“I’d hate to think of you wasting your time in the holding cell they call detention. I can think of way better things for you to do.”
Keira couldn’t hide her shock fast enough.
Jeremy blushed. “Like your piano, I mean. It would be stupid for you to miss that for detention.”
Something about his sudden attention and concern made her want to tell him that she had a date after school thankyou-verymuch. If Susan hadn’t already. Which she probably had.
And anyway, it’s not a date. I’m paying a debt. That’s all.
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ve really gotta go,” she said again, trying to skirt Jeremy. He caught the strap of her bag as she passed, and her neck snapped around painfully as she jerked to a stop.
“Ow! Jeremy, what the—?!”
“Oh. Sorry. I wanted you to know that I’m going over to Tommy’s after school. I think Susan’s coming by after her flute lesson. You should come too. It would be fun.” He was looking at her like she was a carnival prize and he had a pocket full of quarters.
What was his deal?
“That’s sweet.” She peeled his fingers off the strap of her bag.
“Awesome! I’ll be there about three—”
She interrupted him. “It’s really nice of you to offer, but I have plans. The three of you have fun, okay?”
Before he could grab her again, Keira darted down the hall. She’d never been so relieved to get to math class. On top of everything else, it looked like she was going to spend the afternoon dodging awkward invitations from Jeremy.
One more reason to wish that the day would hurry up and end.
When it finally did, though, she kind of wished it hadn’t.
Chapter Six
KEIRA STOOD IN FRONT of the diner at exactly three thirty, with seven dollars and twenty-three cents in her pocket. The angle of the sun kept her from seeing who was inside. Even though she didn’t have the slightest idea what sort of car Walker might drive, it didn’t stop her from scanning the tiny parking lot, looking for something that fit him.
You’re stalling, she chided herself. Get in there and get it over with.
The inside of the diner was dim and it reeked of maple syrup and hot grease. Walker was stretched across one side of a booth near the back of the restaurant, looking oddly at home. In spite of the fact that it was March, he was wearing a T-shirt that showed off his arms. He raised a languid hand in her direction, but his eyes were bright.
Admit it, he’s gorgeous.
But that doesn’t make any difference, I still can’t date him, she argued with herself.
Keira marched the length of the restaurant and slid stiffly into the vinyl booth. A cup of tea was already waiting for her, steam curling off its surface. Walker had a mug of coffee at his elbow, pale with milk and a third empty.
“You came,” Walker observed, not bothering to hide the pleasure in his low voice. It rumbled through Keira like an earthquake, sending all of her resolve tumbling to the ground. Everything around them had gone into soft-focus, as though they were the only solid things in the restaurant.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” She’d meant the question to be tart, but all the sting had leaked out of her voice. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the table, trying to regain her balance.
“So you keep your word,” Walker said quietly. “I like that.” He slid a hand across the table and put his fingers on top of hers, stopping her virtual playing midchord. “What are you—oh, I get it.” He smiled. It was like the sun on water—a million diamond reflections. Blinding. Wonderful. “You’re playing piano.”
She nodded and slid her hands out from underneath his. Immediately, she wanted to put them back—to feel the touch of his fingertips again. “Nervous habit. Sorry,” she said. “It drives my mom crazy. And most of my teachers, too.”
“What were you playing?” He was watching her—listening to her—like she was the only person in the room.
“Uh, just an étude.” Clearing her throat, she reached for her mug, desperate for something to do with her hands. “This is for me?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Walker said. “But you might want to—”
She downed a huge gulp, then winced.
“Sorry.” He made a sympathetic face.
“I’m the one who didn’t put in any sugar,” she said, reaching for the canister.
Walker frowned. “You didn’t—it wasn’t too hot? It should be scalding.”
Keira looked down into the mug. “No. It’s bitter. Why?” The memory of Jeremy’s cigarette pressed against her skin crawled through her memory, and she slapped it away. It was just a coincidence. She’d gotten lucky, that’s all.
Walker reached out a fingertip to touch the side of her mug, lifting his eyes to study her. “You’re different,” he said slowly.
Keira wrinkled her nose, stirring a mountain of sugar into her tea. “You mean I’m weird.”
Walker laughed. “No. Well, yeah, a little I guess.”