Page 54 of Spur of the Moment
“Happy birthday, Huckleberry,” Bailey said with a soft smile.
My eyes searched his green ones, confusion clearly written on my face. “Is that for me?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, Huckleberry. It’s for you.”
“A cake?”
“It is your birthday, isn’t it?” he asked, though he knew the answer. He always remembered my birthday, but he’d never baked me a cake before.
“Let me take that from you.” My mom squeezed in between us, gently grabbing the cake from Bailey. He let her, keeping his eyes on me the entire time.
“Come out on the porch with me?” he asked, something flashing across his face that reminded me of a cross between fear and longing.
“Uh, the party’s in here,” I stuttered, hooking a thumb over my shoulder.
He flashed his stupid beautiful smile at me. “I’m well aware, Lettie.”
I looked over my shoulder, then back at him. “Don’t you want to stay in here then?”
“We both know you hate parties,” he pointed out.
Damn him for knowing me so well.
“Right. Let me grab my coat?” Any excuse to put this off. I didn’t want to know what he had to say. Not when he kept looking at me like I wasn’t just his best friend’s sister right now.
“It’s not cold out,” he reminded me.
“Right,” I clipped. “Shall we?” I gestured to the front door behind him.
He nodded once, opening the door for me. I passed him, my shoulder touching his chest and sending electricity shooting to my fingertips.
The door closed behind me as I walked to the edge of the porch, leaning my elbows on the railing. I was usually fearless, so why was I standing here like Bailey was someone to beafraid of?
He came up beside me, copying my position against the railing. “You choose a school yet?”
I shook my head. “Can’t decide.”
He shrugged. “Go with your gut feeling.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Easier said than done.”
He faced me, standing up straight as he leaned one hand on the railing. “You don’t trust your gut?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust it. I just don’t want to make the wrong choice. It’s a lot of pressure,” I stated.
He nodded like he was contemplating that. “Then stay close to home.”
I looked up at him. “What?”
“If you’re not sure where to go, why risk moving so far and then regretting it?”
I straightened, still having to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Wow, you’re really helping.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. I never had to make a decision like that.”
“You never wanted to go to college?” I asked.
“No,” he said matter-of-factly. “I always knew I was right where I belonged.”
