Lexi Cocker - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,40
the line.
I veer right. “Um…”
They stop and tilt their heads.
I turn mine toward the street where a shiny red Bronco waits on idle, and meet their eyes after they notice him, realizing all at once that I’m abstaining from our weekly after-Mass ritual. “Just this once!”
Sammy’s chestnut eyes narrow, smile tugging hard but held back. “Didn’t think to tell us earlier?”
Zoe is gazing between my sister and me as I shrug an unapologetic, “No.” She remains quiet, not sure what to say.
Sam, however, has no issues finding words. “All this morning when we were getting ready in the bathroom together, then driving here and talk, talk, talking away, arriving early and talking even more about I don’t even remember what — and you never thought to tell us you had a date afterward? Not just later in the evening, but right after church when we would surely notice you leaving?”
“It’s not a date. We’re just going to the gardens.”
“The Botanical Gardens?!”
Zoe’s eyebrows fly. But she says nothing.
“Yes, the gardens. You know what I mean when I say the gardens, Sam.”
“Not a date to a romantic place like that?”
“We’ve gone to the gardens hundreds of times! It’s not romantic.”
“When you go with family, no. When you go with a hot guy and don’t invite family, yes!”
“That’s nuts.”
Samantha smirks, “Did you invite us?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
Prodding me, she leans forward, hands flying to her hips. “Why not?”
“Because you guys wanted donuts!”
Straightening up like a flash she almost shouts, “Oh ho! Is that so?”
“Yes, it is,” I insist, reminding her, “This is your favorite thing, every week.”
“No, my Monday phone call with Logan is my favorite thing!”
“So you admit it!”
She blinks at me. “What? No…”
“You have a thing for Logan!”
“I do not!”
“But your favorite thing is his weekly call!”
“That’s because he’s traveling the world and it’s the only chance I get to hear what’s going on with him!”
“Why do you care? I know why! Because you like him!”
“No! Because he’s my best friend.”
I point at her. “I’m your best friend!”
She grabs my finger, “Stop changing the subject,” and starts twisting it until my knees bend, “You are going on a date and you won’t admit it.”
“OW!”
“Admit it!”
I drop my clutch bag to pull her fingers from mine. “There’s nothing to admit!”
She doubles the effort, using both hands. Sam’s face is close to mine. I’m bent over and nearing a collapse to the ground. Dang it! She’s taller than me! Stronger, apparently, too!
“I love the gardens, Lexi!”
Zoe whispers, “So do I.”
I cry out, “You’re not invited!”
“Why’s that, Lex?” Sam demands, “Huh? Huh??!!!”
“Because it’s a date! It’s a date, okay?! Are you happy?!”
She lets me go with a triumphant, “Very,” and casually heads to the donut line, fully ignoring the amused onlookers with her chin high.
As I massage the blood back into my finger, Zoe waves, “He’s super cute! Have fun!” following Sam.
Snatching the clutch from hot cement I grumble inwardly and turn toward Gage, freezing momentarily as I see him outside of his red Bronco now, leaned against its passenger door, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked.
Collecting my dignity, I stroll over, smoothing straightened hair and glancing to the sun like it’s just any other day. No big deal.
With questions in his eyes, he says, “You look beautiful.”
Hoping he leaves it at that, my gaze drops to the rose sundress and brown sandals I had, for some odd reason, trouble deciding on. “Thank you.” Locking eyes with him I motion to his ripped blue jeans and white t-shirt. “I’m a fan of casual Sundays.”
He holds my look in a meaningful way. “This is just casual.”
Okay.
Hold on.
Wait.
Why is he making that so clear? Is this like how it was with Brad all over again? Is Gage making sure I don’t get attached, too?
I don’t ever!
I’m as independent as they come! He’s got nothing to worry about.
Puh-leazzzzz.
And why should he worry?!
I’m amazing!
Whoever I end up with will be treated like a King! And if he can’t see…
He’s staring at me.
Waiting for an answer.
Ahem.
My neck lengthens, eyes steeling, voice tight. “That’s what I’ve been telling everyone.”
Gage holds the door open. “Good.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “Why is it casual?”
“Because we’re so different.”
I parrot his, “Good,” with the same satisfaction as I use his hand to lift me up. Adjusting the dress over my knees in the seat, I smile, “For a second there I thought…never mind.”
He shuts the door, top off as usual. Leaning an elbow on its open frame, Gage asks, “You want a donut?”
“What?” My eyebrows