“I mean it, Anthony. We can’t do anything dangerous.”
There’s real fear in her eyes. I lean in, all joking gone. “You think I’d let you get hurt?”
She looks into my eyes. Her breath eases out. “No. I know you wouldn’t.” The flicker of a smile on her lips is so sweet, I already want to break Rule 5. She tucks her hair behind her ears. She’s wearing tiny silver stud earrings. I kissed those earrings in the spring. Those ears. That tight jaw. Those stiff shoulders.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Relax. There’s no way I’d let anything happen to you.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t relax. I can’t even believe I’m doing this.”
“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”
Her eyes flash at me, but the fear is gone, replaced by a spark of laughter. She gives me one of her prim looks that make me want to kiss her stupid. “I am never cute,” she says. “I’m imposing. Resolute.” She pauses. Blinks. “Or regal. I like being regal.”
“You don’t get to choose your own adjectives.”
“Of course I do.”
Smiling, I lean closer. “Your cheeks turn red when you’re frustrated.”
“They do not.”
“Makes me want to feel your skin. See if it’s warmer.”
The color deepens. “Anthony!” My name is a hiss as she looks around at the people near us.
“Speaking of color, you’re not wearing lipstick tonight.”
“We weren’t speaking about color.”
“Sure, we were.”
She purses her lips. “This is what happens with you. We take detours and end up having ridiculous conversations. Also an adjective I normally don’t do. Can you please focus?”
I can, but it’s not nearly as much fun as teasing her. “What about nicknames?” I ask. “Can I call you Kitten? Sugar?”
“Absolutely not. I’m Killer.”
“You also don’t get to pick your own love name.”
“We don’t have love names. This is a fling.”
“Is this another rule, Dumpling?”
A laugh bursts out of her. She claps a hand over her mouth as if she can stop the sound after the fact. A few people look up, but only for a second. She wrestles her smile back under control. “That is the worst fling name in history.”
“I’ll work on it.” I slide my pinky closer—snag hers. She has long, slender fingers with short nails and no polish. Understated and elegant like everything else about her. “Can we hold hands?”
“No.” She pulls her finger free. “We just agreed no touching.”
I trap it again. “What if we have to make a pinky promise?”
“I’ll make an exception when that happens.” She pushes my hands back to my side of the table. I get a small glare, but her shoulders are finally loose again. “Rule 3, the fling ends a week from Friday, but either one of us can stop it early.”
When I nod, she says, “Rule 4. No one can know. Not even your friends.”
“You’re not telling Josie?”
She pauses a second and then nods. “I won’t tell Josie, either. And no more meetings in the equipment shed. In fact, if you’re still planning to volunteer, we keep our distance.”
“I signed up. I’m not going to bail now.”
“Then we act like high school acquaintances. No more.”
“You’re that worried about your parents finding out?”
“Yes,” she says flatly.
I don’t mind her honesty. I get that I’m not the guy her parents want her to bring home. Maybe I might have been, once. Before Dad died. Before my grades dropped and I didn’t have the energy to lift them. Back when I thought you could have the future you wanted just by working for it. I run a thumb over the metal curves of my cuff. “Your mom and dad dreaming of an Ivy League douche for their brilliant daughter?” I sprawl back as much as I can in the skinny chair. “Grant seems like he could be a douche.”
She gasps. “There is nothing douchey about him.”
“His haircut. Like someone cut around a cereal bowl.”
“He had on a hat!”
I smile so she knows I’m teasing her. “So what’s the story with you two? You’re here with me, but on the other hand, he stayed pretty close to you today.”
“I’ve known him forever. We’re good friends.”
“You ever kiss him?”
She lowers her voice to a whisper. “You know you’re the first guy I ever kissed.”
I shift forward, my gaze lowering to her mouth. “The only guy you’ve ever kissed?”
Her throat works over a swallow as her eyes drop to my mouth. “So far.”
I hook a foot around her chair and drag her an inch closer. “Can we—”
“If you bring up Rule 5 one more time, I’m going to search the stacks for War & Peace, which is possibly the only book in this library as thick as your head, and I’m going to clunk you with it.”
I blink innocently. “I would never think of breaking the rules.”
“I’m going to clunk you for that.” She pushes her chair back, resettling it out of my foot’s reach. “Focus, please.”
“Right. Focus.” I shift my face into a serious expression, but inside I’m smiling more than I should be. “We keep this a secret from everyone. I’m good with that. I don’t want my mom to find out and think I’m dating for real.”
Her eyes spark with surprise. “She doesn’t want you to date?”
“You kidding? She’d love it. She thinks if I meet a girl, I won’t leave town.”
“Would you stay?” she asks. “For a girl?”
“Would you stay for a guy?”
“Of course not. But my plans are more set than yours.”
I roll my eyes. “You mean more important?”
“I’m just stating facts.” She holds up her fingers, ticking off each point. “I’m going to attend a college that accepts less than 10 percent of all applicants. I have a double major, a four-year program. A plan to attend graduate school after that. You have a road trip.”
“Don’t forget surf school.” I raise my eyebrows a little mockingly. “You know how important continuing education is to me.”