“Sorry to interrupt,” Brit says slowly.
“We just needed a refill on beer,” adds Jake.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I blurt out, ducking my head to hide my flaming cheeks. “Go ahead. You’re not interrupting.”
“I have some work I need to finish,” Landon mutters, and he strides out of the room before I can stop him. I exhale a disappointed breath.
“Okay. What the fuck was that?” asks Brit.
I stare at the space Landon just occupied. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
But I’d give anything to hear what he was about to say. Anything.
THIRTY-ONE
“Well, how do I look?” I ask, adjusting my sparkly earring as I step into the kitchen. It’s the night of the Accident Prone concert, and I took extra care with my makeup, adding a dark, smoky eye and shiny, pink gloss. I even went so far as to curl my hair into soft, styled waves that really accentuate my natural reddish-brown highlights. It feels good to be dressed up, especially since I spend most of my time with a clean face and slicked-back ponytail. “Think I can convince Alex Masen to sign my cleavage in this outfit?”
Eli, who somehow detached himself from Lemon for the evening and just finished raiding Landon’s fridge, gives me a once-over and whistles. “Damn, Peps. If you were my girlfriend, I would not let you leave the house looking like that.”
I snort at that. “While I appreciate the sentiment, Eli, that remark was extremely misogynistic.”
Eli shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth and shrugs. “True, but the fact is you look hot.”
I smile at him, smoothing down my strapless, black dress. “Thanks.”
“Landon!” Eli yells out of nowhere, making me flinch. “Get your ass down here!”
I widen my eyes at him, adamantly shaking my head, but he only smirks at me. The moment I hear Landon’s footsteps descending the stairs, my heart starts hammering against the wall of my chest.
Since the day at the pool, being around Landon makes me strangely…jittery. Probably because his words have been stuck in my head like an obnoxiously catchy pop song, and no matter what I do, I can’t get them out. Even listening to Accident Prone’s latest album on repeat doesn’t help.
I don’t think you understand how fucking good you look in these photos, Violet.
“Eli, I was in the middle of something. What do you…” Landon’s voice trails off. He freezes in the doorway, his eyes scanning slowly over my body in a way that has a blush working up my neck. Because the look he’s giving my dress makes me think he wants it on the ground.
“Violet’s about to leave,” Eli says, still smirking. “Thought you’d want to say goodbye.”
Landon’s eyes sweep up to meet mine, and the heat in them makes my stomach do that weird flippy thing. “Off to the concert?”
“Yeah,” I say, wincing when my voice comes as more of a squeak.
He nods slowly. “Good. That’ll be good.”
“Yeah,” I say again and then cringe. Why are words so hard all of a sudden?
“Your dress is…nice.” His eyes flick back over it, and my skin feels like it’s on fire.
I smooth down the fabric again. “Thanks. It’s new.”
“You, uh, wear it well.”
“Thanks.”
Eli snorts, looking between us. “You two are something else.”
Before either of us can tell Eli to get lost, a car horn honks outside. Wasting no time, I grab my keys off the counter, stuffing them in my tiny purse, and smile at the two of them. “Well, that’s my ride.”
“Have fun, but not too much,” says Eli, reaching out to ruffle my hair like a child.
