My Sweetest Escape (My Favorite Mistake #2)(12)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Do the honors, Red,” Dusty said, bowing and holding the hat out as if he was bestowing a great gift.

They all waited with anticipation like I was choosing something that would affect the rest of their lives. I grasped a piece of paper, unfolded it and read it out.

“Sea Dog it is.” Dusty winked at me. Of course I’d picked his choice. Everyone else agreed that it was a nice place and started to get their stuff together.

“Need a ride, Red?” He’d sidled up behind me again as I’d gotten my coat.

“I swear, one of these times you’re going to get a faceful of my fist if you sneak up on me, Dustin.”

“You coming, Jos?” Renee said as Paul helped her on with her coat and everyone else piled into their cars. I decided to seize my opportunity to get out from under her radar, even if I’d have to spend a few minutes with Dusty.

“I’m going to ride with Dusty.” He looked surprised for a second but then smiled. Did he just…smile all the time? Was it a reflex?

Renee looked like she was going to protest and then Paul said something in her ear. They had a quick argument and Renee threw up her hands.

“Fine. See you there.” I didn’t know what she was making such a big deal about. The restaurant was just down the road.

“Ladies first,” Dusty said, pointing toward a black VW Golf that had more than a few dings. “By the way, I wrote Sea Dog on all of them,” he whispered.

Of course he did.

“Wow, sneaky,” I said, pretending to sound impressed. He shut the door for me, and I resisted the urge to call him out on it. Matt, my ex, was big on door opening, and I’d always liked it. Yeah, I knew that it was against feminism or whatever, but it was still nice. Matt was big on things like that. Flowers on holidays and pulling chairs out and wearing ties.

His ambition was to be president, and he always said if you wanted to be president the first step was looking like one. Granted, I’d also dressed very differently then. Yes, I’d had skirts and blazers and pumps and even brooches for my neck scarves. I’d boxed all of it up and left it at Mom’s house when I’d moved into my dorm room this year. No need for any of that anymore. I’d quit all the clubs I’d been in, even Student Council, much to the dismay of nearly everyone there. Mostly because I kept the minutes and no one else wanted to do it.

“So what’s your story, Joscelyn Archer?” Dusty said as he pulled out behind Taylor’s Charger. “Have you always had that chip on your shoulder, or is it new?”

Why the hell did he care?

“What’s your story, Dustin Sharp? Renee’s never mentioned you before.” Instead of turning on the radio, he made his own music by tapping on the steering wheel and making snare drum sounds with his mouth. I was beginning to think he had ADHD. It would explain a lot.

“I bet yours is more interesting than mine,” he said, turning to look at me. I stared out the window, pretending to be fascinated with the houses that passed by.

“Okay, fine. You win,” he said when I didn’t answer. “Let’s just say I wasn’t always this good-looking and talented. I, uh, got myself into a lot of trouble when I was younger, if you can believe that.” Could I? You bet.

“And I screwed up a lot and then something happened to me to…yeah, this part sounds lame, but something happened to put things in perspective, you know? And I stopped screwing around, and I started actually giving a shit about what I wanted to do with my life.”

“And how did you become buddies with Hunter?” That was what I was most curious about.

“I met Hunter in one of my classes, and, for lack of a better, more masculine term, we formed a bromance. We see each other all the time now, since he changed his major. So, yeah. That’s my rambling and completely weird story.”

It wasn’t what I’d expected, but before I could answer he was pulling into the parking lot.

“So, on the way back it’s your turn, Red.”

This time I opened the door myself before he could get around the car.

Chapter 7

Dinner was…interesting. Everyone—except me and Dusty—greased their wheels with the wide selection of beer on tap. Even though Taylor wasn’t of age, Hunter just ordered two glasses at a time and handed her one when the waiter wasn’t looking. I didn’t even bother to try that, because Renee’s eyes were on me the entire time. She kept herself to one beer, but I knew from experience that she could pound them back when she wanted.

The more alcohol the group consumed, the dirtier the stories got. Renee kept trying to shush them, as if they were going to poison my precious ears. Like it wasn’t anything I’d heard already. I’d been in college before. I also had the sneaking suspicion they’d been on their best behavior with me in the house.

“Oh, my God, do you remember that time I walked in on you in the shower?” Mase said to Renee.

“No, I cannot recall,” she said, becoming really interested in the half-devoured onion blossom. “But even if I did, that doesn’t mean it’s the kind of story one would tell in front of one’s impressionable younger sister.” Her words were sharp as knives and I think Mase and everyone else got the message. Then there was one of those silent moments where everyone is super uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to say. It stretched out until Dusty cleared his throat loudly and then made a whistling sound like an airplane diving and then crashing in a giant explosion. It was pretty accurate-sounding and made everyone laugh nervously. Our waiter chose that moment to come over and ask if anyone wanted more drinks. I got myself another Dr Pepper and Dusty got another Mountain Dew.

“You’re going to be up all night if you keep drinking that stuff,” I said. Of course we’d been the last people to arrive at the restaurant, so we’d gotten the last two chairs at the end of the table, so of course I was next to him.

“Maybe that’s my plan. Maybe I don’t sleep.”

All I could think of were supernatural creatures. “Vampire, werewolf or zombie?”

“All of the above,” he whispered and winked at me. Why was I talking to him again?

I stole a glance down the table at Renee, but Paul was telling her something and she was laughing. Thank you, Paul. I caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Your sister is, um, protective,” Dusty said.

“It’s a recent development.”

He waved his hand for me to elaborate. “Due to…”