This Girl: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

have made her feel uncomfortable. She hands me the grocery list and grabs a cart. “Does it always snow in September?” she asks.
    We just had a seriously intense, slightly awkward moment . . . and she’s asking me about the weather? I laugh.
    “No, it won’t last more than a few days, maybe a week. Most of the time the snow doesn’t start until late October. You’re lucky.”
    She looks at me. “Lucky?”
    “Yeah. It’s a pretty rare cold front. You got here right in time.”
    “Huh. I assumed most of y’all would hate the snow. Doesn’t it snow here most of the year?”
    It’s official. The southern accent is my absolute favorite now. “Y’all?” I laugh.
    “What?” she says defensively.
    I shake my head and smile. “Nothing. I’ve just never heard anyone say ‘y’all’ in real life before. It’s cute. So southern belle.”
    She laughs at my comment. “Oh, I’m sorry. From now on I’ll do like you Yankees and waste my breath by saying ‘all you guys.’ ”
    “Don’t,” I say, nudging her shoulder. “I like your accent, it’s perfect.”
    She blushes again, but doesn’t look away. I look down at the grocery list and pretend to read it, but I can’t help but notice she’s staring at me. Intensely staring. Almost like she’s trying to figure me out or something.
    She eventually turns her head and I steer her in the direction of the foods on her list.
    “Lucky Charms?” I say, eyeing her as she grabs three huge boxes of the cereal. “Is that Kel’s favorite?”
    She grins at me. “No, actually it’s mine.”
    “I’m more of a Rice Krispies fan myself.” I take the boxes of cereal from her and throw them into the cart.
    “Rice Krispies are boring,” she says.
    “The hell they are! Rice Krispies make Rice Krispies treats. What can your cereal do?”
    “Lucky Charms have shooting star marshmallows in them. You get to make a wish every time you eat one.”
    “Oh, yeah?” I laugh. “And what are you gonna wish for? You’ve got three boxes, that’s a lot of wishes.”
    She folds her arms across the handle of the cart and leans forward while she pushes it. She gets that same distant look in her eyes again. “I’d wish I could be back in Texas,” she says quietly.
    The sadness in her answer makes me want to hug her. I don’t know what it is about Michigan that makes her feel this way. I just have an overwhelming need to console her. “What do you miss so much about Texas?”
    “Everything,” she says. “The lack of snow, the lack of concrete, the lack of people, the lack of . . .” She pauses. “The lack of unfamiliarity.”
    “Boyfriend?”
    I say it without even thinking. It’s like I lose my filter when I’m around her. She shoots me a look of confusion, almost as though she doesn’t want to misinterpret my question.
    “You miss your boyfriend?” I clarify.
    She smiles at me, erasing the troubled look that consumed her features just seconds ago. “No boyfriend,” she says.
    I smile back at her. Nice.
    •••
    I DECIDE TO take her the quick route home. I would have taken her the long way again, just to spend more time with her, but I figure she actually needs to know how to get to the grocery store in the event I can’t invite myself along on the next trip. When we pull into her driveway I hop out and make my way around to the rear of the Jeep. When she pops the hood, I pull it open and watch as she gathers her things together. It surprises me how disappointed I am that we’re about to part ways again. I hate the thought that once these groceries are unloaded, I’m going to have to go back home. I want to spend more time with her.
    When she meets me at the back of the Jeep, she smiles and places her hand over her heart. “Why! I never would have been able to find the store without your help. Thank you so much for your hospitality, kind sir.”
    Oh.
    My.
    God.
    That is the hottest damn southern impression I’ve ever heard. And that smile. And that