Youโre not going to drive me home?โ I asked. A waste of breath, since I knew her answer. โThereโs fog.โ โPatchy fog.โ Vee grinned. โOh, boy. He is so on your mind. Not that I blame you. Personally, Iโm hoping I dream about him tonight.
Becca FitzpatrickThere was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's.
Becca FitzpatrickDonโt panic, I thought. But already my breathing was faster, shallower. โYou mean you can feel happy or sad orโโ โDesire.โ A barely-there smile.
Becca FitzpatrickHe inclined his head at my dress. "What's the occasion?" "Homecoming," I said, twirling. "Like?" "Last I heard, Homecoming requires a date." "About that," i hedged. "I'm sort of...going with Scott. We both figure a high-school dance is the last place Hank will be patrolling." Patch smiled, but it was tight. "I take that back. If Hank wants to shoot Scott, he has my blessing.
Becca FitzpatrickI study her,โ Patch said. โI figure out what sheโs thinking and feeling. Sheโs not going to come right out and tell me, which is why I have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold my eyes, then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Nora is doing right now?โ Laughter rose in the room. I dropped my hands to my lap. โSheโs game,โ said Patch, bumping my leg again. Of all things, I blushed.
Becca Fitzpatrick