“Shit wagon, where the hell are you?” Nate yells down the hallway. I told him I was looking for a shirt that I thought I left in the dryer. I’ve been gone longer than it takes to look for a shirt.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Quit the damn fussy fuss,” I say, pushing my phone back into my pocket before our door comes into view.
“I found your stupid shirt. It was under your bed,” Nate says, throwing the gray McConnell T-shirt at my face.
“Of course it was,” I say, pulling the green shirt over my head and exchanging it, just to keep up my act. I check the watch and pause, re-clasping it to make sure it’s on tightly and running my finger along the sharp edges of the band. Kelly’s watch.
“Dude, what time is it?” Nate asks. Right, my watch…I was checking the time.
“We should go. You know Mom—if we’re not there when we say we’re going to be there, she calls for the flare guns,” I say.
“No kidding. And I don’t want them seeing this crap,” Nate says, throwing a pink Barbie pillow into the corner, on his bed.
“I don’t know…it’s all kinda growing on me,” I smirk. We went in town today—originally, to get ideas for ways to get the girls back for their painting stunt. But I’ve got to give them props; it was good, too good to top. So we decided to embrace the pink, go full sparkle and shit. Our room is now accented with Barbie blankets, ponies, fluffy pillows and rainbows. Mom will love that we blew the hundred bucks she sent in the card on teenage-girl shit at the Target. Well worth it, if you ask me.
Nate locks up the room and I push ahead. I can already see the girls walking toward us. Rowe is beautiful. She’s always wearing jeans or shorts and T-shirts, but she went full out for this, and her legs…damn. My brother is in trouble.
“Pick up your chin, bro. Your girl is smokin’,” I say, slapping him once on the back. He’s grinning like a fool.
At the elevator, I reach for Cass’s hand. As good as Rowe looks in her blue sundress, Cass is all I’m going to see for the rest of the night. She looks like sunshine—like real, actual sunshine—caught in a bottle for me, and me alone, to enjoy. She’s walking warmth; the gold of her hair is twisted in a braid on top of her head, small pieces tickling the nape of her neck. And god that skin, so golden, so soft…I can see tiny bumps rise on her flesh; I swear it’s because I’m staring at her like this.
When the elevator opens, I pull her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her tightly. “I had to see if you smelled as good as you look,” I say, my nose running along the inside of her neck. I let my lips suck in the bottom of her ear away from Rowe and Nate, and she takes in a sharp breath when I do. “You are lovely.”
“Lovely?” she giggles. “When did you drop into a Cary Grant movie?”
“The second you walked out of your door looking like sunshine,” I say, and she blushes.
“I like that. Sunshine,” she says, her lip finding its way in between her teeth as she tucks her head into the space near my shoulder and chin. My sunshine. Careful, Cass, or I’ll trap you in a bottle and keep you forever.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the stadium. That’s one of the best things about McConnell’s campus—everything is close. When you depend on your forearms to get you places on time, proximity is important.
Somehow, Cathy Preeter always finds a way to stand out. We’re more than two hundred yards away, but I can spot my parents’ tailgating setup within the sea of McConnell red and gold.
“Why do they do that?” Nate asks, shaking his head at the overboard display of school pride my parents have set up.
“You know Mom. Doing something halfway is like getting an F. She’s an A student, bro. Besides, don’t worry. I’m bringing a girl, that should pretty much take up all of her focus for the rest of the night—and blow her freakin’ mind,” I say as we get close enough for my parents to finally recognize our approach.
As I suspected, Mom’s eyes laser in on Cass. I put my hand on her back, and she turns to look at me, swallowing her nerves. “They are going to love you,” I reassure her, and she nods once with big eyes. I love that she’s not sure they will. I’ve never been surer about anything though.
“What is all this?” Nate asks, breaking the ice right away. He gestures to all of the McConnell things my parents have set up—chairs, a tent, cups, plates. What’s funny is we have the same stuff in our room, only it’s ponies, and Barbies, and princess crap. The thought makes me chuckle.