She knew she’d been lucky; at least she’d felt that way when he asked her out the first time. That he’d noticed her. She wasn’t a cheerleader or blond or ultra popular. And in the beginning, he’d been almost perfect. Almost. But once he’d gotten comfortable, things had changed.
She wiped her sweaty hands on her denim miniskirt, taking one last glance in the mirror. Her dark hair framed a pale face, making her brown eyes stand out, almost black, and she was trembling. God, he’d know as soon as he saw her that something was wrong.
“Faith?” Mom sounded vaguely worried. “You coming, sweetheart?”
“Be right down!” There, her voice sounded normal, right? To steel herself, she stared at her costume for the ballet scene in Oklahoma! Thinking how she had a lot in common with Laurey steadied her nerves. Laurey stole a wagon from Jud when he tried to paw her, knowing all he saw was a girl to conquer. Not someone to love, to cherish.
That’s what Faith wanted—if she was going to give everything to a guy, he better damn well cherish the heck out of her. He should make her breath hitch when he walked into a room. His smile should warm the air. Make her feel like she was the only being in the universe.
He shouldn’t spend entire dates retelling the story about how he caught the winning touchdown against Allen High junior year.
Taking a deep breath, she flung her bedroom door open and marched down the stairs. The first thing Cameron did was take a good, long look at her, up and down. Maybe she should’ve worn an overcoat instead of the miniskirt, leggings, and striped cardigan over a tank top. Not much skin showed, but he found every last bit of it.
A month ago, two, and that appreciative stare would’ve made her laugh. Tonight, though, it made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and not in a good way.
What would she give for a guy who could do that—make her shiver…and enjoy it?
Instead, she trudged over to Cameron. He looked like someone you’d find on a poster for one of those high school football dramas. A Friday Night Lights golden boy, from his dirty-blond hair to the navy-and-gold Suttonville High letter jacket he never took off—especially not on a March evening with temperatures in the upper sixties. She’d even seen him wear it in September, when it was a hundred and two degrees and the devil had left the barn door open to hell. Who wore a letter jacket year-round in North Texas? You barely needed a coat in January half the time.
“Um, Faith?” he asked, smiling a little. “You in there?”
She jerked out of her thoughts and forced a smile in return. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
“That’ll get you in trouble.”
Bojangles, her cat, rounded the door into the entry and hissed at Cameron. He hissed back.
Faith frowned. “Quit stirring him up.”
He laughed, cocky and sure. “That cat hates me.”
Well, yeah, Cameron ruffled Bojangles’s fur up the wrong way every time he petted him. Cats hated that. “He’s the alpha. You’re in his space.”
“Fine. I’ll leave the demon-cat alone.” He opened the front door for her. “Bye, Mrs. Gladwell!”
“Back by midnight!” she called from the kitchen.
Luckily Mom didn’t see the brief look of annoyance on his face. He led Faith down to his F-150—bright red—and said, “I swear, she treats you like you’re five. Who has a curfew anymore?”
She slipped into the passenger seat. “I have to be at the studio at nine tomorrow. It’s just her way of reminding me I need some sleep. Teaching a group of wiggly first graders how to plié takes patience, you know.”
He didn’t answer, and they drove in silence out to the Moores’ place. Violet’s house was on the lake, with a huge backyard and a fire pit. Her best friend’s parties were legendary, and they’d both worked so hard to make everything perfect, hanging paper lanterns, dragging out all the coolers, and setting up lawn chairs.
They turned down the oak-lined road near Lake Sutton Estates. The branches swayed in the twilight sky, and the air smelled like spring, green and new. Like an ancient hibernating nymph reborn in a sea of bluebonnets.
“I’d give five bucks to know what you’re thinking.” Cameron’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”
If she told him she was thinking about bluebonnets, fairies, and being reborn, he’d laugh. “That I love spring.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He reached out and rested his hand on her thigh. “Makes me horny.”
Faith pushed his hand off her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He drove the truck through the gate at the end of Violet’s driveway. Dozens of cars were already parked all over her front yard, except for a spot right by the gate—that one had a sign that read: MY BESTIE PARKS HERE. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.
Faith grinned. Violet hadn’t said she was saving them a spot. “That was nice of her, don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
His flat tone made Faith uneasy. “What’s going on?”
“I should ask the same thing.” He got out of the truck without waiting for her.