“Hey ya, Ben!” Holly bursts through the entryway, shoving my risqué thoughts to the back of my mind. But they push back when I take in her appearance.

She’s wearing a green coat with golden buttons and a belt that ties at her waist. This comes to about mid-thigh, revealing her slender yet muscular legs, which travel down to a pair of black heeled boots that cover just to her ankles.

My mind, still not fully leashed in, takes a second to imagine me peeling her coat off and finding nothing underneath.

“You ready to go?” I try to use my mouth to keep my thoughts in line but no promises.

“Lead the way.”

My car is only one street over, which is good because the cool night air causes goose bumps to scatter along Holly’s exposed skin. A minute detail I try not to focus on. I hand her the keys, and once she turns on the ignition, I crank the heat up.

“Thank you,” she whispers the words.

If I can always anticipate her needs, I’ll be a happy man.

“No problem. Just head straight out of here, and I’ll let you know when to turn.”

I gesture ahead of us, and she nods. Holly driving seems natural now. Comfortable.

“Tell me more about this party.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her fidget.

Is she nervous?

“The girls who live in the house are mostly art majors, so I’m guessing that’s what the crowd will be. But Jasper should be stopping by.”

“Do you know them from class?”

“No, I’ve never gotten the chance to take an art class.”

“What?” She brings the car to a more abrupt stop than needed at a red light before turning to face me. “You’ve never taken an art class?”

“No.”

“But you’re so good!”

Uncomfortable with her praise, I instead point through the windshield. “Light’s green.”

Her eyes roll as she presses the gas pedal. “I can’t believe you haven’t taken any classes,” she mutters.

I want to correct her, to tell her about my granddad. But Holly likes asking questions, and that’s a road with a depressing end. Thankfully, she lets it go, but the new topic isn’t much better.

“So, how do you know them?”

The back of my neck itches. “I used to date one of the girls—Annabelle. Take a right here.” My tone comes out casual … I think.

The blinker flicks on, and we make a slow turn onto a busier street. Holly keeps her focus on maneuvering through traffic, nothing on her face showing any kind of reaction to my honest answer.

“Is she the one who invited you?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she going to mind you showing up with another girl?”

Her question makes our outing sound like more than just two friends hanging out. More like we’re on a date.

I bite my bottom lip to keep my grin from spreading.

“Well, she and I aren’t dating anymore. So, she doesn’t get a say.” And, because it’s been pounding in the back of my brain, I ask, “What about you? Any boyfriend who’s gonna be giving me the stink eye for being your new best friend?”