“To your left,” I said, directing him to the overhead camera recording him. “No, toyourleft… then up. Um… just a little more to the…”
“Grace!” he bellowed. “Just let me in! Jesus Christ. I don’t have all day!”
I was taken aback by his brashness but then reminded myself of his overall hotness and let it pass. Still, what was his hurry? The concert didn’t start for another three hours, and we had priority parking and backstage passes. But again, he looked nice in a pair of jeans, so who was I to complain?
I remotely opened the gate and watched through a slat in the blinds as his black Mercedes crawled up the driveway. The magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on me. I was going on a date with Hudson Cowell. Me. Grace McKallister. Holy crap.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped in surprise, hastily letting go of the blinds, which snapped back into place with a loud clap. I twirled around, coming face-to-face with the first date killer himself—Quinn.
“Nothing,” I responded, positioning my body in front of the giant picture window like a scarecrow with all of my digits pointed outward.
“Nothing?” Quinn repeated, squinting despite there being no bright light entering through the blinds. “What’s out there? Is someone out front?”
“No.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “I already told you no.”
“Right, but your aggressive body language tells me you lie.”
“There’s nothing to see here, Quinn. I suggest you walk away.”
“You suggest?” His eyes narrowed even further. “Why do I feel like you’re using the Force on me?”
I shrugged, my lying lower lip performing the tiniest little wobble.
Quinn moved toward the blinds and I jumped into action, boxing him out with my hip. We tussled.
“Fucking hell, Grace,” he blasted, trying to move between my flailing arms. “That better not be Hudson out there.”
I flushed. How did he know?
As if reading my mind, he replied, “I overheard you telling the Terminix guy out back baiting the rat traps that you had a date with Hudson, but I just thought it was you role-playing.”
Role-playing? What a dick. As if I couldn’t land a guy like Hudson outside of Fantasy Land. And, how dare Quinn eavesdrop on that special moment between me and that Terminix guy, whatever his name was? He’d been so happy for me.
“Keep your voice down, drama queen,” I whispered, my hands now on his chest, pushing him back. “None of this is your business.”
“I’m babysitting you, so yeah, it sort of is.”
“No, you’re not. We’re babysitting ourselves.”
“That’s not what Mom and Dad told me before they left. They clearly said I was in charge.”
“…of turning off the lights, removing any dead animals the cats drag in, and locking the door,” I replied, my voice ticking up a notch. “I’m in charge of like literally everything else. They even asked me to feed you because they know you would starve otherwise.”
“Well, at least I’m not the one lying to them and sneaking out on a date with a convicted felon.”
“It was a misdemeanor,” I scoffed. “And I’m not lying to Mom and Dad because guess what? They already approved it.”
“Did they?” Quinn replied, his brows shooting skyward. “And if I were to call them now and interrupt their anniversary weekend in Monterey, they’d corroborate your story, would they?”
I averted my gaze, knowing he had me cornered. Ihadactually asked my parents for approval, but only just… sort of. They knew I was going to Jake’s concert with a “friend,” they just didn’t know exactly which “good buddy” I was going with. And for good reason. See, while Hudson was the coolest thing on two legs at school, he didn’t have the best reputation in the community, after setting fire to the ag building. But it was all a giant misunderstanding; he’d said so himself. How was he to know hay was so highly flammable?
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” Quinn nodded knowingly. “I don’t like doing this, Grace, but I’m pulling rank. You are not going out with Hudson Cowell! I told you he was…”
I pushed Quinn out of my way before he could get out words that I didn’t want to hear. I knew Quinn’s opinion very well… because he never shut up about it. My brother was single-handedly trying to ruin my nonexistent dating life. Quinn would’ve preferred I stay in diapers the entirety of my existence rather than grow up and date. To him, any guy who got near me reeked of Ted Bundy and had a similar-colored Volkswagen Beetle idling out back. He really was worse than both our parents combined, and that was saying something given the sheer number of true crime documentaries my family had starred in.
“Think, Grace. Hudson’s only using you for the concert. For the backstage pass.”
