Devon walked me to my car. “Will I see you again?” he asked, opening my driver’s side door.
I slid behind the wheel and looked up at him through the opened window, woozy in lust. The back of my neck prickled. My heart ached when I turned the ignition. “Call me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
I leaned over into the passenger seat, unlocked the glove box, and rummaged around inside for a scrap piece of paper. I found a napkin in the heaping mess of registration papers and miscellanea and scribbled my number in the crinkled margins with a dull pencil.
A bing, bing noise sounded on Devon’s cell phone when I handed him the napkin.
His face lit up in the glowing screen of the phone. “Pete made it home,” he said.
“Took him long enough.”
“He mentioned you.” Devon turned his cell phone toward
