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“Ready?” Trace asked.
I nodded. “Mhmm.”
He chuckled and pulled out of the parking lot, waving to a humped over Pete, the owner of the garage, who was scolding one of the mechanics for something.
Trace’s apartment was fairly close to the University, but it took longer than usual to get there because of all the people trying to get into the school for graduation.
My phone rang and I pulled it out of the cup holder where I’d put it earlier.
“Hey mom,” I answered.
“Where are you? Are you at the school? Nick and I are in the parking lot.”
“We’re almost there. Stuck in traffic,” I frowned, craning my neck to see how much further we had to crawl before we could turn into the parking lot. “It’ll probably take us another five minutes. I have a parking pass though. Wanna meet us at the student parking lot and we can all walk over together?”
“Sounds good,” she replied and the line went dead.
We eventually made it into the parking lot and found a spot to park the car. Thank God I wasn’t one of those girls that took forever to get ready, otherwise I probably would’ve missed my own graduation. It was set to start in thirty minutes. Knowing Avery, she’d rush in at the last possible second.
Trace held my hand as we walked towards my mom and Nick, who were standing beneath the shade of one the large trees dotting the campus. I had unzipped my gown and it flowed behind me. A slight breeze picked up and the air felt amazing against my heated skin. It had to be close to one hundred degrees outside and I was already nervous, therefore I was turning into an unattractive sweaty mess…and graduation hadn’t even started yet.
A flash went off and I glared at my mom as we joined them.
“Mom!” I whined. “At least give me a little warning.”
She laughed. “Liv, I learned a long time ago that if I warned you I was taking your picture, you ducked and ran.”
“That’s because I hate having my picture taken,” I defended, fighting a smile.
“You better get over that phobia real quick,” Trace warned.
“Why?” The word had barely left my lips before he was pulling me against him and holding his phone out, snapping a picture.
He let me go and looked down at the phone. “Oh, that’s definitely a keeper.”
I stood on my tiptoes and peered around him to see the picture. “I look like a serial killer!” Trace looked amazing in the picture, of course, while I was cross-eyed and the look on my face screamed crazy person.
“You look cute,” he chuckled.
“Oh please,” I shook my head.
“Well, well, well,” Avery sing-songed saun
tering up to us, “if it isn’t the old married couple,” she poked my side, “and the new married couple.” She smirked at her brother and waved to my mom.
“Glad to see that you’re back to your usual self,” Trace laughed.
Avery frowned, remembering the other night.
“How are you feeling?” I asked her.
“Never better,” she replied too quickly. Before I could comment, she grabbed my hand and began tugging me away. “We need to go get lined up. Like, now.”
I waved over my shoulder to my mom, Nick, and Trace. “I’ll see you guys in a bit,” I called.
Once we were away from them I wrenched myself from Avery’s grasp.
“What the heck is going on with you?”
