"Really?"
I had never owned a bottle of perfume in my life. But somehow I liked the idea of everyone knowing that I, Reed Brennan, had a certain scent that was all mine. It seemed like something a sophisticated girl would have--a Billings Girl. It also seemed like something a guy might appreciate. Like Josh, for instance.
"Yes!" Ariana seemed thrilled at this idea. "Let's see what we have back in our room."
"Wouldn't it not be my signature scent if you guys are wearing it?" I asked, trying to get into the spirit of things.
"I have like ten bottles of crap I don't wear anymore," Noelle said, getting up. "Let's go."
My signature scent derived from ten bottles of crap? Sounded about right. I sighed with a smile as we all walked out the door. Drama and intrigue aside for the moment, it was good to have them home.
187
ACTUAL NORMAL
"We need to do something normal," Josh announced.
He sat down next to me at Sunday dinner, looking almost back to his old self. Apparently the police had decided not to stalk him today. Thus the regular-size pupils and lack of bunny-rabbit skittishness.
"Define normal," Kiran said, laying her IF magazine aside.
"We could BASE jump off the chapel roof," Gage suggested.
I was about 99 percent sure he was serious.
"You cannot BASE jump off the chapel roof," Ariana told him.
From the look on Gage's face, you'd have thought she'd just insulted the size of his manhood. "Why not?"
"Because you'd impale yourself on Big Bubba before your chute even opened," I told him.
Natasha snorted as she continued to text away on her BlackBerry, which she'd been doing nonstop since her return. "Now that I would like to see."
Big Bubba was the nickname of this huge oak tree that stood
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next to the chapel. It had a memorial stone at the base of its trunk indicating that it had been dedicated to the memory of Robert Robertson, class of 1985. At some point, long before I ever arrived at Easton, the tree had been christened Big Bubba. I guessed Bubba was Rob Robertson's nickname. You'd need a good nickname if your parents named you Rob Robertson.
"I mean actual normal," Josh said, pulling his seat closer to the table. "Not 'it could crack your head open' normal or I'll be vomiting in my friend's Chinese takeout by the end of it' normal."
"Hey! That happened one time!" Gage snapped.
Noelle and a few of the others laughed. Inside joke. They had a lot of those. So many that I was getting used to them.
"So, boring normal," Dash said.
"Actual normal," Josh confirmed with a nod.
"Sounds good to me," I said, smiling. "Actual normal is in short supply these days."
Josh's eyes sparkled when he looked at me. "Thankyou."
I blushed. "You're welcome."
Josh reached out under the table and ran the knuckle of his index finger down the side hem of my jeans. Tingles everywhere. Suddenly all I could think about was kissing him again. Kissing him and not being interrupted by three stiff-as-a-boards bent on making our lives miserable. Or by, you know, my own blubbering breakdown. Somehow, from the look in Josh's eye, I knew he was thinking the same thing.
When? Where? For how long . . . ?