When he finally pulls back, he's smiling at me—that genuine smile with the dimples that make my stomach do stupid things.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
“Goodnight, Scotty,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
I take my bag from him, turn, and practically flee into the house. I close the door behind me and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.
“What’s up?” Lyss asks from the living room. Her hair is in a bun, and she’s writing something in her notebook as her eyes drag over me. “Why are you dressed as Princess Blanca? Wait, did you have a gig? Who drove you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“One that I fully intend to hear.”
A truck rumbles outside, prompting Lyss to come over and peek out the window.
She gasps. “Laura Alison Conners, did aguydrive you home?”
I don’t need to open my eyes to know she’s close. I can practically feel her breath on me as she waits for me to answer. Lyss isn’t going to let this go. I know it. So I might as well rip the Band-Aid off.
“It was Scotty,” I say, swallowing.
“Scotty? As in hoagie dick? Wait, why the hell were you with him? What happened?”
“I never said he had a…” I stop myself before I spiral into a conversation I will absolutely regret. “Nothing happened. He just gave me a ride.”
“Mm-hm.” She eyes me knowingly. “Because all purely platonic car rides end with rumpled dresses and messed up princess hair.”
“We didn’t—we’re not—” I shake my head. “Nothing happened.”
“But you want it to.”
“I don't.”
Even I can hear the lie.
“Sure, Jan.” She heads back to the couch and plops down, reaching for her notebook. Then she starts flipping through the pages. “If you’re done lying to both of us, I made popcorn.”
“I’m not lying,” I mutter.
She doesn’t look up or even react, and I know she doesn’t believe me, not for a second.
Peeling myself off the door, I say, “I need to go to bed and figure out my life.”
“Uh-huh. Tell Scotty I said hi in your dreams.”
My only answer is my middle finger as I haul my huge dress up the stairs.
Once my Princess Blanca dress is hung up and I’ve had my shower, I pull on my pajamas and collapse onto my bed.
Finally, a little respite. My body is aching, my mind is whirring, and my lips are tingling over a kiss that never happened.
When I roll onto my side, I see it.
The leather-bound book on my bedside table. The one I haven’t dared to open since Scotty gave it to me.
I've been avoiding it, honestly. Keeping it at arm's length because acknowledging the gift means acknowledging him, and I'm not ready for that. Not when every interaction we have leaves me more confused than the last.
But tonight feels different. He watched me perform and said things no one else has. I can’t ignore him anymore.
