And for once, she didn’t try to deflect it with sarcasm or self-deprecation.
She just said, “Thanks.”
The knock came just as Ali was slipping on her sneakers.
She froze, laces still undone, hair damp from the shower she’d rushed through ten minutes earlier. It was already 7:40, and she was going to have to haul ass to get to her 8am on time.
Daisy groaned from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from her mouth. “Can you get that?”
Ali padded to the door and cracked it open.
Dylan stood there holding two iced coffees and a paper bag.
He grinned. “Morning. I come bearing caffeine and carbs.”
Her heart did a full somersault. She blinked, momentarily stunned.
“I—uh—”
Daisy came up behind her, spitting toothpaste into a water bottle like it was an everyday occurrence. “DYLAN! Ugh, you’re literally a hero. Is that cinnamon swirl?”
He handed her the bag. “Two cinnamon swirls and a ham and cheese croissant. I guessed.”
Daisy gave him a quick hug and slung her backpack on without hesitation. “You walking us to class?”
“If you don’t mind,” he said, glancing once at Ali. “Thought I’d get some steps in.”
Daisy was already halfway down the hall.
Ali, on the other hand, still hadn’t moved. She could feel her pulse behind her knees. She tied one shoe. Fumbled the laces on the other. Then finally stood, brushing invisible lint from her biker shorts like that would ground her.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she mumbled, taking the one labeled with a messyAllyon the side. They never spelled her name right.
He smiled, his eyes warm. “Of course.”
But she couldn’t look at him for too long. Not after yesterday…
They’d all crammed into Dylan’s Jeep Wrangler for the drive to Honeyshore, the doors off and the radio blasting. Dylan drove. Daisy sat shotgun. Ali took the backseat.
She wasn’t expecting him to keep checking the rearview mirror. Not like that. Not like she was the most interesting part of the trip.
Every time their eyes met, her stomach dipped like the road beneath them had disappeared.
At dinner, seated at the long, weathered table with fried chicken and cornbread, Dylan sat directly across from her. And she swore—swore— he kept brushing her knee with his under the table. It could’ve been an accident. Except it happened more than once.
And each time she’d look up, startled, he was already looking at her. Heat blooming in his cheeks. And something else too— something sharp and curious and unmistakably interested.
Daisy hadn’t noticed a thing. She’d been too busy gabbing about her Communications class and asking if she could borrow Dylan’s Jeep for the Jekyll Island trip next weekend.
But Ali had noticed everything.
She adjusted the strap on her backpack as they made their way down the sidewalk, side by side. Dylan didn’t push, didn’t tease. Just walked next to her, sipping his coffee like this was normal.
Like he hadn’t been secretly flirting with her under his mama’s kitchen table.
“Sleep okay?” he asked casually.
She nodded. “You?”
