While her best friend Cassidy snacks on brie and boys in France, Darcy Li-Quinn must face her last year of high school and the unpredictable wrath of her sister, Danica, alone. Darcy's plan for dealing with Danica and her heinous friends is simple-b...
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"You're my heart, Archer Viera."
"And you, Lilliana Grace Milano, are the love of my life. Marrying you would have been my best thing."
The looks flying between them are hot enough to melt glass. Or underwear. Or both. They are not 'commuting with others on buses' kinds of looks.
I haven't been at this long, and I've already tripped headfirst into a key occupational hazard of the whole medium caper. It's one thing to fetch the grieving girlfriend of the cute, dead guy so they can have their bittersweet reunion on the bus. It's a whole other matter to be stuck smack bang in the middle of that reunion. So far, I've had to tell Lily she's a bona fide MILF, declare half a dozen variations of Archer's undying love for her, and discuss her birth plan in graphic detail.
This should be a boyfriend/girlfriend experience, not a boyfriend/girlfriend/random-almost-stranger experience.
Yet here we are.
Thankfully, Hunter was wise enough to stay away because this is one thousand percent not an ex-boyfriend thing.
"I hate to interrupt all this gorgeousness, guys, but this is my stop." I try to hide my relief, but the speed with which I jump from my seat isn't subtle. "You coming, Lil?"
"I think I'll stay on the bus for a while." Lily's looking straight at Archer as she says this, and with such intensity it's hard to believe she can't see him. She's clutching the piece of art paper we found in Roberta's secret compartment: Jin's pencil sketch of a Stargazer lily that was to have been Archer's next tattoo. Next to his girlfriend, who should have been his fiancé, Archer's lit up like New Year's Eve fireworks, so animated he practically glows. It's beautiful, truly it is, but I'd like to disembark now.
As I approach the middle door of the bus, Mrs Rossi catches my eye and winks. "Say hello to that strapping lad of yours, Darcy, lass. What a tall drink of water that one is."
I grin despite myself. "Have a great day, Mrs R. I'll be sure to tell Hunter he's very... drinkable."
You shouldn't lie to old ladies, Li-Quinn.
Whatever. The boy knows he's hot. He doesn't need you or Mrs Rossi to confirm it for him.
Speak of the devil.
Hunter's leaning casually against the Hawthorn brick fence which encircles the school. He smiles as I approach. Not the cheeky, laser-bright grin he flashes when he's stirring up trouble, or the rueful twist of his lips triggered by grief for his brother. This smile is slow and deliberate and devastating. Forty-eight hours ago, I would have told you he was giving arrogant 'God of the School' vibes. He's not. He's just happy to see me. Which smacks of a whole other brand of potential devastation.
Stop it. He's your friend. 'Friends' is good. You could use a friend.
With white quartz pebbles crunching underfoot, my thirst-quenching friend and I amble down the drive towards the senior quad. Beneath a canopy of Jacarandas in full bloom, dappled light prances across leaves and hair and cheeks and stones. The morning smells like sunshine and newly cut grass.
