Book 3 The Summer I Turned Pretty -

She stepped up to the railing, leaving a foot of space between them. The salt wind lifted her hair. She’d stopped straightening it this summer. She’d stopped a lot of things.

He stopped. Swallowed.

Conrad wasn’t at the fire at all. He was up at the house, standing on the back deck, one hand wrapped around a glass of lemonade he hadn’t touched. She could see his silhouette from here. Tall. Still. The kind of still that meant he was thinking too hard. book 3 the summer i turned pretty

Belly watched the flames from the edge of the dune, a red plastic cup dangling from her fingers. She wasn’t drinking. She was counting. She stepped up to the railing, leaving a