Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,57

hand in public’ thing,” Connor says, and I think even Claire’s icy heart melts.

I hold out my hand. What the hell. If Jenna Martin and Mrs. Summers know Connor and I are dating, it won’t be long before all of Cecil knows—including Erica and Granddad.

Connor looks at me, his eyes hopeful. “Are you sure?”

I lean over and kiss him, and his grin afterward is its own reward.

But I dart another worried glance in Iz’s direction. “I can’t believe Erica let her come… No, I totally believe it. But it seems like a bad idea, right? She’s only fifteen, and she’s mad at the world. Anger and beer and our family’s history do not go well together.”

“Do you want to talk to her?” Connor asks.

I shake my head. “She wouldn’t listen.”

“Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. While I’m keeping an eye on Coop,” Claire says, with a fiendish smile. “You two have fun, okay?”

“Claire. Do not hook up with Coop, or Jenna will murder you in your sleep!”

Claire laughs. “No promises!”

“Josh is over there with Jay and Nia. You want to go say hi?” Connor asks.

“Sure. I’d love to meet more of your friends,” I say, gripping his hand a little tighter, hoping they’ll be nice. Hoping they’ll like me and not think it’s dumb that he’s dating some high school girl. Hoping Granddad hasn’t failed any of them. Connor guides us to a corner of the cove, where his roommate is sitting on a blanket with another guy and a girl.

“Connor! Ivy! Hey,” Josh says, scooting over to make room for us. He’s tall and skinny with floppy, dark hair and glasses and a Superman T-shirt—the kind of adorkable I expected Connor would be before we met.

“Ivy, this is Jayden, this is Nia, and you’ve already met Josh,” Connor says.

“Girl, that is an amazing dress,” Jayden says. “Twirl for me!”

I oblige and he whistles and Nia elbows him. She’s tall and pretty, with a gorgeous Afro. “Ignore Jay. He’s had one too many peach chardonnays.”

“You’re drinking peach chardonnay? Seriously?” Josh shakes his head.

“Like your hipster IPAs are better?” Jay frowns as we sit down. “Oh shit, I bet Ivy’s going to be good at this game. I had your grandfather’s Southern Women Writers class last semester and he was hard-core. The man gave me a B!”

“He gives everybody Bs. Except for Connor,” I point out, and they all laugh and then Josh explains the rules. They’re playing some kind of drinking game that involves a deck of cards with picture prompts on them. The goal is to tell a story based on the picture cards in your hand. Every time you falter, you have to draw another card and drink. I’m nervous that my story will be stupid, but then Josh starts telling a tale of a wizard trapped in a castle with a poisoned apple, which makes absolutely no sense after only three cards, and my competitive urge kicks in. This is going to be fun.

• • •

I don’t win the first game (that would be Connor), but I don’t lose either (that would be Josh). My worries about being too awkward or too, I don’t know, high school are unfounded. Everyone in the group is totally nice and welcoming. Apparently, last year they all lived in the creative arts dorm as freshmen. Nia’s a dance major. Josh and Jay are both potential English majors.

Jay is telling a story about two hot African princes that is only loosely inspired by his card and lamenting how finding another cute gay black man in this town is like finding a needle in a haystack. Connor is holding my hand, tracing circles on my palm. The air smells like roasting hot dogs and burnt marshmallows, and the breeze blowing in off the Bay sends clouds scudding over the half-moon. Taylor Swift plays on someone’s speakers, and a few feet away, the waves sing a lullaby to the pebbly shore. I think I could stay like this all night. Maybe forever.

Then someone taps my shoulder.

I look up, startled. Alex is towering over me. “We need to talk.”

Chapter

Fifteen

Now? Alex wants to talk now?

“It’s about your sister,” he clarifies, and I search the shadows behind him for Iz. She’s huddled a few yards away with Claire. Leaning against Claire half-mast, like her head is too heavy to hold up.

I jump to my feet. “Did you get Isobel drunk?”

“I am not responsible.” Alex holds his hands out. “She poured her own drinks. She said she