Page 46 of Perfectly Us

“Fifty for a hummer,” I say, bending forward after he rolls down the window. “One fifty for the whole shebang.”

“Only one fifty?” Shiloh plays along. “I think you’re worth at least two hundred. Don’t sell yourself short.”

When I first met Shiloh, he would’ve blushed or got all awkward. I love that he’s more comfortable with me now.

I walk around and get into the passenger seat, placing my beach bag on the floorboard between my legs. Shiloh looks at my bag, which has a cartoon great white shark eating an ice cream cone on it, and presses his lips into a line before backing out of the driveway.

“It has towels and sunscreen,” I say. “Can’t ever be too prepared.”

“Smart.” He turns onto the main road. “Where am I going?”

“Take a left at the next stop sign,” I tell him, reaching into my bag and grabbing the Twizzlers I stashed inside. He looks amused as I bite the top off one. “Then head straight for a few miles on Old Mill Road.”

Shiloh nods and follows my directions.

“When I was little, I used to think it was Oatmeal Road,” I say, giving him a stick of candy before grabbing another for myself. “And I’d always get hungry when someone mentioned it.”

He laughs, and the sound fills my chest. “Whenaren’tyou hungry?”

I snarl my lip at him, then shove two Twizzlers into my mouth at once, which makes him laugh harder.

We’ve hung out since the night we kissed in the projection room, but we haven’t kissed again, even though I’ve caught him staring at my mouth a few times. In those moments, he always seems confused, like my lips are a puzzle he’s trying to decipher.

As he drives, I watch him. His blue shirt hugs his biceps, and my mouth goes dry. He’s not muscled, but his lean body is softly toned. He’s wearing swimming trunks, the longer kind that touches the knee. I’ve never seen his legs before. There’s very little hair, and he has some nice calves. All of a sudden, I feel like those dudes from old black-and-white movies who freak when seeing a lady’s ankle or something.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Only a little,” I say. “Nice legs.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or weirded out by that compliment. You’re a serial killer, after all. You could be planning to eat me.”

I grin.

That’s when I notice that his hair is a bit shorter than the last time I saw him, no longer falling into his eyes. It brushes the tops of his ears instead of hanging past them.

“I like your haircut.”

“Thanks,” Shiloh shyly responds. “It was only a trim.”

“I can see your eyes now.”

He doesn’t look at me, but a smile touches his lips.

With the windows rolled down, a breeze sweeps through the car as we move down the narrow country road. I stick my arm out, my fingers cutting through the air. Weird how the air feels so thick when moving at this speed, something you don’t notice when you’re standing still.

Wind is nothing but moving air with mass and velocity. Kinetic energy.

Clay taught me that.

Chapter Ten

Shiloh

“Turn left up here,” Alex says, bouncing a bit in his seat. “The swimming hole is right around the corner.”

Something’s different about him today. He’s still bubbly and hyper, but when our eyes meet, I see… something. His smile is only skin-deep. It reminds me of the time at the pizza place when he told me about his parents. He seemed so sad back then.

Is he sad now?