“A kissing cousin, from what I can see.”
Becca’s best friend.
But she wasn’t a teenager any more, and neither was he.
He pulled his gaze away from Thea and found his mom again, sitting at that table full of strangers, to her anyway, eating and…laughing? Was she laughing?
What had Thea said to his mom? He looked back at the dance floor. With the lights gleaming off her copper hair, she was easy to find.
A long time ago he had thought of her as a skinny, frizzy-haired pest of the worst sort. But in that dress it was clear she wasn’t a matchstick any longer. He remembered another dance, long ago, when he had been tempted to whirl her onto the dance floor, but held back because—
“Jake?” his guitar player prompted.
Damn. The song had ended and he was just standing there staring at Thea.
