The back of Beau’s neck was fascinating. Vin couldn’t stop staring. Tiny blond curls wisped up against the base of his skull, cropped much closer than the rest of his hair. He’d probably had to have his neck shaved, Vin figured, with the short style Beau had sported at the beginning of the year. More than halfway through the semester, however, and much like the rest of the freshman class, Beau had yet to get a haircut. Vin leaned forward against the back of Beau’s seat and twisted one of the curls around his finger, stretching it out to its full length and letting it spring back.
Beau twitched in the driver’s seat, but didn’t say anything.
Ann-Marie, who had preempted Vin’s claim to the shotgun seat by virtue of being more aggressive, was peering at the street signs. The rain had turned
