There was heat with him. Something that made my breath roughen, my senses go unsteady, my world tilt. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and every cell inside me quivered at the unfamiliar and wondrous feelings he aroused.
I don’t know what that makes us. To be honest, I don’t know why he kissed me. I think he likes me, but I don’t know if it’s a serious-like or casual-like.
But most importantly, I don’t know how far I want to take this thing between us. I can laugh when I’m with him and forget all my worries—my grades, my scholarships, the love-guilt I feel for my grandparents. It’s a new experience, just being a college girl having fun with one of the most popular guys on campus. And when I’m with him, I don’t feel like I’m alone—like I often do with others because I’m not really being seen or heard. It’s a casual type of disrespect—because I’m poor or lost my parents early.
Being with Grant comes with some nuisances—like Sadie, who obviously has a thing for him. But I’ve never let a roadblock get in the way, and I’m not letting her stop me from exploring possibilities. I’m not trying to marry this guy, just figure out how I really feel about him. I can let things progress naturally and see where we end up, even though part of me wonders if I’m moving too fast.
At eight, I clock out. Grant immediately jumps up from his armchair and comes over.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“I don’t know. All the dining halls are closed.” That’s not quite true. There’s a shitty one by Howell Hall that’s open until nine thirty, but he hasn’t waited this long to gothere.
“How about Serrano’s?” he says.
It’s a popular Mexican restaurant. Their food is great and reasonably priced. The fact that they’re only a ten-minute drive away from the campus is a bonus. And the company? Even better. “Sounds good.”
We take my car, since Grant’s is probably still in the polo club parking lot. But even if he got his Maserati back, he shouldn’t be driving. I haven’t forgotten the doc’s warning.
The traffic is minimal—it’s Saturday, and the kids have already had dinner and arrived at whatever party is on their social calendar. Grant looks at my playlist in the car. Paloma Faith’s “Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?” fills the interior, and I tap my fingers to it. Grant doesn’t comment, but listens to it in silence with me.
“Are you lip-syncing?” Grant asks suddenly.
“What?”
“Your mouth is moving.”
It is?He must’ve been watching me closely, and the thought makes my lips tingle. “I sometimes sing along when I drive.”
“Hey, don’t hold back on my behalf.”
“Ha. I’m not embarrassing myself. I sound better in my head than in reality. You sing.”
“I would if I didn’t have to hit those high notes.”
A corner of my mouth quirks. I wonder if he sounds like one of the early contestants forAmerican Idol. Most of them sound awful. The worst thing is that all their humiliating displays are preserved forever on YouTube.
On the other hand, it’s hard to imagine him being bad at anything. If I pick the right song, he might be able to sing pretty well, especially with that gorgeous baritone voice of his.
By the time Paloma Faith’s second song ends, we’re at Serrano’s. A cheery Mexican folk song rings from the speakers, and the scent of chili, lime and sizzling meat and veggies wafts along the cool air. The restaurant’s more than half-empty. The host shows us to a table, and a waiter shows up immediately after.
He introduces himself, offers us some chips and salsa, then wants to give us time to decide on the entrées. But I’m starving. I look at Grant. “You know what you want?”
“Yup.”
I order the dinner special—chicken and shrimp fajitas with an extra order of guacamole—plus pink lemonade. Grant gets the steak burritos and a Coke.
After the waiter’s gone, I lean across the table. “By the way, thanks for earlier.”
“For what?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Getting Sadie and her friends to back off. They can be very persistent.”
He shrugs. “You were doing fine by yourself.”
I dig into the chips and salsa.God, I’m so hungry!I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. “Yeah, but when Sadie gets upset, Bronte and Tanya tend to join the fray. Not my idea of fun.” Administration tries to look the other way when Sadie’s being bitchy because her father graduated from the college and donates regularly. They don’t want to upset one of their more generous ATMs.
“It’s not anybody’s idea of fun. Those three could make a pack of rabid dogs look well balanced.”
