My laugh made David glance away from the road again to study me. He didn’t linger, already having learned his lesson from before. But he took in enough of me to make it feel like I’d given him something when he looked away.
“Verbal punches are your specialty.” I unbuttoned my blazer. It was high time I settled into the ride and stopped sweating.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But there’s no denying you can keep up.”
I mock-gasp. “Is that admiration in David Evans’ tone? Admiration for little ol’ me?”
He smiled. “Don’t get your hopes up, Daredevil. It takes a lot more than a little back and forth for me to admire you.”
“You keep telling yourself that. But it doesn’t take a genius to see I’ve already done more than enough to garner your admiration.”
“That so?”
“Yeah, otherwise you’d have stopped these dares a long time ago. You’re entangled with me till graduation,” I said. Or longer? Could we keep this up when we inevitably went our separate ways? This was the first time I had considered it, and an odd tightening in my chest made me frown.
“Entangled,” he repeated as if he were tasting the word for the first time. “Now that’s a good one. Closer to what we are to each other. But not enough. Not just right. But we’re getting there.”
When we finally arrived atthe beach, Emmy and the others were already there. David parked beside them, and we climbed out of the car, stretching our arms and complaining about our numb legs.
“How was the drive?” Emmy asked when I joined her side. She’d done the big chop and dyed it red the first week of the semester. The new look was courtesy of a brief post-breakup identity crisis. The only makeup she wore was a hint of blue eyeliner. Emmy was a short, curvy, doe-eyed woman who never shied away from saying what was on her mind and only occasionally regretted it afterward.
“That good?” Emmy teased when I blew out a breath. She held out a paper bag of dried mangoes. I grabbed a handful.
“We almost got into an accident,” I said loud enough for David to hear.
He stood at the trunk of his car, helping the girls unload. My salty declaration made him scoff, and he said, “We got here in one piece, didn’t we?”
“Nice to see we’re all in good spirits.” Emmy snapped a few quick photos of our pissed expressions. Then, in a voice low enough for only me to hear, she said, “So, I scoped out a few locations last weekend. I think I have the perfect spot for headshots, and six options for group photos. Maybe we could take some candid ones on the walk over, too? The sky’s perfect today, so natural lighting’s going to be incredible.”
“Whatever you prefer is what we do.” The best thing about being on BWD was being a part of this team. My girls–though chaotic–rose to the occasion. I’d trust them with my over-priced planner any day.
Emmy fidgeted with her camera strap. She only ever chewed on her lip when the camera hung around her neck.Otherwise, she was all full-steam ahead, listening to the sound of no other drum but her own.
“Okay…” She pressed her lips together as she scanned the shoreline. Instinct told me to jump in. Map out a clear route for the day because heaven knew I’d already done so a million times the night before. But all my ideas were deep in the Plan C territory. If three semesters of leadership taught me anything, it was when to back off. The act didn’t come without a fight. In fact, my lips quivered with unspoken orders.
Emmy was more than capable of leading this shoot. Her past relationship had stolen her self-belief. What good was BWD for, if not to help her take it back?
“I don’t know,” she whispered with a look asking for guidance.
I shook my head and smiled. “You do know, you just told me, and it sounded perfect.”
Emmy’s shoulders relaxed, but the tension in her brow lingered.
The girls were already complaining about their heels and polyester skirts. With a loud clap, I gained everyone’s attention and directed them toward the boardwalk.
“We’re going to make this as smooth as possible while still having a little fun,” I promised with a smile. I always loved photo day at school. My mom used each one as an excuse to dress my sisters, my brother, and me up in our Sunday best. Even though the skirts constantly itched and my braids were too tight, dressing up never failed to make me feel like I was home.
Emmy led the trek down the wooden staircase to the beach. Once on the sand, most of us removed our shoes. I looked around for David and found him talking to Indie. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but the smoothness of his brow was atypical. I ignored the clench in my chest and pushed aside the ‘how dare he have fun doing a task that’s supposed to be akin to torture’ feeling.
I said I wanted him to be an “honorable member.” Talking to the girls was a good thing. Not frowning was a good thing. And hey, maybe he’d learn some manners from Indie… or some patience from Covee… or some chill from Haven. If anyone could smooth out that asshole’s hard edges, it’d be those three.
I hurried to catch up with Emmy, who was already snapping photos of us walking through the sand.
“All good?” she asked in a distracted voice as she got a shot of Haven splashing Covee with water. She took shots quickly, as if she were afraid even blinking would make her miss the perfect moment.
I bit my tongue, forcing myself to swallow a command for the girls to stay out of the water so they remained dry. Toeing the line between bossy and too bossy was a conscious effort.
“All great.” I nodded. “I actually wanted to check in with you about our panel. Sorry to pile all this stuff on you, but I’m trying to narrow down dates and conference room schedules.”
