to say something to Ems, she was gone. My phone buzzed. I slid it out from my back pocket, grateful for something to do, and tapped for the message.
Eres muy bonita esta noche, Cassidy.
No way, I thought, but must have said out loud, because the person next to me stepped back and said, “What?” My mind blanked; it was just letters on the screen that I didn’t understand. I knew muy was “very . ” Bonita was . . . “pretty”? And my name. I should have been freaked, but it made me smile. Being called very pretty didn’t feel like a threat. I tapped a response.
RU here?
If whoever had been texting me responded with en español, por favor , I would have screamed.
Look up.
I slowly tilted my chin and looked up at the sky. What the hell was I supposed to be looking at? Was this an elaborate Emma prank?
“Not that up,” a male voice called.
I looked across the fire. Gavin stood on the other side.
Everything snapped to focus and sharpened.
Gavin was the one who had been texting me?!
“You?” I asked as he walked closer. Damn, he had dimples.
He raised his hands up. “Sí.”
“But . . . why?”
“Why not?” he asked, walking past me. His secretive smirk beckoned me to follow him. We sat side by side on the hood of Drew’s car, sipping our beer, making small talk about school and the night, until I decided to cut to the important stuff.
“How did you get my number?”
“Emma.”
“She didn’t—”
“I told her not to.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to talk to me in class?”
“Where’s the mystery in that? Besides, you’re too serious in class, pen at the ready, open notebook, conjugating verbs and shit.”
He thought I was serious? He noticed me in class?
“So, Ems knew you were texting me, and you knew I was the friend coming tonight—why did you disappear when we got here?” I didn’t know where this bold Cassidy was comingfrom, but I felt charged, wanting to get to the bottom of it, and he was too freaking cute close up.
“I got the feeling you weren’t interested. You looked out the window the whole way here.”
“You were talking about the crappy music.”
“It was pretty crappy, wasn’t it? I mean, Drew pays out the ass for premium satellite, you’d think—”
“What did the last text say?”
“You take Spanish, you should know.”
“I only look serious. You’re the Spanish scholar.”
“Only because it’s my second time taking it. Butler needs to change up her lessons,” he said.
I wasn’t letting it go; I wanted to hear him say it. He shifted to face me, the glow from the fire flickering across his face. He kept his eyes on mine. So serious.
“You look very pretty tonight, Cassidy.”
I blushed at the compliment, laughed, took a sip from my beer. Suddenly there was a loud mechanical woop sound. Then there were lights. Blue and red and blue and red.
“Shit,” Gavin said, grabbing my beer and tossing it with his toward a nearby garbage can. He took my hand. “Run.”
We weren’t the only ones scattering toward the woods. I wasn’t sure what kind of trouble I was running from, but visions of Nana in her housedress, or worse, Mom, who was out on a date that night, coming to pick me up at a police station, fueled my run. Leaves crunched as we darted throughthe trees. Peals of laughter, more crunching, shush es coming from every direction as kids from around the fire scattered. The woods were cooler, and my face was frozen in a grin, my breath coming out in gasps. I had no clue where we were headed, but I trusted Gavin. I had no choice.
I focused on his hand clasped around mine, pulling me forward. It felt right, comfortable, like I’d found something I’d been missing. My pulse pounded in my head and the last sip of beer threatened to rise on the back of my tongue. We finally reached a clearing, a large field with waist-high weeds surrounding a massive, imposing-looking building with chain-link fences around it. Gavin let go of my hand
Eres muy bonita esta noche, Cassidy.
No way, I thought, but must have said out loud, because the person next to me stepped back and said, “What?” My mind blanked; it was just letters on the screen that I didn’t understand. I knew muy was “very . ” Bonita was . . . “pretty”? And my name. I should have been freaked, but it made me smile. Being called very pretty didn’t feel like a threat. I tapped a response.
RU here?
If whoever had been texting me responded with en español, por favor , I would have screamed.
Look up.
I slowly tilted my chin and looked up at the sky. What the hell was I supposed to be looking at? Was this an elaborate Emma prank?
“Not that up,” a male voice called.
I looked across the fire. Gavin stood on the other side.
Everything snapped to focus and sharpened.
Gavin was the one who had been texting me?!
“You?” I asked as he walked closer. Damn, he had dimples.
He raised his hands up. “Sí.”
“But . . . why?”
“Why not?” he asked, walking past me. His secretive smirk beckoned me to follow him. We sat side by side on the hood of Drew’s car, sipping our beer, making small talk about school and the night, until I decided to cut to the important stuff.
“How did you get my number?”
“Emma.”
“She didn’t—”
“I told her not to.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to talk to me in class?”
“Where’s the mystery in that? Besides, you’re too serious in class, pen at the ready, open notebook, conjugating verbs and shit.”
He thought I was serious? He noticed me in class?
“So, Ems knew you were texting me, and you knew I was the friend coming tonight—why did you disappear when we got here?” I didn’t know where this bold Cassidy was comingfrom, but I felt charged, wanting to get to the bottom of it, and he was too freaking cute close up.
“I got the feeling you weren’t interested. You looked out the window the whole way here.”
“You were talking about the crappy music.”
“It was pretty crappy, wasn’t it? I mean, Drew pays out the ass for premium satellite, you’d think—”
“What did the last text say?”
“You take Spanish, you should know.”
“I only look serious. You’re the Spanish scholar.”
“Only because it’s my second time taking it. Butler needs to change up her lessons,” he said.
I wasn’t letting it go; I wanted to hear him say it. He shifted to face me, the glow from the fire flickering across his face. He kept his eyes on mine. So serious.
“You look very pretty tonight, Cassidy.”
I blushed at the compliment, laughed, took a sip from my beer. Suddenly there was a loud mechanical woop sound. Then there were lights. Blue and red and blue and red.
“Shit,” Gavin said, grabbing my beer and tossing it with his toward a nearby garbage can. He took my hand. “Run.”
We weren’t the only ones scattering toward the woods. I wasn’t sure what kind of trouble I was running from, but visions of Nana in her housedress, or worse, Mom, who was out on a date that night, coming to pick me up at a police station, fueled my run. Leaves crunched as we darted throughthe trees. Peals of laughter, more crunching, shush es coming from every direction as kids from around the fire scattered. The woods were cooler, and my face was frozen in a grin, my breath coming out in gasps. I had no clue where we were headed, but I trusted Gavin. I had no choice.
I focused on his hand clasped around mine, pulling me forward. It felt right, comfortable, like I’d found something I’d been missing. My pulse pounded in my head and the last sip of beer threatened to rise on the back of my tongue. We finally reached a clearing, a large field with waist-high weeds surrounding a massive, imposing-looking building with chain-link fences around it. Gavin let go of my hand