“What?”
“He’s got you all down for the weekend because he shot you down.”
“That’s not even a thing, okay?” I insisted. Rachel had known about our combined class situation. But I hadn’t given her all the details. I mentioned that he’d started off rude as usual, but that all went fine. I didn’t tell her about the part where he’d actually taught me something about nature and weather forecasting. That we huddled our campers together under a small tarp, which nearly collapsed on us. Or the part where he’d grabbed my hand and run us from under it. I caught myself almost smiling at the memory.
“Okay, if you say so.” She turned back to the mirror.
I hated it when people said things like that. It was like no matter what you said, they were going to stick what they believed.
“Fine. You win. I’ll go get dressed,” I said, throwing my book down and sliding out of bed.
A few minutes later, I was in my navy-blue cotton dress that wasn’t exactly mini but hung just above the knee. It was a warm night, and I preferred to wear something light.
Thirty minutes later, Rachel and I showed up along with a herd of college-age kids from the area. I cringed. I don’t know why I bothered hoping for a smaller crowd. The old warehouse appeared to be a substitute for a frat house. A collection of flimsy plastic chairs lined up along the wall for those who dared to sit in one and give themselves away as dull partygoers. No one looked to be over the age of twenty-one. Normally, I would have felt out of place at a joint like this, but being away from home and my friends, it felt good to be out.
Peter spotted us almost immediately and waved us over—or rather, waved at Rachel. “Hey,” he called out, cheerfully. “You made it. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“In that case, we’re right on time,” she murmured, leaning into me. She flashed a huge smile back at him. “Hey.”
Pete gave her a quick, one-arm hug while holding a beer with the other.
“Amy, glad you made it out. And really glad I didn’t take that bet.” He winked at Rachel. She shook her head and widened her eyes at him in warning.
I gave her a look, and she just shrugged.
“Amy, this is Misha and John.” She pointed to two of Peter’s friends. “And that’s Randy and Terrance. They’re in a band,” she said with another sharp rise of her eyebrow.
I awkwardly stood beside Rachel and waved to her friends. Misha was the only female of the bunch—a tall blonde, no less—and the only one who seemed to give me full head-to-toe scan. The others just smiled and gave me a quick nod. I resisted the urge to scan my outfit. I shrugged it off and decided that I’d be leaving as soon as humanly possible. Not that I could tell you exactly what my scene or type of crowd was, but it wasn’t this.
And to prove it, I spotted Rick with a bunch of familiar faces from the camp and some others I didn’t recognize. Made sense: Rick was from around here, so he would have more friends than just the folks at camp.
“What else do they have besides beer here?” As loud as the place had been, at least four of Peter’s friends heard and looked at me as if I’d asked where the nearest library was. It’s not that I never drank or that I had anything against it. I just hadn’t felt comfortable diving into a bar with a warehouse full of strangers. That and the fact that I was driving.
Rachel unglued her eyes from Peter for a second and turned to me. “Loosen up and have fun.” She nudged me on the arm.
“Not everyone needs one to have a good time.” A mature-sounding male voice said behind me. His long arm circled over my shoulder and he handed me a cup filled with what appeared to be sparkling water.
I turned around to look at the mystery man saving me and found myself facing only a muscular, tight chest. I looked up at the stranger reaching well over six feet. His hair was a dark golden color, his eyes brown, which was my best guess in the dim light. He flashed a warm, bright smile at me, which would have made me melt—had I been that type of girl.
“Thanks.” I sincerely hoped no one heard that squeak over the loud rock music. I quickly cleared my throat. “Thanks. Driving,” I yelled.
“Same here,” he said back, with no attempts to raise his voice, as it clearly held its own. He held up his identical plastic cup and nudged mine, as if to say cheers, and proceeded to take a large sip.
I looked down at the fizzing water and hesitated.
“Hold on.” I looked at him and held up my cup. “Take a sip of this.”
His eyes glimmered at me for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Sure.” He took the cup from me and took a big swig.
“Thanks.” I went to reach for it, but he pulled back.
“Maybe I should get you one bottled?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m good now.” I met his eyes and pulled my cup back.
“I’m Chris.” He held out his hand.
“Amy.”
