He’s been planning something.
I knew he’d been planning something. The shopping, thecomfortable but fun,thewe have everything we need for the weekend,all of it arranged and waiting. He’s been sitting on it for days with that small, contained, almost-smile.
The trees thin and a sign comes into view.
I read it, then I read it again.
Sunvale.
My gaze snaps to him. “What are we doing here?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
My heart is doing something I don’t have a word for. “The festival is this weekend.”
“Is it?” he asks, acting innocent.
“You know it is.”
“Hmm. That’s a wild coincidence.”
“Griffin.” I turn in the seat to face him fully. “Griffin, look at me.”
“I’m driving, Pipes.”
He looks at me briefly. The almost-smile has become an actual smile. It’s smug, and I’ve decided it’s my favorite of all his faces.
“Are we going to the Sunvale Festival?”
A beat of silence follows.
“Griffin James Hayes.”
“Piper Margaret Callahan.”
“Answer me, Griff.”
The smile breaks properly. “We’re going.”
I think my heart actually stops for a second, then restarts. “We’regoing?”
“We’re going.”
“To the—you got—how did you—Those tickets have been sold out for forever.”
“I knew a guy who knew a guy. We started turning around a couple of days ago,” he says. “I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out.”
I make a sound that’s not a word. Several sounds that are not words. My whole body has come online in a way that makes sitting impossible, and I’m bouncing in the seat. He’s just watching the road with the stupid, beautiful, smug face of his.
I grab the front of his sleeve. “Griffin.”
“Still driving, Pipes.”
“We’re going to Sunvale.”
“We are.”
“I’ve wanted to go since I was—” I go silent as the realization dawns on me. “It was on my list.”
