I’m not sure how much Killian drank. One beer? Two? Not enough to make a fool of himself, anyway.
“You know, George Bernard Shaw once said, ‘Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.’ That guy had a zinger for every occasion.” Killian looks down at me. “You’ve heard of Shaw, right?”
I fold my arms. “Of course.” A typical debate trick is to start your argument off with a quote from someone famous (and preferably dead). George Bernard Shaw, an Irish playwright, was the king of one-liners, so his words of wisdom tend to pop up quite a bit, on everything from politics to the ethics of vegetarianism.
“Awesome. We should totally have a Shaw-Off.” Killian tips back the brim of his baseball cap. “You want to go get food or something? I’m starving.”
A Shaw-Off? I suppress a smile. “Mel’s my ride,” I say, tipping my head toward the office.
“I can drive you home.” Killian points to his beat-up Jeep. “Despite the dubious appearance, it’s really not a deathtrap, I swear.”
He’s being so nice, I almost say yes. But then I’d have to explain to Mel why I didn’t need a ride home, and just the thought of the knowing smile she would give me is exhausting. “Maybe another day,” I say. “I’m pretty tired.”
The disappointment is gone from his face almost before I can register that it was there at all. “All right. Toodles.” Killian bobs his head at me and saunters off, hands in his pockets. I try not to watch him walk away, but he’s so tall—I’m fascinated by the way his body moves, the amount of ground he covers with each step.
He spins around, as if he can feel my eyes on him, and raises a fist in the air as he walks backward. “ ‘What you are to do without me I cannot imagine!’ ”
I shake my head. “Don’t flatter yourself!” I turn away before he can respond, and sit down at a picnic table, pulling out my phone to check the time.
“Hey.” The college guy with the tattoo walks over. He’s sunburned and looks tired, but smiles shyly. “Are you off duty?” He holds out another Bud Light. “It’s not exactly cold, but you look like you could use a beer.”
I cross my arms and cock my head to the side. “You really want me to drink that. Are you a cop or something?”
He looks down at the can, confused, then laughs. “Shit. You’re underage.”
“Of course I’m underage.”
“Well, hey, Underage. I’m Carson.” He shoves the beer into his backpack and holds out his hand. I take it and am surprised by how cool his skin feels. “And I’m actually not twenty-one either, so I think you can be reasonably sure I’m not a cop.”
His name starts with a C. The thought floats unbidden through my brain. I push it away, raising my eyebrows and pointing at the large sign hanging on the front of the office: NO UNDERAGE DRINKING. “I don’t think Mr. Flaherty would be thrilled to hear that.”
Carson laughs. “But Mr. Flaherty doesn’t check anyone’s ID, does he?”
I shrug and then wave at Mel as she hurries out of the office, letting the screen door slam behind her.
“Freedom!” She jogs over and leans up against me, slipping an arm around my waist. “Making friends, Vee?”
“This is Carson,” I say, nodding at him and avoiding Mel’s eyes.
“Carson.” Mel nudges me and shakes Carson’s hand enthusiastically. I nudge her back, harder. “You were on a float earlier, right?”
“Yep.” He looks over at his friends, who have started to pack up their stuff. “Sorry, you are . . . Vee?”
“Veda,” I say. “And this is Mel.”
Carson grins. “Veda and Mel, what are you two up to this evening?”
“Um . . .” Honestly, I was planning to make Mel drive me straight home, take an ice-cold shower, and lie in bed for the next twelve or so hours.
“We’re not doing anything,” Mel chirps. I resist the urge to elbow her in the ribs.
“Well, I think some of us are going to head over to the Dune Days carnival,” Carson says. “Do you want to come?”
Mel’s eyes meet mine, and I give a quick shake of my head. I have not officially signed on to her Twenty-Six Kisses scheme. I have not even officially signed on to being over Mark. There is no reason for me to go out tonight with a boy I don’t know whose name happens (curse you, universe) to begin with C.
“Definitely,” Mel