AllFreeNovel
Share Us
So they could drive to Drew McKay’s house.
Maybe a movie with Mom wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Her mom studied her. “Just you and Quinn?”
Becca averted her eyes and downed the last of her milk. “Yeah, Mom, who else?”
“Well, you look very pretty.”
“It’s just an old pullover.” Thank god the house had been chilly. Otherwise her mom might have seen her in that silk top that exposed half an inch of midriff and made it look like she had a chest to write home about.
Monica can kiss my ass.
“I meant your hair. The makeup.”
That had taken forty-five minutes. She’d actually had to hunt for the curling iron.
Becca started to put her glass in the sink, then thought better of it and rinsed it for the dishwasher since her mom was standing right there. “It’s a Friday night. You know.”
“I know.” Her mom was leaning against the refrigerator now.
Becca bit the inside of her cheek, sure she was blushing.
“Wow,” she said, looking in the general direction of the clock, though her brain was too addled to register the time. She grabbed her bag and her car keys. “I’d better get going if we’re going to get popcorn and stuff.”
Her mom was still watching her just a little too carefully. “Be careful, Bex. Not too late, okay?”
“Sure, Mom.” She’d almost made it to the front door.
“I’ll be up when you get home.”
Can’t wait.
Then Becca was out the door and into her car, well aware her mom watched her pull down the driveway, roll down the street, and waited at the window until she made the turn toward Quinn’s house.
Quinn wore a beaded tank, Capri pants, and strappy sandals, an outfit that demanded nicer weather. Her blond hair hung straight and shiny down her back, swinging when she jumped into the car.
Quinn was fishing through the glove box for gum. “Why didn’t you let Hunter pick you up?”
Because that meant it was a date. This wasn’t a date. This was a dare. Becca started to bite at her cuticles, then told herself to knock it off. “I wanted a getaway car.”
Quinn laughed—but when Becca didn’t join her, she stared. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“What do you think Drew’s going to do, throw you down and rape you right in front of the soccer team?”
That was probably number five on her list of worries. “I’m hoping Drew doesn’t notice I’m there.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Seriously.” Quinn sounded hurt.
“Thanks. Seriously.” But Becca didn’t feel like she’d done anything to be proud of.
Drew lived down off River Bay Road, in an old shore house that could fit two of hers inside it. The house backed up to one of the many tributaries of the Chesapeake Bay, and sported a thirty-foot span of beach beyond his backyard. The water was nothing you’d want to swim in, but the beach was nice in the summer; just enough sand to make you feel like you were vacationing all the time.
