The Truth About That Summer

sixty-six

"All right, Grams," I tread down the stairs carefully in my sandals, "I'm about to head out. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

Part of me hopes she does, that she'll think of some last minute item on her agenda and tell me I can't go to the cookout today. Ridiculous butterflies swarm my belly and I'm not sure if they're because I'll be seeing Luke momentarily or if they're because I'll be seeing his family shortly, too.

With the exception of Laura, I haven't seen them since Casey's funeral. If her reaction is any indication about how his parents feel about me, today has the potential to be pretty miserable.

Part of me is dying to get out of this, wishing I never said yes in the first place.

"I've told you a hundred times," Grams shuffles from the kitchen, a mug of tea in her shaky hands, "I'm fine. I'll be watching my programs. Now go, have a good time."

And then there's the part of me that bites back a smile as I hear Luke's truck pulling into the gravel driveway. My heartbeat races as I twirl slowly for Grams, looking for one more round of approval before I see him.

"Fine, I'll go." I mutter, holding my arms out to the side, "But first, how do I look?"

I'd settled on a white sundress over a black one-piece swim suit. Something quick to throw back on if things go poorly and I have to make a quick escape.

"Beautiful as always." Grams squeezes my fingers gently as she makes her way to the sofa. "You look lovely in that dress."

"Oh, this old thing?" I tease, raising a brow just as a loud knock bangs on the door.

My breath catches as I look to Grams, childlike excitement rushing through me despite the guilt just below the surface, threatening to spill over.

"You're sure?" I ask again.

"Oh, for God's sake, Dylan Grace, don't keep the boy waiting." But her smile is warm.

With a breath, I reach for the door only for it to swing open just before my hand touches it. And then I'm eye-level with Luke's lean chest, almost running into him.

I look up, catching his pretty eyes. "What's the point of knocking if you'll just let yourself in, anyways?"

He smirks, one dimple deepening cheekily. But he ignores the question, letting out a low whistle from the corner of his lips.

"My, my, Miss Dylan," His eyes fall from my gaze to my mouth, lingering for a moment before finishing his sweep of my body, and then meet mine again.

"Doesn't she look nice?" Grams coos, "The sun has always agreed with her."

"I'd say so," Luke murmurs, an innocent enough smile on his face for her benefit. "Very, very nice."

His eyes tell me that is definitely not how he'd describe it. Not even close.

My cheeks get hot. "Okay, both of you." I grab Luke's arm, tugging him through the door before I lose my nerve, and  call over my shoulder, "I'll call if I'll be late."

"Actually, June," Luke halts, stopping me with him, "I do plan on keeping Dylan late tonight, if that is alright with you?"