“Sure, lemme just grab my wallet.”

He was back from his room in a second and glancing over at her as he locked his apartment door. He couldn’t help but meet her smile with one of his own. She was one of those people whose smile you felt all the way down to your toes.

“So,” Quentin said as they started the few-block walk to the venue, “what’ve you been doing on your summer break?”

“Let’s see... I’ve been to the beach a bunch already. I’m also trying to catch up on all the movies I missed over the school year. And I’ve been brunching pretty hard.”

He laughed. “You make it sound like a contact sport.”

“The way I brunch? It kind of is. I’m like ‘pitcher of mimosas before I start flipping tables!’”

“I hope you’re not drinking those pitchers all by yourself.”

She laughed. “No. Trust me, I’m a lightweight. I don’t really drink that much at all. I’ve been told I’m kind of a party all on my own.”

He could definitely understand why someone would say that to her. She sort of sparkled under the circles of the streetlights they passed, the orange light catching on the curves of her dark hair, the rise of her cheekbones, the white flash of her teeth. She skipped along to keep up with his long strides, and as she’d attached her keys to her belt loop with a carabiner, each step she took jingled.

“You do sort of have a one-man-band thing going on,” he told her, hiding his smile and tucking his hands into his pockets.

She laughed and nudged his side with a pointy elbow. “I’m deciding to take that as a compliment.”

“Good.”

When they got to the Jarhouse, she scampered forward and grabbed the door before he could.

“After you,” he said, stepping back so that she’d go in first.

“No, no,” she insisted. “You performed your bodyguarding duties admirably—at least allow me to hold the door for you.”

He reached over her head and grabbed the door. “My mom would kick my ass if I didn’t hold the door for you.”

“It’s nice to be out with a gentleman.” She grinned up at him and ducked inside.

He was grateful for the dimly lit bar because he was pretty sure he was blushing again as he followed Cat inside. Music played over the sound system and people were milling around and ordering drinks in the front room. In the back room, they would be charged a cover for the storytelling show that would start in half an hour or so.

“Let’s get a drink!”

“You want to grab seats for the show?” Quentin asked, speaking at the same time as Cat.

“Oh.” She leaned back to catch his eye. “Are you staying for the show? I thought you were just staying for one drink.”

He reached up and flattened his hair down with the palm of his hand. “Um, I thought I would stay. If I’m invited, I mean.”