Page 67 of Crew Girl

A car engine sounded outside the house, then went silent. This was it, her first public date with Cam Dillinger.

Her mom was sneaking a peek out the window. “Well, hello, shoulders.” She dropped the curtain. “You didn’t tell me you were dating Superman.”

Aaaand… the mother–daughter bonding had just crossed the boundary into embarrassing territory.

She heard Cam’s footsteps on the porch, but jumped when he knocked on the door even though, duh, obviously that was going to happen. Maybe she needed just a little more mother–daughter mojo. “Do I look okay?”

“You look perfect.”

Mom looked proud anyway. Which meant a lot.

She opened the door. Her mom had called it. Superman might not even rock that suit the way Cam was.

“Teagan.” He shook his head. “Wow.”

“You look nice, too.” Nice? He looked better than nice. He looked… gorgeous. “I’ll be right back. I have to grab my clutch.”

“Cam!” Ella gushed, ushering him in. “Can I get you anything? Water? Soda?” She gave him a wink. “I used to steal my mom’s wine coolers before a dance.”

“Umm.” He glanced at Teagan. “No coolers, thanks. Driving.”

“Right answer.” Ella beamed. “You passed the test.”

There hadn’t been a test. Her mom was a doofus.

Cam held out his arm to Teagan. “Ready?”

“Great!” Her mom grabbed her purse, too. “You two are still okay to give me a lift, right?”

Seriously, Mother? It was bad enough Ella had volunteered to chaperone the dance.

“Kidding! I’ll get there on my own.”

“She’s not kidding.” Teagan grabbed Cam’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “Go, go, go!” They laughed as they ran down the porch steps. Teagan came to a sudden halt when she saw their carriage.

“We’re going in this?”

“Yup.” Cam held open the door for her. “’Fraid so.”

JOSH

Fall Formal was familiar territory. Him and Brit, posing for the photographer. Being told they looked gorgeous. That they looked truly regal. “Regis, you mean,” Josh had joked, as expected. Everybody laughed. Also as expected.

He knew the drill. Brit had written the playbook.

“Yes, that’s good.” The photographer moved in. “Keep staring into each other’s eyes. Great… feel the love.”

Britney beamed up at him; he beamed back.

Was she feeling the love? Was he?

It felt like they were performing. Like they had dragged out last year’s script, dressed it up in new clothes, flashier bling. It was what people expected. No, this didn’t feel like love. It felt… like what he was supposed to do.

He looked up when Baloo barked out a laugh about something on his phone, stemming it when his mom shot him a sharp look.

“Phone down, Bronson,” she reprimanded him. “We’re here for your sister’s big night.”

“It’s kind of also my night,” he muttered, putting his phone away. Maybe he was back on track with his mystery man. Or had found a new one.