Page 94 of Saints & Sailors

It hadn’t been that long, but Meadow Grove felt like home. I liked the life I was slowly building here. Even if my friends did all end up leaving me behind as they headed off to college.

“Maybe not. This place isn’t that bad,” I confessed with a small shrug.

Relief swept through Scott as he visibly released a breath and relaxed. “Good to know.”

“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t date,” I was quick to add.

Scott ducked his head. “So I’ve been told.”

Down below I could hear the front door ringing just over the sound of Skid Row.

Scott pivoted toward the staircase. “Expecting someone?”

My phone laid beside me and a tap at the screen found no missed calls or texts. “No.”

I got out of bed and followed Scott down to the first floor. Behind the frosted glass I spotted Dreux at the front door. And suddenly I was nervous.

Scott looped his key ring around his finger and smiled back at me before pulling the door open.

And there he was.

My religion? Dreux St. Julien in a tight gray T-shirt. The top accentuated everything I knew about his body. Before Meadow Grove the closest thing I had to a type was thin rock star wannabes who smelled of cigarettes, whiskey, and bad decisions. Now, I was beginning to see the benefits of boys and organized sports.

“Evening, Dreux,” Scott greeted him as he stepped outside and past him.

Dreux tipped his head toward Scott. “Hey.”

In Dreux’s hands was a camera, something that caught Scott’s eye. “School project?”

“Something like that.”

Scott glanced my way. “Won’t be gone too long.”

He took off for his truck and I let Dreux in. A hint of his cologne breezed by me and I hoped he didn’t notice me shiver.

Dreux stood beside me watching as Scott climbed into his Ford before I shut the door. He regarded me with a small smile that made my cheeks warm.

“I got something I wanna show you,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

And then, as if he knew the house better than me, he took the lead down the hall, leaving me to follow. He went over to Scott’s den and took a seat at the piano.

“You play?” I asked as he got situated.

Dreux snorted. “I practically grew up in this room before baseball.” I shouldn’t have been jealous, but I was. He looked my way and patted the spot next to him. “Come sit.”

Something in my chest jumped and I felt a flush wash over me. How was I hot and cold? God, I’d hate to be coming down with something.

Internally, I was a mess, but I outwardly played it cool as I sat beside him.

Dreux didn’t say a word. He was busy pressing his fingers to the keys and beginning a tune. It took a few notes into his playing before I recognized “Just for Fun” by Beyoncé and Willie Jones.

“No way,” I let out as my mouth fell open in awe of Dreux’s impeccable skill.

He tossed me a grin. “Sing, Sabrina Carpenter.”

I hated myself for smiling like an idiot at the remark.

My phone was back in my bedroom, but Dreux was prepared as he got up and slipped me his cell phone before going and propping up the digital camera to record us.