crowd of girls dying to pee broke into applause.
Kara pulled Jenny to the side as Tinsley strode out. “I saw her go in there—I thought maybe she was strangling you!” She wore a questioning look. “What were you guys doing?”
Jenny just smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
13
A WAVERLY OWL IS NICE TO HER ENEMIES—PARTICULARLY WHEN A CUTE BOY IS WATCHING .
Tinsley pushed through the intimate crowd, making her way back to the kitchen. The penthouse smelled rank with sour cigarette smoke and too much cologne and perfume in too small a space. Her throat was dry from her talk with Jenny, and so was her martini glass.
As if fate were tempting her to test out Jenny’s advice, the only person in the kitchen was the one she most—and least—wanted to see. Julian stood in front of the refrigerator, staring at the closed door. Tinsley froze in her tracks. He looked gorgeous in a green and gray striped cardigan over a white T-shirt, black Levi’s, and his faded black Chuck Taylors. Her stomach fluttered.
She tried to peer over his shoulder to see what had captured his attention, wondering if there was a funny family photo of Yvonne wearing something stupid, or an overly clever refrigerator magnet with a pithy saying.
“Produce,” a voice said, and it took a moment or two for Tinsley to realize it wasn’t Julian but the refrigerator. Julian opened and closed the fridge door. “Beer,” the same electronic voice said.
“Hey,” Tinsley said softly, not wanting to startle him.
Julian jumped anyway, turning to look at her. The surprise in his buttery brown eyes made her smile involuntarily. “Hey.” He ran his hand through his shaggy brown-blond hair, which he’d cut. It was no longer as sun-bleached, either, and it made him look older. In a good way. “What are you doing here?”
She searched his voice for any hint of annoyance or anger, but couldn’t discern any. “My parents are having their floors done,” she said by way of explanation, though she could tell the answer only confused him. So she launched into the whole saga, breathlessly relating how Jenny’s father was in a cult and how all the hotels were full and so they’d ended up at Yvonne’s.
Julian smiled. The tiny dimple to the left of his mouth was like an old friend to Tinsley. An old friend she wanted to lick. “It’s like that movie
After Hours
.”
“I don’t know that one.” She loved that Julian was a film buff like her, but she also hated it when she didn’t get a film reference. In fact, Tinsley felt the same way about Julian’s film knowledge as she did about him: She kind of hated it, because he was a freshman and shouldn’t know more than her, and she kind of loved it. “What are
you
doing here?” she asked, leaning against the granite countertop and trying not to look like she was trying to look sexy—which she was. “I mean, besides talking to a refrigerator.”
Julian kind of smiled. She wondered if he just felt awkward, or if he maybe felt kind of bad about the last thing he’d said to her. Not that it wasn’t true or that she didn’t deserve it—but she could see him feeling bad anyway, and a surge of hope dashed through her veins. “Seattle’s too far to go home for Thanks giving, and I’m a vegetarian anyway, so it’s kind of hard to look forward to a long flight just for some—”
“Tofurkey?” Tinsley suggested, grabbing a few cashews from the bowl of mixed nuts on the table. “I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.”
Julian stared straight at her, and Tinsley felt a chill run down her spine all the way to her toes. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Her heart sank, and she had a feeling he was about to leave.
“Milk,” the refrigerator said abruptly, causing them both to laugh.
“I think it’s on the fritz.” Julian jammed a thumb in the air and stepped away from the refrigerator in one smooth move. “I guess it’s some kind of high-tech
Kara pulled Jenny to the side as Tinsley strode out. “I saw her go in there—I thought maybe she was strangling you!” She wore a questioning look. “What were you guys doing?”
Jenny just smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
13
A WAVERLY OWL IS NICE TO HER ENEMIES—PARTICULARLY WHEN A CUTE BOY IS WATCHING .
Tinsley pushed through the intimate crowd, making her way back to the kitchen. The penthouse smelled rank with sour cigarette smoke and too much cologne and perfume in too small a space. Her throat was dry from her talk with Jenny, and so was her martini glass.
As if fate were tempting her to test out Jenny’s advice, the only person in the kitchen was the one she most—and least—wanted to see. Julian stood in front of the refrigerator, staring at the closed door. Tinsley froze in her tracks. He looked gorgeous in a green and gray striped cardigan over a white T-shirt, black Levi’s, and his faded black Chuck Taylors. Her stomach fluttered.
She tried to peer over his shoulder to see what had captured his attention, wondering if there was a funny family photo of Yvonne wearing something stupid, or an overly clever refrigerator magnet with a pithy saying.
“Produce,” a voice said, and it took a moment or two for Tinsley to realize it wasn’t Julian but the refrigerator. Julian opened and closed the fridge door. “Beer,” the same electronic voice said.
“Hey,” Tinsley said softly, not wanting to startle him.
Julian jumped anyway, turning to look at her. The surprise in his buttery brown eyes made her smile involuntarily. “Hey.” He ran his hand through his shaggy brown-blond hair, which he’d cut. It was no longer as sun-bleached, either, and it made him look older. In a good way. “What are you doing here?”
She searched his voice for any hint of annoyance or anger, but couldn’t discern any. “My parents are having their floors done,” she said by way of explanation, though she could tell the answer only confused him. So she launched into the whole saga, breathlessly relating how Jenny’s father was in a cult and how all the hotels were full and so they’d ended up at Yvonne’s.
Julian smiled. The tiny dimple to the left of his mouth was like an old friend to Tinsley. An old friend she wanted to lick. “It’s like that movie
After Hours
.”
“I don’t know that one.” She loved that Julian was a film buff like her, but she also hated it when she didn’t get a film reference. In fact, Tinsley felt the same way about Julian’s film knowledge as she did about him: She kind of hated it, because he was a freshman and shouldn’t know more than her, and she kind of loved it. “What are
you
doing here?” she asked, leaning against the granite countertop and trying not to look like she was trying to look sexy—which she was. “I mean, besides talking to a refrigerator.”
Julian kind of smiled. She wondered if he just felt awkward, or if he maybe felt kind of bad about the last thing he’d said to her. Not that it wasn’t true or that she didn’t deserve it—but she could see him feeling bad anyway, and a surge of hope dashed through her veins. “Seattle’s too far to go home for Thanks giving, and I’m a vegetarian anyway, so it’s kind of hard to look forward to a long flight just for some—”
“Tofurkey?” Tinsley suggested, grabbing a few cashews from the bowl of mixed nuts on the table. “I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.”
Julian stared straight at her, and Tinsley felt a chill run down her spine all the way to her toes. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Her heart sank, and she had a feeling he was about to leave.
“Milk,” the refrigerator said abruptly, causing them both to laugh.
“I think it’s on the fritz.” Julian jammed a thumb in the air and stepped away from the refrigerator in one smooth move. “I guess it’s some kind of high-tech
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