“What are you doing this summer?” I prompt, brushing my hair off my shoulders.
“My parents really want me to find some kind of internship,” he says, rolling his eyes. “My mom’s suddenly totally psycho about beefing up my college transcript.” A stray curl falls lightly over his forehead in a way that makes me want to reach out and sweep it back.
“I know the feeling,” I sigh. “My parents are pressuring me to step up my grades, too. The other day, my mom sat me down and gave me this really long talking-to about priorities.” Laurel didn’t get a lecture, naturally. Because she’s already perfect.
Garrett snickers. “Maybe we should set them up on a Mom-date or something. If they hit it off, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
I laugh. “Best idea ever. But no double dates with them or anything,” I add.
“God, no.” Garrett widens his eyes in mock-horror and I giggle again.
Then Garrett begins describing a Boys & Girls Clubs program he’s interested in.
I smile. “I wouldn’t think someone like you would be into helping little kids.”
Garrett looks abashed. “Why not? Because I’m too much of a jock?”
“Well, sort of,” I admit.
“I’m more than just a jock,” Garrett says softly. “I have a lot going on. Some good . . . some bad.”
I’m intrigued. “Do you want to talk about any of it?”
Garrett’s throat bobs. He looks away, staring hard at the wind chimes hanging from the porch. “I’m guessing you heard about Louisa.”
I study him for a long beat, waiting to see if he says anything else. “I heard a little bit. How is she now?” I say carefully. I remember Charlotte speaking about Louisa in hushed tones, saying how fragile and delicate she seemed.
“She’s . . .” Garrett closes his eyes, laces his fingers together. “She has her good days and her bad days. I feel like I’m the only one really looking out for her, you know? My dad’s remarried, and my mom has her own problems right now.”
I shut my eyes. No wonder Char said Garrett was a basket case. “That’s got to be so hard.”
“It is.” Garrett nods. Then a wobbly expression comes over his face. He takes his napkin, shakes it out, and smoothes it across his lap. “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
Garrett gives me a curious look. “You’re different than I thought you’d be, too, Sutton.”
“Different, how?”
He thinks for a moment, finger to mouth. “Softer, maybe. Easier.”
I give him a saucy look but then decide to take it as a compliment. It’s always nice to surprise people. And really, I don’t want everyone to think I’m a super-bitch.
I settle back into my seat, feeling like something between us has suddenly changed. Garrett really is more than just a jock. He’s sensitive. He cares. He sticks by his family. And he’s told me more about himself than Thayer has lately—which says a lot.
I can learn to like him, I think. And you know what? I don’t even think it will be hard.
The night is breezy and mild as we leave the restaurant. Garrett rolls down the windows of his SUV and opens the sunroof. I rest my arm against the edge of the car door and lean toward the window slightly, enjoying the tickle of the wind on my face. The road home from Bella Vista winds down through the mountains so that the starry sky seems to wrap itself around us as we descend. Sumac trees line the edge of the narrow roadway, curving softly overhead. The air in the car smells of Garrett’s lingering Burberry aftershave, with an edge of mint from the sugarless gum he’s chewing. The dashboard speakers are hooked up to his iPhone, which is currently playing Mumford & Sons. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the guitar.
Suddenly, he clears his throat, breaking the easy silence between us. “I had a good time tonight, Sutton,” he says, his voice low. I reach out and place a hand on his knee, liking the warm, solid feeling of his leg under my palm.
“Me, too,” I assure him softly. And suddenly, I mean it. Really mean it.
Garrett beams. “Oh. Okay. Great. I was wondering. . . . Well, I guess I heard some things . . . that you were seeing someone.” He frowns and fiddles with the remote for his iPhone, shuffling the music so a new song cues up. “Thayer, maybe?”
I flinch. That stupid fight by my locker. Did everyone see through it? Could they tell it was a lover’s quarrel? Or did Laurel start a rumor?
I set my jaw, thinking yet again of Mary’s giggle. She’s just a friend—hmph. “Nope,” I say breezily, giving Garrett’s khaki-clad knee a squeeze. “I’m definitely single.” Then I clear my throat. “And you?”
Garrett nods. “I’m single, too.”
I look down at my shoes. “I mentioned to Char that we were going out tonight.”