“Yes, you buffoon,” she grins, the affectionate insult making me groan, which of course makes her giggle. But I don’t care. She can tease me all day, every day, if it means I get to hear that beautiful sound.
Twenty
ANDREA
“I like the red one.”
I finish dragging black eyeliner across my waterline, glancing in the vanity’s mirror at the reflection of my sister contemplating the sweater options splayed across my bed. A damn mouse, that one— silently sneaking around until she wants her presence known.
Replacing the cap on the pencil, I toss it back in the drawer and spin on the stool.
“It’s a little low cut.”
“Red is your color, though.” Lilly shrugs. “Plus, it’s a date.”
I cross the room and pluck the red knit from the pile. “Not if anyone asks.”
“Right.” She smirks and perches on the edge of the bed. “You’re going to Melissa’s for a Galentine’s party.”
I pull the sweater over my head. “Precisely.”
She hugs her knees to her chest, watching as I run the straightener through my hair again.
“You really like him.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I do.”
In my mind’s eye, Seba’s shy smile blooms, followed by an almost imperceptible blush on the tops of his ears. Flutteringwings stir in my chest. Sure, I’ve had schoolgirl crushes on boys before, but always on the ones who never looked at me twice. The few times I’ve been asked out ended with me spewing a laundry list of excuses for why we would be better off as friends.
But with Seba…
It’s like a gravitational undercurrent has us orbiting each other just out of reach. Round and round we go, the velocity increasing, each loop tightening in circumference. Is tonight just another lap around the invisible track? Possibly. But at the rate we’re spinning, there’s no stopping it now.
Collision is inevitable.
My phone vibrates on the glass vanity top.
Seba:
Ready when you are.
I tuck my phone in the pocket of my jeans and shove my feet into my sneakers, peeking up at my sister.
“Text me if they get suspicious.”
“They won’t.”
I glare at her until she rolls her eyes. “I will. Now go.”
I’m flying down the stairs and out the front door before I can second-guess my reckless decision. A burst of adrenaline tingles through me at the sight of the truck waiting at the end of the street beneath a canopy of Spanish moss hanging from the old oaks. Dried seed pods crunch under my shoes as I jog to the passenger side. The door pops open at the same time I reach for the handle.
Seba smiles and leans over the console, “Hey.”
I hoist myself into the bucket seat, embarrassingly breathless.
“Hurry, before I turn back into a pumpkin.”
“As you command, Princess,” he chuckles, heading in the opposite direction of the pier.
