The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he said dully.

I scanned him for any sign of the fight with Frankie, but his knuckles looked good, and his face was as handsome as ever.

Maybe Evelyn heard wrong.

I glanced up from my scrutiny to see Miller’s blue-eyed gaze taking in every part of my face, and then he looked away. He jerked his thumb at the voting table. “You did your civic duty?”

“Ha, that’s exactly what I called it.” I tried for a smile. He didn’t smile back. “I mean, it’s silly but kind of fun.”

“What a waste,” Miller muttered darkly.

“Why do you say that?”

“I can think of a hundred programs that could use the money the school spends renting convertibles for jocks and princesses to tool around the track for twenty minutes after the football game.”

“It’s tradition. And Homecoming is fundraised like anything else. It’s not taking money away from—”

“Right,” Miller spat. “Mr. Hodges has to have a bake sale every year to keep the music department running and barely keeps his job. But by all means, let’s fund a popularity contest, for tradition.”

I stopped walking and put my hand on his arm. “Hey. I know you hate this stuff, but—”

“But you don’t.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m nominated, which is totally nuts—”

“Ah. Now it all makes sense.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

“A year ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead voting for that shit. Guess it’s different if you’re in the running, eh?”

I flinched, crossed my arms. “You’re being a real dick right now.”

He fumed, frustrated. “Aren’t

you supposed to start with Nancy Whitmore today?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Isn’t that a million times more important?”

“Of course, it is. But that…” I waved my hand at the Homecoming table. “That’s just fun. It’s high school. It’s experiences, and I want them. I need them. My every waking hour is taken up with studying and extracurriculars…my home life is imploding. And if Nancy’s really sick—like terminal—I’ll take any distraction I can that isn’t complete shit. Okay?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

We stood in a terrible, tense silence that broke my heart because it wasn’t us. So much stress was etched into Miller’s handsome face, and I saw new worry suffused in his eyes that already held their fair share.

“I heard about what happened with Frankie yesterday,” I ventured.

“I’m sure you did.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Made a new friend.”

“That new guy, Ronan? I have him in History. In theory. He hasn’t shown up—”