“Just trust me on this.”
He frowns. “I know your mom’s keen on this Seth character because he’s one of her prized pupils, but maybe I should have a talk with him before y’all leave so we can set a few ground rules.”
Heat blowtorches through me. “Don’t you dare say a word. That would be so humiliating.”
“I wanna make sure he respects you.”
“He will! Dad, you’ll embarrass me. Please, don’t say anything.”
“I don’t like this, London.”
Dad can be so exasperating. “Why’re you making such a big deal about this? It’s just a simple dance.”
“You’re riding in his car. I need to make sure that he’ll be a gentleman.”
“He will.” My body temp spikes, causing my glasses to fog up to the point where I can’t see a thing. I tear them off and wave them in the air to clear the lenses.
Dad’s expression turns puzzled. “Honey, why’re you getting so upset about this?”
“I just don’t want you to make me look stupid. I asked Seth to this dance, remember? I don’t want him to get weirded out about taking me.”
“I’m sure he’s honored to take you,” Dad responds in a possessive tone that suggests he couldn’t imagine any scenario other than one where Seth is privileged to take his little princess to the dance.
It would be a waste of breath to explain that I’m counting my lucky stars that Seth Cox even agreed to go out with me. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Seth’s younger sister, Cassie, is my closest friend, I never would’ve gotten Seth’s number to text him to begin with. “Just don’t grill him, okay?” My heart hammers like it’s trying to punch through my ribcage.
“Okay.” Dad gives me one of those concernedfather knows bestlooks that drives me berserk. “London, you’re wound up way too tight. You need to relax. Breathe.” He paddles his hands and makes a show of taking in a long breath.
Of course I’m wound up tight. I’m going out with the guy of my dreams. I hate to break it to Dad, but no amount of breathing is going to calm these nerves.
“Your mom sent me up here to get you so she can snap a few pictures before Seth arrives.” He juts his thumb toward the doorway.
I want to get the wretched pictures over with ASAP. I drop my phone into my purse and slide the strap over my shoulder. The last thing I want is to tromp back up the stairs in these skyscraper heels to get my purse after Seth arrives. He’d take one look at me clopping like a horse, and run for the hills. The heelslooked so chic when I tried them on at a trendy store in the mall. Sadly, they didn’t have my size, so I opted for the ones a half a size too big. Big mistake, considering the heels are four inches tall. I thought about returning them but was worried I wouldn’t find anything else that looked as good.
I follow Dad down the stairs, clutching the handrail while trying not to trip over my feet. I should’ve chosen comfort over looks. It’s bound to be a tricky night with these clodhoppers. When we near the bottom of the stairs, my younger brother runs into the foyer. He peers up at me with a taunting grin.
“London’s got a boyfriend,” he sings.
“Shut up, Bryce!”
He makes smooching sounds and kisses his forearm.
My temper ignites in a flash. “Stop it,” I order. If Bryce keeps this up, so help me—heels, dress, curled hair, and all—I’ll pummel his smart mouth.
“Hey.” Dad gives me a warning look. “Don’t be mean to your brother.”
I touch my chest as the words fly out. “He’s the one harassing me.” Bryce always gets a free pass because he’s the youngest. It’s disgusting.
“Be nice to your sister, Bryce,” Dad says in the tone he uses when acting as the mediator.
Bryce throws me a snarky grin and darts off. I love my brother and try to be patient with him, since he’s three years younger. However, in times like tonight, the little menace knows just how to push my buttons.
As I enter the kitchen, Mom exclaims, “You look so beautiful.” She gives me a radiant smile brimming with pride.
“Thanks, Mom.” I touch the arm of my glasses and duck my head. I prefer to fly under the radar and am not used to getting this much praise from my parents, who are overjoyed about me going on my first date.
Mom’s cutting up veggies for a salad. Putting down the knife, she wipes her hands on a dishtowel and reaches for her digital camera. “Let’s take some pictures in the foyer. We’ll get several of you and then a few more when Seth arrives.”
I glance at the clock on the microwave. It’s ten minutes after seven. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. “Sure.”
