Vincent did the same. Just like on the way to the restaurant, his thigh pressed up against mine. Unlike on the way to the restaurant, the space between us was filled with my memory of that bite of cheesecake, and how Vincent swiping his thumb across my chin had felt less like a hygiene move and more like a proposition. Or, the way he looked at me now, a promise.
He leaned his head back on the headrest, then turned it to me. “I had fun tonight.” His voice was quieter than normal, more gravelly. There was something about the way he said the words, a little breathlessly, like it was a secret between us, that made me look at him.
His gaze was so focused on me. Again, I laughed and looked forward to break the tension. “Night’s not over yet. We still have some dancing to do, and some geeks to make jealous.”
That smile came back. “Exactly which geeks are you talking about?”
I laughed. “Um, all of them? Our shirts are awesome. ‘Do not drink and derive?’ Come on. Who’s not going to be jealous?” I swallowed a lump in my throat that had risen there independent of any specific thought.
A seasoned Mathlete would have cracked up, but Vincent just sort of shook his head and gave a vague smile. He must have gotten the joke, but I guess it just wasn’t hilarious unless you lived and breathed math.
Now that we’d had dinner together, instead of thinking he looked slightly too formal and way ridiculous, I appreciated how the collared shirt Vincent was wearing framed his face. His absolutely stunning face.
Like he knew what I was thinking, he looked forward and smiled.
We were both quiet for the next few minutes, until the limo slowed. Vincent leaned forward and tapped the glass in front of us. “Just wait for us out here.” The super faint outline of the limo driver’s head nodded.
Vincent held out his hand, palm up and fingers relaxed, to me. “Ready for this?”
I smiled. “That depends,” I said. “How good of a dancer are you?”
Ω
Vincent dropped my hand as soon as he helped me climb out of the limo, and I glanced around at all the other kids getting out of their cars—their everyday cars. Granted, they drove makes that my family couldn’t pay for if they sold the whole farmhouse, but they were still the same cars they drove every single day to school.
“Hey, Ashley!” a high, perky voice called out across the parking lot, echoing against the shining marble walls of Mansfield Prep’s columned walkway, and bouncing back to my ears like a freaking banshee.
Sofia bounced toward me across the parking lot, her stretching-to-eternity, thin-yet-perfectly-curvy legs encased in skinny jeans, wearing a pink and green paisley shirt and the craziest stilettos I’d ever seen. She walked on them as confidently as a runway model would. And, behind her, she dragged Brendan. He looked like an adorably confused puppy. I hated that look and loved it at the same time.
“Hey, Ash,” he said, smiling in that same confused way.
“How’d it work out?” Sofia asked, looking at Vincent.
“Perfectly. If that was dinner every night, you wouldn’t hear a complaint out of me.” Vincent stepped close and nudged his shoulder into mine, smiling down at me.
Brendan looked at me curiously. “Didn’t you bring a picnic?”
“Well, uh…” I cleared my throat. “It was picnic food. But it was…”
“Gruyère mac and cheese, man. It was epic. At Seviche, that restaurant downtown. Simple food, incredible view. You should think about it. I’m sure your dad basically designed the place, right?”
“Uh...maybe. Yeah. I don’t know.” Brendan looked down at where his hand connected with Sofia’s, like he just realized he’d been holding it. He drew it away from hers and used it to run back through his hair, which was perpetually flopping in his eyes. Half the time I thought he kept it that way just so he could push it back like that when he needed something to do with his hands.
The thump of a bass
He leaned his head back on the headrest, then turned it to me. “I had fun tonight.” His voice was quieter than normal, more gravelly. There was something about the way he said the words, a little breathlessly, like it was a secret between us, that made me look at him.
His gaze was so focused on me. Again, I laughed and looked forward to break the tension. “Night’s not over yet. We still have some dancing to do, and some geeks to make jealous.”
That smile came back. “Exactly which geeks are you talking about?”
I laughed. “Um, all of them? Our shirts are awesome. ‘Do not drink and derive?’ Come on. Who’s not going to be jealous?” I swallowed a lump in my throat that had risen there independent of any specific thought.
A seasoned Mathlete would have cracked up, but Vincent just sort of shook his head and gave a vague smile. He must have gotten the joke, but I guess it just wasn’t hilarious unless you lived and breathed math.
Now that we’d had dinner together, instead of thinking he looked slightly too formal and way ridiculous, I appreciated how the collared shirt Vincent was wearing framed his face. His absolutely stunning face.
Like he knew what I was thinking, he looked forward and smiled.
We were both quiet for the next few minutes, until the limo slowed. Vincent leaned forward and tapped the glass in front of us. “Just wait for us out here.” The super faint outline of the limo driver’s head nodded.
Vincent held out his hand, palm up and fingers relaxed, to me. “Ready for this?”
I smiled. “That depends,” I said. “How good of a dancer are you?”
Ω
Vincent dropped my hand as soon as he helped me climb out of the limo, and I glanced around at all the other kids getting out of their cars—their everyday cars. Granted, they drove makes that my family couldn’t pay for if they sold the whole farmhouse, but they were still the same cars they drove every single day to school.
“Hey, Ashley!” a high, perky voice called out across the parking lot, echoing against the shining marble walls of Mansfield Prep’s columned walkway, and bouncing back to my ears like a freaking banshee.
Sofia bounced toward me across the parking lot, her stretching-to-eternity, thin-yet-perfectly-curvy legs encased in skinny jeans, wearing a pink and green paisley shirt and the craziest stilettos I’d ever seen. She walked on them as confidently as a runway model would. And, behind her, she dragged Brendan. He looked like an adorably confused puppy. I hated that look and loved it at the same time.
“Hey, Ash,” he said, smiling in that same confused way.
“How’d it work out?” Sofia asked, looking at Vincent.
“Perfectly. If that was dinner every night, you wouldn’t hear a complaint out of me.” Vincent stepped close and nudged his shoulder into mine, smiling down at me.
Brendan looked at me curiously. “Didn’t you bring a picnic?”
“Well, uh…” I cleared my throat. “It was picnic food. But it was…”
“Gruyère mac and cheese, man. It was epic. At Seviche, that restaurant downtown. Simple food, incredible view. You should think about it. I’m sure your dad basically designed the place, right?”
“Uh...maybe. Yeah. I don’t know.” Brendan looked down at where his hand connected with Sofia’s, like he just realized he’d been holding it. He drew it away from hers and used it to run back through his hair, which was perpetually flopping in his eyes. Half the time I thought he kept it that way just so he could push it back like that when he needed something to do with his hands.
The thump of a bass
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