Leanne to hear anything that might make her barge in wielding maternal concern like a weapon.
