I let out a little sound of frustration because never has my heart and mind been at such odds. Okay, that’s not true. They engage in war anytime I think about Chase Collins. Now he’s here in person, we’re dancing, and he’s being flirty. It’s confusing the heck out of me.
“What if this turns into the first of many dances?”
My pulse doubles as we swirl around the parquet floor, weaving gracefully between other couples.
The song changes and is a little more upbeat, but he doesn’t let go.
“I’m not seventeen and gullible anymore. I’m a confident career woman making my way in the world and not subject to the silly whims and pranks of teenage boys...or men.”
“Fair enough. I’ll fix that, by the way.”
“There’s nothing to fix. Nothing is broken.” Except for my sense of self-preservation. My teenage pride. Okay, my heart was a little broken. A lot.
We pass the moms who wave at us like we just granted a wish they didn’t know they had. They all but coo and ask us when they should start planning for grandchildren.
“Pippa, I wasn’t expecting you,” Chase says softly.
I lean back in surprise, trying to calculate the meaning of his tone. TheI wasn’tpart was spoken normally. Then he said,expectingwith a slight emphasis. I’m not sure whetheryou, meaning me, was followed by a period or an exclamation point. I can’t tell. I’m afraid to.
His eyes sparkle, as usual, so I’m not sure whether to be flattered by his comment or offended, considering I’m Sponge-girl—and that’s not some comic superhero action hero, though that would’ve been cool.
12
CHASE
Icannot figure Pippa out and I like it. I don’t know what to expect out of her mouth and I don’t mind.
I’ve enjoyed what she calls rambling. Her pink nail polish is sweet. Her British accent is alluring—like she speaks in secrets.
But I know hers and it’s that she had a crush on me in high school. The feeling was mutual, but I worked so hard to create distance between us because of Freddie, I’m not sure how to close it now.
Then again, we are pretty close. Her hand is in mine. Her other one clutches my shoulder. Mine on her waist. Our bodies occasionally brush. A warm sensation grows between us.
“You were different in high school,” I say.
“I should hope so. That was over ten years ago. It wouldn’t be right if I still acted like a silly teenager with hearts in my eyes. I had stars too. Sometimes I still do.”
Everything she says makes me smile.
“Please don’t laugh at me,” she says quietly.
“I wasn’t laughing at you. I meant that you were quieter.”
“Did we attend the same Hinnifin Hall? If I’m not mistaken, every student in our graduating class had a Pippa story. Marlow created a thread in the alumni chat group for this express purpose.”
“She didn’t.”
“You can go look for yourself. I’m sure you’ll have a laugh.”
“Not at your expense.”
“Then it would seem you’ve changed, too.”
“For sure. I’m glad we reconnected. You look—” Before I can saybeautiful, she interrupts.
“Phoebe said I had a major glow-up and improved with age like cheese—I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or if I should be concerned that my sister compared me to a dairy product.”
“Definitely a compliment.”
