couldn’t tell for sure the color of his hair or of his eyes. The moon cast shadows across the plains of his face, revealing perfectly spaced eyes, high cheekbones, and a square jawline. In black and white, he was gorgeous. She could only imagine how beautiful he was in Technicolor.
“I’m fine. I just didn’t see you there.”
“No, it hasn’t,” he said.
Confused, Grace flipped her head around to see if someone else had crept up on her. No one stood behind her, to the side of her, or anywhere near him. Had he been speaking to her?
She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in question. “No, what?”
“No, hell hasn’t frozen over.”
Had she said that out loud? No, she thought. Still confused, she didn’t speak. She peered at him questioningly.
“When you got off the phone you asked if hell has frozen over.”
“Huh, I didn’t realize I said anything out loud.” Embarrassed, and so very thankful for the shroud of darkness, she blushed. No surprise there.
“No worries,” he said. “It happens to me all the time.”
“What? Talking to yourself?”
“No, strange men standing in the dark talking to me.” He delivered the line totally straightfaced, which made it hard for Grace to tell if he was joking or not. Or if he was just being a jerk.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Yes, I’m joking.” The corners of his mouth turned up a little, softening his face into a boyish smile. A smile she could easily get lost in.
The sound of distant applause brought her down from Lost In Boyish Smile Boulevard back to Orchard Street. Quentin must be worried by now, she mused. “I have to get back inside. My friends are probably wondering where I am.”
“Yeah, okay. It was nice chattin’ with ya.”
“It was nice talking to you too.”
Grace turned back in the direction of the coffee shop, and strode purposefully down the sidewalk toward the sounds of music and people. Toward safety.
“It’s Darius!” he yelled from behind her.
Grace halted and peeked at him from over her shoulder, pretending not to understand. “What? I know I wasn’t talking to myself out loud this time.”
“No, but I know you were wondering my name.” And there was that charming boyish smile again. Butterflies took flight in her stomach, making her skin heat in more places than just her face. She needed to walk away.
She increased her pace, walking quickly toward Latté Da’s, the day’s events tumbling inside her head. Her mother was acting weird, it was suddenly raining hot men all around her, she was saying things out loud she could swear she’d only thought, and had shamelessly flirted with three separate guys in less than twenty-four hours. Hell had definitely developed permafrost.
“I didn’t catch yours!” Darius shouted from the corner.
“You wouldn’t, because I didn’t give it,” she shouted back. With a new flirtatious bounce in her step, she sashayed the rest of the way back to the lighted storefront of the coffee shop.
Quentin was easy enough to spot with his broad shoulders and raven hair, once she got past the crowd. What she didn’t expect to see was the blond guy standing next to him.
Perfect!
Grace bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t led Zeke to believe she was meeting him back at the coffee shop for a date. She straightened her spine and cautiously made her way to where both men stood.
“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding uncomfortable even to her own ears.
Zeke smiled, revealing a dimple. “Hey.”
Tommy’s band started up with another very loud riff, relieving her from talking duty. Quentin leaned in to her ear. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she yelled. “Just my mom checkin’ up on me.”
He leaned in to say something else, but she couldn’t hear over the drummer’s strangled cat-screeching into the mic. That’s when the whole atmosphere morphed. Part of the crowd started to move and circle. The rest of the onlookers moved back. Emily moved quickly, grabbing Grace by the elbow, and pulled her to the front of the shop with Quentin right behind them.
Emily’s warning came out loud and rushed. “If you don’t want to get trampled, you’ll stay with me.”
“Why would I get trampled?” Grace asked. Her eyes followed the roiling crowd in front of the stage. Kids were being thrown every which way. Panic washed over her as she watched, certain that it was an all-out brawl. Yet everyone who was thrown out of the crowd immediately pushed themselves back into the fray. This wasn’t fighting, she suddenly realized. This was moshing. And moshing didn’t look fun to