“Here goes nothin’.” I grabbed my canvas tote bag covered in patches, slinging it over my shoulder.
“You can’t take that bag,” Whitney groaned, trying to pull it from my shoulder. “It completely ruins the look.”
I grinned, hurrying out of my room before she could take it from me. I may be dressed up, but I was still Meg Galloway after all. Whitney chased me down the stairs, the two of us laughing the whole way. And then I saw him.
I came up short, Whitney almost running into my back.
Adam stood at the foot of the stairs talking to my dad, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pressed trousers, his blue button-up shirt open at the base of his throat. His dark hair was freshly trimmed, falling in a wave over his forehead. He grinned at something my dad said, and the sight of that smile—one I was achingly familiar with—made my insides turn to jelly.
Our friends Skylar Murphy and Kyle Webber stood with him decked to the nines. Skylar, while wearing a dress, kept true to her trademark goth style, pairing the frilly black number with torn fishnet stockings, fingerless gloves, and thick eyeliner. She looked like the perfect undead homecoming queen.
Kyle was dressed traditionally in slacks and a green shirt with a yellow striped tie. I noticed his brown hair was also recently cut and styled much like Adam’s, which wasn’t surprising. Kyle was always emulating Adam in all things. But unfortunately, Kyle was usually relegated to the second string in sports and with the girls. He would always be Adam’s less attractive friend, which wasn’t fair, Kyle was a good-looking guy. But Adam was in a completely different league. I knew it bothered him, though he would never say anything. He was loyal to Adam to a fault. Nothing would get in the way of their friendship.
“Hey, guys,” I said, my mouth dry and my heart pounding. I focused on Skyler and Kyle so that I could get myself under control.
Chill out, Meg. It’s just Adam! I scolded myself.
Just Adam.
If only.
Skylar lifted her hand in greeting, too cool to say anything.
“Hey, Meg,” Kyle greeted with a smile, his eyes instantly zeroing in over my shoulder. “Uh, hey Whit. H-how are you? No school?” He stuttered and stumbled over his words, not even trying to hide his obvious desire for my sister.
Whitney, always oblivious, rolled her eyes. “There’s no school on the weekend, Kyle.” She forever treated him like a pesky little brother, even if he was now a lot taller than her and had developed a defined muscular build. The poor guy hadn’t even been friend-zoned. He’d been looked over entirely. She turned to me, squeezing my arm. “Go get ’em, tiger,” she whispered.
“Thanks, Whit. For everything,” I told her before turning back to my friends.
“Later, guys. Have fun!” Whitney called out, heading back up the stairs. Kyle glumly watched her leave.
Skylar elbowed him in the side. “You’re drooling, Romeo.” Kyle glared at her but surreptitiously wiped his mouth.
I hopped down the final two steps, bumping Skylar with my hip. “You clean up nicely, Murphy.” Skylar made no outward show of being pleased by my compliment. She wasn’t one to emote much. It’s probably why we got along so well. I ran hot and cold to such an extreme that Adam had nicknamed me Hurricane Meg when I was a pre-teen. Skylar had always been a balance to my intensity.
“Not so bad yourself, Galloway,” she replied, finally allowing herself to smile—only the slightest.
“Sexy, mama,” Kyle grinned, picking me up and twirling me around. I laughed, smacking him on the shoulder so he would put me down.
“Shut up, Web,” I grumbled, loving the appreciation all the same.
I glanced up at Adam, who was still chatting with my dad and noticed his eyes on me. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest. Was I imagining that he looked at me with something that seemed a lot like desire?
Or was it wishful thinking? Because honestly, how would I even know what desire looked like? I had nothing to compare it to in my minimal experience with the opposite sex.
“There’s my girl,” Dad exclaimed, beaming at me proudly. I walked over and threw my arms around my dad’s neck, hugging him tightly. I never shied away from showing my parents affection. I didn’t subscribe to that silly teenage notion that you couldn’t still hug your mom and dad just because you had grown up.