Gwen and her mom go off on some tangent about a wildlife photographer they met in Africa. Sugar seems appropriately engaged in that—he’s apparently a big name in the industry—so I dig into my salad, trying my best to follow along.
It isn’t until Skylar asks, “So do you know where you want to study next year?” that I start to worry for her again.
Apparently, I don’t need to. “Well my absolute dream would be Yale. Their fine arts program is second to none. But my more realistic dream is probably SCAD. The counselor at Preston helped me apply to a lot, though, just in case.”
Mrs. Adams’s face lights up. “Oh, SCAD is lovely. Such a beautiful city. But I wouldn’t sell yourself short on Yale. They’d be lucky to have you.”
Sugar shrugs. “It’s a really competitive school, so I doubt it. Can’t hurt to try, though. SCAD is still—”
I lean in to interrupt, “What’s SCAD?”
“Savannah College of Art and Design,” Sugar explains to me. “The campus is fu—reaking amazing.”
“Better than Preston’s,” Mrs. Adams says, “and that’s saying a lot.”
“What about you, son?” Mr. Adams asks. “Got your eyes set on a particular school?”
I answer easily. “Ah, the appeal of academia is lost on me. I’m going to spend a few years travelling the world instead.”
The Adamses don’t look the least bit put off by this, even if Sugar shoots me a curious glance. Mrs. Adams even raises her glass to me. “That’s an equally valid experience. Learning from the world, giving back what you take, living on your feet. I had a couple years abroad in South Asia before law school, myself.”
Maybe they could have a talk with my dad to that effect. He’s not as sold on that whole validity thing. He hasn’t forbidden me or anything, but he’s still set Preston’s counselor on me like an attack dog.
Sugar and I share an awkward smile, glossing right over the obvious implications of what those kinds of plans might mean for a relationship. It’s early—too early to start thinking a future together—but whatever is happening between us is also too intense to completely ignore it.
Nevertheless, we try.
The dinner goes well enough. Hamilton gives me his number before we depart, even though I’m not sure what I’d ever have to talk to him about. How much of a dick my brother is? I guess contacts have been built on less.
Sugar visibly deflates once she’s in the car. “That didn’t go so bad. Right? It didn’t seem like they hated me.”
“They didn’t seem to hate you,” I agree. “In fact, they seemed to really like you, and buckle up, because I’m pretty sure you might have more of these in your future.”
She groans, but then looks abashed about it. “It’s not that I don’t like them too, it was just a lot of work.”
We’re halfway across town before I finally begin, “So, hey. There’s this thing tonight.”
She looks instantly wary. “What kind of thing?” The way she says it makes it clear she’s expecting a race or something equally as sketchy.
I shake my head. “Nothing like that. Every now and then, we all like to get together at the lake. There’s usually a bonfire. Beer. Weed. Music. The usual. It’s really low-key, not crazy like the car shows.”
She chews on her lip for a moment. “And by ‘we’, you mean…?”
“The group,” I say, trying to find a way to sum up the Devils without outing us as being Devils. I’d already taken a chance of passing Emory what I’d stolen from Miss Weathers—Preston’s college counselor and holder of the keys to the drama department—right in front of Sugar earlier. I need to be careful. “Georgia, V, Em, Reyn, etcetera and so forth.”
“Oh.” She looks relieved, and then thoughtful. “Is that why Vandy told me to bring a change of clothes?”
“Probably.” I haven’t clued them in on her coming yet, but it’s probably obvious. These things are for Devils and their partners only. Sometimes Tyson brings his girlfriend, and Elana had a guy she was into for about five minutes. Ben’s too on the down-low about liking dick to ask whoever he’s been hooking up with, but everyone would be chill about it. Bringing Sugar tonight is an obvious move. “What do you think?”
I can sense her eyes on me, like she’s searching, wondering what the deal is. The truth is, I’ve never brought anyone to one of these things. Before Sugar, the closest I’d ever gotten to legit dating was probably attending a middle school dance with the daughter of someone my dad was chummy with. Asking Sugar to come with me to this is a bigger declaration than taking her to dinner tonight, or kissing her in the hall.
Which is why when she says, “Okay,” it’s a big freaking deal, even if she doesn’t know it.
Sugar changes on the ride up, right beside me in the passenger seat. It’s a bit of a struggle to watch the road instead of the increasing amount of bare skin that flashes in my periphery, but I do my best.
Still get a nice little glance at those tits. She rolls her eyes when I whistle, but goddamn. Her cleavage has been killing me all damn night.
Emory cheers when we arrive. “’Bout time, you fucker!” From the sound of it, plus the way Carlton has lost his shirt—plus the way Afton looks annoyed—it’s clear these guys are already in the thick of it.