“Awkward,” Rhiannon whispers from my side. “He seems kind of pissed at you.” I glance up over Trina’s slim shoulders as the breeze whips at the braid I’ve woven like a crown. It’s working a few of Trina’s ringlet curls loose, too. “He wants something I can’t give him.” Her eyebrows rise. I roll my eyes. “Not like…that.” “I wouldn’t care if it was like that,” she replies under her breath. “He’s hot. He has that whole boy-next-door-who-can-still-kick-your-ass vibe going for him.” I fight a smile because she’s right. He so does.
