One Moment in Time by Lauren Barnholdt Page B

long gone, and so I haven’t had any dinner. My stomach grumbles quietly in anticipation. Luckily, the music is loud enough that Abram doesn’t hear.
    â€œAren’t you going to look at the menu?” I ask.
    â€œNah. I already know what I want—dip sampler, teriyaki wings, honey-glazed salmon.” He ticks them off on his fingers.
    â€œThat’s a lot of food.”
    He smiles. “Yeah, well, it’s been a long day.” He raises his eyebrows at me, like he’s thinking there’s a chance it couldbe a long night, too.
    But before I can figure out how to respond, a waitress appears at our table. Abram orders his plethora of food, and I go with the chicken quesadilla and the barbecue bacon cheeseburger.
    â€œImpressive,” Abram says, once the waitress is gone.
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œWell, it’s just that most girls try to pretend they don’t eat. So they order a salad. Or, if they do actually order some food, they’ll go with lobster, just because they’re in Florida.”
    â€œI don’t like lobster,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t come all the way to Florida for it. I’d go to Maine, which is way closer to my house.”
    Abram laughs. “I like a girl who knows her seafood,” he says. “And who doesn’t care what people think.” He inches his chair closer to mine.
    â€œDo the girls you date usually care about what people think?”
    â€œEnough not to order red meat.”
    I look him right in the eye. “Then I think you’ve been dating the wrong girls.”
    He cocks his head, like he’s thinking about it. “Fair enough,” he says. “So tell me about Quinn.”
    I frown. “Tell you about Quinn?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhy are you referring to me in the third person?”
    â€œBecause I read somewhere that people find it less threatening.”
    â€œYou think I find you threatening?”
    â€œDon’t you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIntimidating?”
    â€œNo.” Lie. Anyone as good-looking as Abram is going to be intimidating.
    â€œCharming?” He leans in close on that last one, like he’s really interested in the answer. My heart pounds in my chest.
    â€œNo.” I shake my head emphatically.
    â€œLiar.”
    â€œI’m not lying.”
    â€œBut you came out to dinner with me.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo that must mean you find me at least a little charming.”
    â€œNo. It just means that the club was boring.”
    â€œSo you find me interesting, then.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œLie.”
    â€œSeriously. If I found you interesting, do you think I would have ordered an appetizer and a cheeseburger? I would have ordered the side salad and the Florida lobster, which would have soured me on lobster forever, because obviously it wouldn’t be as good as the ones from Maine.”
    He laughs, and I can tell he likes the fact that I can hold my own with this verbal sparring that we’re doing. “Besides,” I say mock seriously. “You shouldn’t call a girl a liar. It’s not nice.”
    â€œI didn’t say you were a liar. I said you told a lie.”
    â€œSemantics.” Are we flirting? I think we’re definitely flirting. And the thing is, I’m pretty sure I’m good at it. Or at least, he thinks I am. The whole time we’ve been talking, he’s been inching his chair closer to mine. He reaches out now and puts his hand on my knee, and fire slides up my thigh and into my belly.
    And that’s when someone starts screaming my name from down the street.
    â€œQuinn!” The high-pitched shrieking is followed by the sound of heels clacking against the sidewalk. I turn to see Celia and Paige running toward us, their purses bouncing behind them. “Quinn!” Celia screeches. “Oh my goodness, Paige, there she