I pucker my lips as I think about his question. It kind of feels like a trick question. If I say no I’m inadvertently admitting I don’t think he’s hot which would be a lie but also do I want to tell on myself like that? I already feel silly enough before basicallyadmitting I think he’s hot, only for him to not reciprocate any of those same feelings. So I settle with a compromise, “You used to.”
Now it’s his turn for his lips to pucker. “But I don’t anymore?”
“Not as much because I’m more comfortable around you now.”
Now his eyebrows pull together. “You were uncomfortable around me when we first met?”
“No,” I laugh, “I’m screwing this all up. I’m just saying sometimes it’s hard for me to make friends my own age. I get nervous and ramble and I just don’t want to embarrass you around your friends. I feel like dinner was a fail and this might be even worse.”
“You could never embarrass me, Millie.” His tone is dead ass serious.
“You say that now, that is until my Vanna White impression comes out,” I sing song.
He chuckles, “I still crack up thinking about you and bingo.”
“Ah!See, my awkwardness knows no bounds.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I think you’re endearing and there was nothing embarrassing about you the other night. My friends love you," he reassures me as he pulls down a street with row after row of what looks like frat and sorority houses. Some are in better shape than others but all of them have that same feel.
I blush at his compliment, then look out the window as he parks his truck on the side of the street. There are cars everywhere, piled into the driveway and dotting both sides of the street for as far as I can see.
This must be what they would call a frat row. A term I’ve recently become acquainted with from some rather fun books I’ve picked up lately. I suddenly have an insatiable desire to read college hockey romances.
And I’ll never admit to the fact that Rowan Pierce has anything to do with my sudden infatuation. At least out loud.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I’m suddenly more nervous than ever. Maybe this is a bad idea.
He turns off the truck and turns to look at me. My belly swims when his eyes meet mine and he says, “One thousand percent positive. Are you ready?”
I pull in a deep breath and tell myself to be brave. This is a part of letting go of the old me and embracing the new life I’ve been given. I want to take chances, push myself outside of my comfort zone, but most of all I want to make as many memories as possible with the handsome but sometimes sad boy next to me.
Something tells me those are going to be some of my best memories. No matter how short or long Rowan Pierce is in my life. I don’t want to miss any of it.
“Ready.”
Chapter Eighteen
Rowan
It isn't until we've parked and are walking into the house that I realize that was the first time I drove with someone else in the car.Maybe I am finally starting to feel like my old self.I didn't even think about it. I was too focused on the fact that she agreed to go out with me. Then the conversation in the car distracted me even more.
I should be freaking ecstatic that I did something I haven't been able to do for months but all I can focus on is what she said in the car about myhot friends.My chest tightens unnaturally, and a shot of envy spreads through my limbs. I want her to be talking aboutme, not my friends and that thought alone is enough to have me swallowing my tongue.
For the first time tonight I feel like I’m in over my head. Playing a game I don’t know the rules to. Which is why as soonas we enter the house, already packed to the gills, music blaring through speakers set up in the living room, I head straight for the keg set up in the corner.
If I have any chance of removing the image of her cozied up next to Nash, or Beau or Aiden I need some liquid eraser. I reach for a red solo cup that are stacked haphazardly next to the keg and fill it to the brim. Then I grab another and do the same.
When I turn around to hand it to her I find her eyes darting around the room rapidly. Like she can’t focus on one thing for too long, there’s too much to take in. Too many already drunk college students dancing on the makeshift dance floor that was formed by pushing the couches to the back wall and are now dotted with kids making out. Or the riveting beer pong game that’s in full swing by the back doors.
“Wow. Is it always like this?” she asks, astonished.
“Like what?” I’m genuinely confused by her question.
“Like, like.” Her hands flutter in front of her with pure excitement before she says, “This.”
I chuckle because I still don’t quite understand what she’s asking but I try to look at the scene in front of us the way that she would. As someone who’s never experienced a college party, let alone drank out of a keg or played beer pong. With bright, untainted eyes. And I guess I can see what the appeal is.
Everyone is so damn happy, carefree. No one’s stressing over tests, or their parents and getting caught. There’s an exciting buzz in the air, and it’s contagious if you let it be.
