“Fine. I’ll climb back out the window and meet you out front.”
“Where are we going?” she asks, grabbing my arm.
“I’m taking you to the dance.”
“Tripp, you don’t have to do that. I know you have better things to do than—”
“No, I don’t. Not tonight.”
Nothing is more important than making up for ruining her night. I should have stayed out of it. But in the moment, it felt impossible.
There’s a hopeful glint in her eyes that feels dangerous. Like maybe she’s thinking about me the same way I think about her. But then she blinks it away and nods.
“I’ll be down in a minute. I need to fix my makeup.”
“You look beautiful the way you are.”
She pulls back, looking at me like I’m deranged. “I look like a pathetic raccoon. My makeup’s all smudged.”
Before I can protest anymore, she slips out of her bedroom. I roll my eyes and start to climb out the window, but the crinkling of a wrapper reminds me of what’s in my shirt pocket. I pull out the Peanut Butter M&M’s, tossing them onto her bed with a soft thud.
The night is still heavy with humidity, and my palms are sweaty as I shimmy back down the tree. Fuck. I should really start using the front door.
I wipe them on my jeans before I round the porch and march up the stairs to knock on the door. It swings open before I have the chance, and Quinn smiles up at me, the black streaks washed off her face.
“That was quick.”
“I’ve perfected my makeup routine. I can do a full face in five minutes, and I just needed to touch it up a bit.”
“It looks good,” I say, opening the door of my truck for her.
She gnaws on her lip, gaze dropping to her cowgirl boots as she mutters a quiet “thanks” and climbs in the truck.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to the fairgrounds, and while it’s not awkward, itissilent, so I turn on the radio, grateful when I hear one of Quinn’s favorites. She hums along and before long, we’re both singing at the top of our lungs. Quinn’s laughter tugs at something in my chest.
It feels important—this moment—but for the life of me, I’m not sure why. If she were anyone else, maybe this could be the start of something, but she’s not.
She’s Wes’ sister.
And she’ll be gone, just like her brother, when she starts college next year.
When we get to the fairgrounds, the music is blaring through the warm summer air. I glance at Quinn, who’s staring up at the stars sparkling in the sky like it’s the most awe-inspiring thing she’s ever seen. The stars are beautiful, but the night sky has nothing on her.
“I can never see the stars like this at home,” she says when she sees me watching her. She inhales a deep breath. “It’s what I love about it out here. It’s so wide open and it makes me feel free, not as claustrophobic as the city.”
I nod.
“You’re not planning on just dropping me off and leaving, are you?”
I shoot her a glance.
That had been my plan. But then I’d gotten out of my truck and saw her eyes pinned to the sky, and now I can’t seem to pull myself away.
As we weave through the picnic tables in the beer garden, the smells of funnel cakes and corn dogs frying waft on the night breeze. I spot the pavilion where the music is playing.
“Stay. Please?” she says, her big blue eyes pleading. “Just one dance.”
I can’t say no to her. Not when she looks at me with that adorably expectant gaze. Not when I know this might be the last time we have together like this.
