He glanced at me from underneath his dark lashes and let out a little grunt. I was starting to think grunting was August Watt’sMO.
“Let me guess.” He raised a finger. “Carrot cake muffins, preferably frosted.” He flicked up another finger. “Chocolate-zucchini bread.” A third finger came up. “Warm sourdough with salted butter.” Another finger. “Cinnamon rolls with a hefty layer of icing.” And then his pinkie leaped up. “Bacon—the thickly cut kind—with scrambledeggs.”
I blinked at him, impressed by his memory. He’d just listed all of my favorite breakfast items. Not that I was the pickiest person, but I really did have a thing for cinnamon and fatty food. Discussing food brought me back to the meal I’d shared with Liam in his kitchen when he’d asked what I liked eating. August already knew all that about me. For some reason, this flustered me. I got up and hobbled to the kitchen to pour myself a mug ofcoffee.
With my back to him, I said, “Coffee. Just coffee. I don’t really eat any of that stuff anymore.” I wasn’t sure why I was lying to August. Maybe it was because I didn’t want him to think he had me all figured out. Even though hedid.
I turned and leaned against the linoleum countertop. The edge bit into the sliver of skin on display between my crop top and my sleep shorts. Again, I thought about going to put on some more clothes, but I lived amongst wolves. They probably didn’t even notice bare skinanymore.
August frowned at me, and then he frowned down at the white ceramic mug clutched between my fingers. I blew on the steam, watched it disperse and melt into theair.
Feeling like a jerk, I said, “If you really do have time, I’d appreciate some help with studying for myexam.”
His gaze returned to my face. For a moment, I thought about confessing I’d lied, that he’d been right, that those were still all of my favorite things, but I couldn’t get the words out. It was disarming to have someone know me so intimately. I hadn’t eaten cinnamon rolls or carrot cake muffins in months, yet the mere mention of them made me salivate. It also brought back a whole slew of memories that included a table full of people—most of whom weren’t part of this worldanymore.
My mom had made the best cinnamonrolls.
And my father’s usual Sunday activity—besides waltzing his wife around the house to a Roberta Flack song—was grating several pounds of carrots for herbaking.
“Sure,” August finally said. “Do you have thebooklet?”
“No.” I blew on my coffee again. No steam rose this time. “Can you pull up the questions on yourphone?”
He nodded. As he quizzed me, his tone was so stiff that I knew I’d wounded him, yet I couldn’t confess my deception. I might’ve been loyal to a fault, but I was one hell of a stubbornliar.
25
Ididn’t endup hiking. But I did pass my driver’s permit without making so much as a single mistake, and then I celebrated at the lakeside picnic with all of my favorite people—when Isobel had pulled up in front of the DMV, Evelyn was in thecar.
I’d almost cried from how happy I was that Isobel had thought to invite Evelyn. Also, I was feeling pretty emotional from getting my permit on the first try. Now I only needed fifty hours of driving experience and a vision exam, and I’d be all set to cruise around Boulder—or around the country—on my own. I was drunk on the freedom that loomed at myfingertips.
Buoyed by the thoughts of all the places I would go, I walked to the lake’s edge, slid off my sandals, and waded into the crisp water that felt delicious against my blistered feet. I picked up a stone and skipped it on the glassy surface just as Isobel’s contagious laughter rang through the warm summerair.
This was a perfectday.
One of the most perfect days I’d had in a longtime.
“Not bad.” August stared at the ripples on the water as my rock sank to thebottom.
“You think you can do better,Watt?”
He answered me with a confident smile, the first one he’d given me since I’d shot him down earlier. With that smile, all was right in the worldagain.
His flat pebble leaped over the surface four times before plunging to its watery grave. “That was just a warm-upshot.”
I snickered. “Uh-huh.”
His freckles seemed to burn a little darker. He crouched and spent almost an entire minute scouring the rocky beach for just the right stone. I remembered making fun of him once for devoting half an afternoon searching a meadow for the most faultless red poppies to give Isobel one Mother’s Day. I’d ripped up the first stalks I could find and squashed them into a bouquet, which wilted on the way to my house. Mom had still complimented their beauty and displayed them in a vase on herdresser.
Slowly, August unfurled his long body, the smallest and slimmest rock nestled in his palm, and walked over to the water’s edge, crouched, all of the muscles in his body purling as he frisbeed the rock in one perfectsweep.
He pumped his fist in the air. “Take that, Dimples.Nine!”
I flung my gaze toward the water, which still undulated. I’d missed his exploit. For all I knew, the pebble had skipped twice before sinking, but I couldn’t admit that, because then he’d know I’d been ogling him instead of the rock, and he’d wonderwhy.
Iwonderedwhy.
Perhaps it was the violently hotsun.
