I wondered why she had included her sister in her comment. Susan walked ahead of me and we stepped onto the porch. Misty commented that we should get a room, kissing in public. Susan sat on the railing and told Misty what I said. Misty said she was jealous. We chuckled to that comment. It was almost dark and the girls were nervous about walking back to their car. Misty asked if they could stay the night. I said sure, not expecting them to want to stay. I said I had a spare bedroom. Misty laughed and asked did that mean we couldn’t sleep in my bed. And would three fit. Susan told Misty, sharply, that was enough! It was an awkward moment. Misty retreated and told me that she was only k**ding. I told her I knew that. Misty wanted to take a shower and I found a couple towels. I told her I had a washer and dryer and she could wash her clothes if she wanted. Misty said she would appreciate it; she was stinky. She asked me if I had flannel shirt or something she could wear while her clothes. . A delicate cough interrupted my thoughts. I looked up from the Westmouth prospectus to see Clarissa standing at the end of the table. Her loose golden curls perfectly framed an impossibly pretty face with high cheekbones, perfect button nose and piercing sapphire eyes. Yet despite her immaculate appearance—white blouse, black, knee-length skirt, and matching heels—and her air of effortless elegance, she looked nervous, demure even, as she held her hands in front of her.“Hi,” she said with a shy half-smile. “Mind if I sit with you?” There was something about her tone, although I wasn’t sure what it was. Fear? Hope? Or maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe she was just nervous. I certainly knew how that felt.I shook my head and waved towards the empty seats, too dumbfounded to speak. In all the time we’d been in the same school, I couldn’t recall ever having a single conversation with Clarissa Liddington. It wasn’t done. I was a Townie after all.There were two very clearly.
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