16
WHITLEY
“Ready for this?” Gavin asked.
We were seated in the back of his black car, heading toward our dinner reservations. I’d come home from an anxiety-ridden day of playing catch-up to throw on a midnight-blue dress and head out again. I’d considered wearing something outrageous to get a reaction from my mom. Show the rebel I’d always been, but I’d given up on that. I just wanted them to go home. Back to Texas, where they belonged, and not in my beloved New York.
I shrugged and chewed on my bottom lip. Gavin reached across the car and took my hand. I jerked my head back to him as he threaded our fingers together.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re nervous.”
“Well … yeah. Pretending for your parents was easy. They wanted to see you happy. They didn’t know who I was.”
“Your parents
