Page 45 of Echoes of a Silent Song
There was that bothersome feeling again.
“Maybe Vic was a player,” she suggested.
Callum burst out laughing, his face radiating surprise and joy.He had a wonderful laugh.And she didn’t really think of herself as a particularly witty person.She didn’t make people laugh often.But for her to have made him laugh like that?She felt like she’d won something.
His laughter was contagious, and she joined in, ignoring the curious stares of the people in line in front of them.
When they reached the front, Callum turned to her.“My treat.”
Blair frowned.“Are you sure?What about your master plan to save up and get back to Boston as soon as possible?”She kept her voice light, but the question weighed on her heart.
An indecipherable expression crossed his face.“I don’t think a two-dollar hot chocolate will make much difference.”
“Well.Thank you.”
He was leaving.She had to keep reminding herself of that.Otherwise she just might find herself starting to fall for him.
Chapter Seventeen
CALLUM STOODalong the wall of the Peterson High School commons, marveling at the transformation.All the lunch tables had been folded up and hidden somewhere out of sight to make way for an entire garden full of artificial trees and twinkle lights.Scattered benches and a fake pond formed a photo area—complete with a waterfall made from some type of fabric and still more twinkle lights.Ivy and lights were even woven into the rafters.He had to hand it to the decorating committee—they really had gone all out in their pursuit of the mystical woodland theme.It truly did resemble an enchanted forest.
Or at least, an enchanted forest that contained a dance-remix soundtrack and a healthy population of overly fragranced adolescents.Instead of fauns, teen boys galloped around in attire ranging from rented tuxes to Hawaiian shirts and jeans to—in one memorable instance—a velvet tux jacket and formal tie combined with cowboy boots, jeans, and a Stetson.Callum had to chuckle.You sure wouldn’t seethatin Boston.
As for the girls, most wore skirts that were either too short, way too short, or way, way too short.Many paired their formal dresses with sneakers—was that the trend now?—while a few others teetered on heels that were at least two inches too high for them.They looked like baby horses—or perhaps unicorns, given the theme—learning how to walk, all wobbly and tentative.All these kids were trying on adulthood for the first time, and for the vast majority, it was a suit they had yet to grow into.
Then a pair of open-toed black heels glided past with a stride far too graceful and practiced to belong to a teenager.And the dress she worewas long, unlike those of the students.Long and formfitting with a slit up the side, and—wait, was that a tattoo?Itwas.Dainty and delicate musical notes snaked up a shapely ankle.
His gaze traveled upward, catching creamy pale skin and burnt-auburn hair, and he almost choked.
That was Blair.
That wasBlair.
All week the word that had surfaced to describe her had beenadorable, but that adjective no longer applied.In that glittery bronze dress, she was ...gorgeous?Stunning?Neither seemed sufficient.No, the only thing that could appropriately describe her was music.A tune swelled in his chest, chords and harmonies and things he’d have given his eyeteeth for a month ago.Maybe he’d remember it later.He sure hoped so.Because no way could he tear his eyes away from Blair long enough to find his iPad or a piano.Besides, who needed to write it down?She was music itself.The personification of song.
“I told her to wear that dress.”
Joy appeared to his left, clad in a full-skirted vintage-style dress covered in eighth notes.Her crimson lips curved upward in a grin not unlike that of the Grinch.“And I see it had the desired effect,” she said.
“Joy!”
He turned, and there was Blair herself, even more breathtaking up close.
She didn’t seem to have noticed him yet, though.Her eyes were squarely fixed on her friend.“Your dress!”she exclaimed.“It is socute.”
“Thanks!”Beaming, Joy lifted both sides of her dress.“It has pockets.”
“Jealous.”
“Yours doesn’t have room for pockets.”
Joy’s comment drew his attention to the part of her dress where pockets would be, and indeed it did not have pockets, nor did it have room for pockets, but it did have a pair of hips that looked fantastic in said dress, and dear goodness, he had to stop staring.
“Good thing they invented garter purses,” Blair replied, a grin in her voice.
He choked again.Perhaps audibly, because her wide-eyed gaze found him.
“Callum.Hi.”Her cheeks stained pink.
