“Is that a requirement?” she asks, pulling her hair back off her shoulder.
The motion shifts the air between them, and he catches a whiff of her shampoo. Lemons, maybe. He wishes he could get even closer and do a thorough analysis.
“I suppose not,” he admits. “But you kinda left me with a cliffhanger. Did the guy say anything? Is your sister still mad? Did the ponies shit everywhere?”
She laughs. “No, of course not. Yes she is, and yes they did.”
“Pfft. No details?”
She faces away from him, her gaze out the window. “I made everything weird at home. My sister won’t even look me in the eye. And the guy is extra polite to me now. Like a stranger. I was happier when he treated me like an amusing sidekick.”
Well, ouch. “The weirdness will pass eventually, right?”
“I guess,” she mutters.
“And there will be other guys. You probably have a few picked out already. Maybe go back to your practice guy and give him another turn at bat.”
“My practice guy?”
“Yeah. Some high school hookup. He’ll swallow his own tongue if you tell him you want a rebound. There’s got to be someone like that in your past.” Rickie tries to toss off this suggestion in a casual way. Like he’s not privately waving a hand in the air, volunteering as tribute.
Except there’s a very telling silence from the passenger seat. And his heart sinks. He’s put his foot in it again with this girl.
But really? She waited for her crush? Who does that?
He clears his throat. “You know, I’m happy to pull a Katniss, here. Any day of the week.”
She snorts.
“Dead serious. Maybe you’re having a moment in your life when you need to get out more.”
“That’s my whole life, apparently,” she mumbles.
“Ah. Well, I’m kind of a specialist at having fun. Maybe we could have fun together.”
She finally glances in Rickie’s direction, trying to see if he’s serious.
He is. “I’ve got an idea, okay? Hear me out. At the end of the semester we’ll have our first Open Weekend.”
“Open Weekend?”
“Yeah, the Academy is a closed campus most of the time. No visitors. But there are these weekends when the rules are suspended. All the cadets party off campus like savages. Here.” He picks up his phone from the cup holder and unlocks it. “Text yourself from this, so I’ll have your number. When our plans are set, I’ll invite you to a party. It’s some annual thing that happens at a boathouse. It’s supposed to be epic, although people exaggerate. I’m game to find out.”
She holds the phone without entering her number.
“Come to the party,” he says. “If only for a drink before I take you home. It doesn’t have to be, uh, a big deal.”
“A party,” she repeats. “With or without the pity sex?”
He snickers, and falls a little more in lust with her than he already was. Most women wouldn’t call out his bullshit quite so plainly. “There would be no pity involved, I can assure you.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Leave me your number. I hate email. And you can decide whether or not you’re coming after I send you the details.”
“Fine,” she says, possibly just to shut him up.
But she taps in her number nonetheless.
Satisfied, he turns on the radio. “Creep” starts playing through the speakers. It’s a fun singalong, but Daphne doesn’t join in. “You know this one?” he asks.
When he glances over at her, she’s mouthing the words. It’s such a dark song about not belonging. Everyone can relate, at some point or another.
And then—on the second verse—she starts singing. Holy shit, her voice has some power. But forget the skill—it’s the raw emotion she puts into it that floors him. Just wow.
Daphne Shipley could bring a guy to his knees.
If he’s lucky, he might just be that guy.
Ten
Daphne
I wake up the next morning to the sound of my mother’s voice in the hallway. “Daphne? I have to run to the feed store. Would you get breakfast on?”
Lifting my head off Rickie’s pillow, my first thought is: oh shit.
My second thought is: how do I end up in so many awkward situations? If I call out an answer, she’ll know I’m in the wrong room. And where is Rickie? I’m alone in this bed.
“Daphne?” she calls again. “Are you in there?”
It’s not the crime that gets you. It’s the coverup, right? When will I learn? I slide off the bed, march over to the door and yank it open. “I’ll make the breakfast.”