The Wrong Path - By Vivian Marie Aubin du Paris Page 0,38

inconvenience me by making me drive to the same place I was already going to go?” She looked up quickly, but his annoyance appeared to have faded, and a slightly teasing smile lifted the tone in his voice and relaxed his shoulders. “Get in the car, Belle.”

Relief washed over her and she flashed a grin back at him, sliding into the seat. He shut her door and climbed into the driver’s side.

“I finished Elmer Gantry,” she told him, as he started driving.

“Yeah? What’d you think?”

“I thought it was amazing and insightful.” She smiled over at him. “Thank you for loaning it to me.” He flashed back a charming grin that made her heart skip, surprising her. Nervous at the sudden beating in her heart, she went on quickly. “If you want to come in, I have it and your shirts all washed and cleaned for you.” She paused, then shook her head, even more flustered. “I mean, I have the shirts washed and cleaned. Not the book. The book’s fine.”

Will laughed and looked over at her. “You had me worried about you and books for a second there.”

She blushed and made a face at him, which just made him laugh more, and she couldn’t resist joining him. She relaxed back in the seat, feeling herself start to calm down. This was Will. He was a good looking guy, but he was her friend. That was all.

“Are you going to Homecoming?” she asked, looking over at him.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you kidding?” he asked back.

She frowned, caught off-guard by his tone. “No. Your brother is the quarterback, and it’s going to be his last game at our school. I thought maybe you’d want to go and support him.”

Will didn’t say anything for a moment. “You mean the homecoming game.”

“Yes.” Surprised, she looked over at him, then laughed as she caught on to his clarification. “Did you think I meant the dance? No. I couldn’t exactly picture you at a school dance, all dressed up in a tuxedo.”

He made a face at her. “I can wear a tuxedo,” he objected.

She laughed again, trying to picture Will in a tuxedo. The thought was so foreign she couldn’t even conjure the image in her mind. “I’m sure you’re fully capable of it. But actually wearing it… for an entire night… It just doesn’t seem you.”

“Not like you, right? Happy to be all dressed up in some fancy gown like a princess?”

She frowned and straightened at the insult. “I like dressing up,” she argued. “What’s wrong with wanting to look nice and get to feel like a princess once in a while?”

Will looked over at her. “Reality?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. “I think it’s fun,” she insisted. “We’ll never have chances like these again in the future. Why not enjoy them now while we can?”

“Why not get lobotomies while we can, too?” he countered, rolling his eyes.

“What do you object to about dances?” she asked sharply. “You get to dress up, look nice, go out to dinner with your friends, dance, have your picture taken, and have a great time.”

He snorted derisively. “You just named everything I hate about them.”

“You hate having a great time?” she returned, surprised at her anger.

He slammed on the brake at a red light and faced her. “Why don’t you just call it like it is?” he snapped. “It’s fun to dress up and pretend to be someone you’re not for a night.”

Her face flamed. “And you?” she demanded. “You just don’t want to show up in an uncomfortable tuxedo and risk being ridiculed by your classmates for coming to an event that doesn’t fit in with your image!”

There was silence as they glared at each other. Annabelle’s heart pounded furiously in her chest as she stared into his flashing dark eyes, refusing to look away. She didn’t think she’d ever really yelled at anyone like that before. She wasn’t one to attack when someone said something nasty to her. She usually just looked away and tried to say something nice. And yet she didn’t want to back down. She didn’t want to let him get away with accusing her of something without pointing out his own motives.

Behind them, a car honked its horn loudly, and Will spun in his seat, slamming on the gas. Flustered, she crossed her arms and glared out the window, her mind racing. Will would probably never have this kind of argument with Ebony. Ebony probably hated school dances