Page 78 of Girls Will Be Girls
“Hmm…” I suppress a grin. “I like your pretty face too much to break it.”
His eyes crinkle with his smile. “It is a pretty outstanding face.” He says cockily, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You know where it would look better, though?”
I roll my eyes and push him off me, refusing to let the heat pool in my stomach or a blush ruin my perfectly done-up face. I open the car door and get in.
“There’s my girl.” He grins before I slam the door behind me, convincing myself the frustration is the normal, not sexual kind.
He jogs in front of the car, still grinning. Once he’s buckled in, he turns to me.
“Ready, baby girl?”
“Ugh.” I scoff at his nickname, making him laugh one of my favorite laughs.
I ignore how Lou looks when he reverses out of the parking spot, his hand on my backrest. I also don’t pay attention to how the veins in his arms flex when he changes gears. I definitely don’t overthink the momentary comforting touch of his hand squeezing my bare thigh through the slit in my dress halfway through the drive. And I one hundred percent don’t get butterflies at the grin he gives me, when he notices which finger the ring is on.
We pull up to a different part of the lake, further south from Village Bay. Next to the parking lot, I can see a park surrounded by trees that backs up onto the water.
We get out of the car and I scan the scene; people stand around with cold drinks, kids run around laughing, a group of people are barbecuing with over-the-top aprons that say stuff like“I only smoke the good stuff!”and“Moo’s hungry?”. They must be the politicians.
“Do you want a drink or food first?” Lou asks, his arm around my shoulders.
“Whatever you want.”
His hand comes up to the nape of my neck, his fingers brush my scalp lightly. “Baby girl?” He says it like a warning.
“Fine.” I huff. “Can we get both?”
“Done and done.” He smiles.
His hand slips effortlessly down my arm to hold my hand again. He leads us through a few groups of people to the drink coolers. As he nods and slaps a few people on the shoulder in greeting, I give them all a quick passing“Hi”and a small wave.
“Dude!”
The sound draws his eyes away from mine as he looks up at someone our age waving him over. Lou smiles and lifts a finger, mouthing:“One minute.”
This picnic is a little fancier than a usual backyard shindig, with people hired to pop open the bottled drinks and hand themout of the ice. Lou takes three bottles and tips the bartender before passing one to me. He smirks the most adorable smile while tipping his bottle to cheers mine.
“Come on.” He holds the two bottles in his fingers and takes my free hand, pulling me with him toward the grills and punny apron-clad cooks.
“Who was that?” I ask about the person who yelled over.
“That’s Noah.” He says. “They work on the campaign trail.”
“Are they like, yourin?”
He grins down at me. “Myin?”
“Do they give you the insidescoop?” I tease.
He laughs. “They’re annoyingly very professional.” He says. “Which, considering I’ve carried them home after passing out on a beer pong table — twice — you’d think they’d help me out.”
“College buddy?” I ask as we line up for burgers.
“You’d think, right?” He chuckles. “Nah, we met a few years ago at another political event that we decided to ditch to go do karaoke instead.” He says. “The free drinks at these things are dangerous.”
Picturing Lou letting loose at karaoke is my new favorite visual. My new Roman Empire.
“Ihaveto know what your karaoke song is.”
