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He drops his head and peers up at me, repeating, “You dare me?”
Though my heart is pounding, I achieve a smug smile I’m now aware bothers him. “Yeah, Brandon. What are you going to do about it?”
His Adam’s apple bobs at a hard swallow.
A streak of heat ricochets through me when he moistens his lips and grunts under his breath. “Hm.”
Brandon trudges from the garden.
Why is my heart thrashing like that? Why does my body become hot whenever he’s close?
I glide over my appearance for the hundredth time and smooth my hands down my yellow dress. Of course, the color effortlessly harmonizes with my brown skin. I tweak my curls again, deciding to leave my hair down, and apply a nude lipgloss.
If my guess is right, Charleston kids will be rocking designer clothes. I’m not trying to fit in, per se, but I do want to look just as good.
Another side is hopeful Brandon will be at the party.
Dad beams at me when I walk into the living room.
“You’re lovely, baby girl,” he praises.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Apprehension sets in, causing slight worry lines. “So, this party. It’s nothing crazy, right?”
I wobble my head. “According to Sam, there won’t be a lot of kids. Just a tamed social.”
“Hm. All right.”
My nerves start acting up again at the sound of knocking on the door.
Sam waves when I answer it. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, girl. Come in.” I glance over her appearance. Her auburn hair is in loose waves, makeup popping. She’s beautiful in her navy-blue knee-length dress that shows her curves—cute black flats to complete the fit.
“You look great, Sam,” I compliment her.
Her giggles are modest and adorable. “Thank you. So do you.”
I motion between them as I introduce. “Sam, this is my dad, Malcolm McNeil. Dad, this is Samantha Davis.”
“Call me Sam,” she says while shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. McNeil.”
“You as well. I’m glad Kay made a friend.”
“Kayla is awesome.” Sam smiles at me, eyes glistening with pure kindness.
“We’re taking off,” I tell Dad.
“Okay. I’m going to head to the bakery and work on tomorrow’s orders. Don’t stay out too late.” He gives my shoulder a loving pat.
“I won’t, Dad. I’ll be back by curfew.”
“All right.” He waves to Sam. “Again, nice meeting you.”
She smiles in return. “You, too. Goodnight.”
We mosey to her car. For the entire drive to Charleston, we sing at the top of our lungs to pop songs amid sharing interests.
