Page 24 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“So you always dress like low-profile Wolverine? Interesting.” That devilish twinkle in her eye was quickly becoming one of my favorite things about her. The corner of herlip ticked upward as she said, “Not that it isn’t a good look for you.”

“Thank you. And wood nymph is a good look for you.”

She grinned as she sat in the empty wire-framed chair next to me. Her dress filled what little space was left between us. “I’m a party animal,” she deadpanned. “Get it?” She squirmed in the chair, no doubt trying to adjust the dress so she could breathe properly. “It was my roommate’s idea—genius, I know. Plus, I get to wear this old bridesmaid’s dress one more time, so I feel like I got my money’s worth.”

“That explains the antlers,” I said. “Very clever.”

“That hair is very clever,” she said, motioning toward my head.

“The hair is what makes the costume. Without it, I’m just a surly guy in a rad leather jacket.”

“And three-day-old beard scruff.”

“I grew it special.”

She pursed her lips again and fixed me with an ice-blue gaze that made my heart hammer in my chest. “I admire that level of commitment.”

“Some things are worth committing to one hundred percent,” I said.

“That must have taken a startling amount of aerosol.” She reached over to pat the top of my hair like it was a shy puppy, and I decided right then that I liked her more than anyone I’d met on campus.

“Egg whites,” I said.

“Cleverandeco-friendly.” Her eyes held mine for a moment that could have been two seconds or an eternity.

Then she pulled a small flask from somewhere in her cleavage and unscrewed the cap. After taking a quick sip, she offered it to me like a goddess passing me ambrosia.

The whiskey danced on my tongue and burned a trail straight down my chest. When I handed the flask back to her, her fingers brushed over mine and sent an electric current zipping along my skin. She was so close that I could see a faint spray of freckles over her cheeks—real ones that were under the bits of makeup that were painted on like the soft brown and white spots on a fawn.

“I’m Noah,” I said.

“Victoria,” she said, her eyes glittering. “Nice digs.”

“This is my uncle’s house. Lucky for us, he only wants enough rent to cover the mortgage.” It was a typical row house, two stories with three tiny bedrooms, big windows, a claw-foot tub, and not a single plumb wall or level floor. Charlestonians called thatcharacter.

“Nice of him,” she said.

I nodded. “Still takes four of us to pay it, and part of the deal is that we fix it up while we live here. We spent last summer painting every square inch of this place.”

“Sounds like your uncle might be coming out on the better end of that deal.”

“Oh, we’ve totally been had,” I quipped. “I’m pretty sure it’s haunted, but at least it’s close to campus.”

“And down the street from the best bakery in town.”

“That totally makes up for the haunting.”

Her eyes sparkled when she smiled, and I felt some invisible thread drawing me closer.

Downstairs, the music shifted to something with enough bass to rattle the floorboards. It was warmer than usual, and a rare breeze kept lifting her hair in a mesmerizing way.

“You never said why you were running,” I said, holding her gaze.

She took another quick drink before shoving the flask back into the bodice of her dress. “I slapped a dude downstairsdressed like James Bond, and he didn’t take it well. Figured it was time to split.”

“I’m sure he deserved it.”

Her brow arched. “Sure did.”

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