The Hollow (14 page)

"Tomorrow. At the library. Two thirty/* I said in a whisper. I didn't want to speak too loudly. He nodded in agreement.

Something stretched and ebbed and flowed between us. In the back of my mind I wondered if it was electricity. If we kissed, would there be sparks?

Self-consciously I took a step closer. I wasn't sure what was about to happen, but I definitely wanted
something
to happen. There was this tug inside of me, and I was close. So close. Heart-breakingly, earth-shatteringly close.

I tried to control my breathing, but it came out faster and faster.

Downstairs the clock started to toll and I held my breath as it chimed once for every hour. Ten, eleven, twelve strokes. It was midnight.

His eyes started darkening, I could see the emotions in them. Reaching out one finger, he gently traced my cheek the same way he had traced that picture frame. Slowly, almost unsure of himself. And even though we were both fully dressed, with our shoes off, everything became more intimate. I felt small and dainty next to him.

"I really need to go, Abbey," he whispered to me. "Your parents will be home soon, and I…"

"Don't go. Stay." I sighed. I wanted to close my eyes and soak in the feeling of his touch. But I couldn't look away. Not even for a second.

My lips were suddenly very dry, and I licked them. He watched me. Intently.

Then he traced my lower lip… hesitantly again. My eyes lowered shut.

Now.
It was going to happen now.

"I don't know if…" He groaned and suddenly pulled away. My eyes flew open, and I saw him running his hands through his hair almost desperately. That wild look was back in his eyes, coupled with something determined, and dangerous.

He paced around the room several times in an agitated manner. Then he seemed to make up his mind, and came back to me.

Urgently grasping my face between his palms, he stared into my eyes. Searching for something in them.

"Caspian? What's wrong?" I opened my eyes wide, to show him whatever he wanted to see. Not even sure what that really was. He looked for a moment longer, and then spoke.

"Promise me you won't go to the river alone at night again. I don't want the same thing to happen to you, Abbey. Oh God, I thought you were dead in that water."

I knew what he was talking about. The desperateness in his voice spoke louder than any words ever could.

"There's so much I want, yet can't have… The timing's not right." He closed his eyes and stroked my cheek once. "Just please, please meet me tomorrow, Abbey. Don't forget. Promise?"

"I won't forget," I promised. "And I won't fall in."

When he opened his eyes again, he looked relieved but still edgy. Casting a glance over at the clock on my nightstand, he said again, "I really do have to go."

I was lost. I didn't know what was happening now. I knew what had
almost
happened, and I was pretty sure I wanted to go back to that place.

"You don't have to go, Caspian. Not… yet." My gaze darted to the bed and then quickly back to him. I didn't know what part to play in any of this, what my role was.

"Yes, I do, Abbey," he sighed. "Believe me, it's not that I don't … I just need to go." He trailed a fingertip across my bottom lip for the shortest of moments. "What I meant about the star and the name Astrid… It's for you. You're my star," he said quietly. "Please don't forget about tomorrow." Then he cast a quick glance down. "And don't forget to take care of your hands. Sweet dreams, Astrid."

I heard him walk down the stairs, and then a door opened and closed, but I couldn't move. I was too stunned. My feet were rooted to the ground, while the words "my star" and "Astrid" played through my head. Then a huge smile spread across my face, and I laughed out loud as I tried to spin in a wobbly circle. My awkward movements reflected in the mirror hanging on my closet door, and I stopped short, and looked closer.

My eyes were shining and I had rosy cheeks, but the rest of me was wet and bedraggled. My hair lay in a limp, soggy mess around my shoulders, and my dress was stained by the mud and grass. I held my palms out in front of me. Each one bore several jagged scratches, and the edges were darkened with dried blood.

The implications of where I'd been, and what I'd done, suddenly sank into me.

I was insane; I had to be. I could have drowned in the river. Hit my head on that tombstone. Been attacked by someone hiding in the cemetery.

Astrid

And then I realized who had been there with me, who had talked me off of that proverbial ledge and out of the water. Walked me home and made sure I was safe. Listened to me babble on like a crazy person. Waited by my side while I cried.

I needed to share this with someone, and I had the perfect person in mind.

Grabbing a notebook and pen off my desk, I curled up in the window seat. My prom dress had already started to dry, so it didn't bother me at all now, and I started writing a letter to Kristen. From the beginning, I told her everything.

I wrote about how hard it had been for me to go to her funeral, to believe that she was really gone. I explained how lost I'd felt during the last couple of months without her. The feeling I'd gotten when I touched her casket. I described the sensation of that crinkly yellow police tape in my hand. Then I told her about the cheerleaders, and what they had done. About prom night, and the girls in the pink and yellow dresses. How I'd danced wildly through the cemetery, and made her a perfume.

But what I wrote about the most was someone with vivid green eyes, and white-blond hair with a streak of black. I explained how we met, and how he'd kept me company at her house. The tour I'd given him of the graveyard, and our talks about classic literature. I told her that he'd been there for me tonight, when I finally hit the bottom, and how he made the lost feelings disappear.

The only thing I left out was the special name he had given me. I needed that to be my own private memory for now, and it was the first time I had ever consciously kept something from Kristen.

By the time I finished writing, I had filled up an entire notebook and my pen was running out of ink. Mom and Dad still weren't home yet, and the clock told me that it was one a.m.

I got up from the window seat and grabbed the blue glass bottle with Kristen's name on it from my desk. Then I sprinkled a couple of drops over the notebook pages. My lower desk drawer yielded me a half-used book of matches and a new red candle, so I grabbed those, too.

After lighting the candle, I carried it back over to the window seat. I set it down carefully on the ledge and pried open the old window. The night air was clear and cool. I took a deep breath and felt calm. Very, very calm.

I slowly tore out the pages from the notebook, and held the candle out the window as I fed it scraps of paper, one by one. I watched each wisp of smoke spiral up into the sky, and the ashes scatter to the wind. The scent of the perfume mingled with the smell of the candle and created a hazy veil around me.

I thought about a specific memory with Kristen as I burned each page, and hesitated when I finally reached the last one. "I won't say good-bye, because I hope some part of you will always be with me. So I'll say… to a new beginning. It's an end to our old way of making memories, but I'll find a way to make new ones, I promise. I'll never forget you, Kristen. Never," I vowed as the last notebook page disappeared into ash in front of me.

Blowing out the candle, I sat it on the floor and got up to turn off the lights. I was feeling sleepy, but I didn't want to go to bed just yet. So I stepped out of the messy prom dress and left it in a heap on the floor. Then I threw on some shorts and an old T-shirt and returned to my window. I decided to leave the dress where it was until morning and then stash it in the closet before Mom had a chance to see it.

It was going to cost a fortune to get it dry-cleaned and repaired.

The next thing I knew, my alarm was chirping that it was eight a.m., and my face was wearing the imprint of the window sill. Cracking one eyelid open, I saw that my window was now closed and the dress that had been on the floor was gone.

Chapter Eleven

The Library

From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of delight, the peace of his mind was at an end…

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

My head started pounding the minute I stood up, and I had a terrible cramp in my neck. Sleeping on the windowsill had probably not been the brightest idea I'd ever had. Moving very slowly, I double-checked the floor again, and then my closet, to make sure I hadn't dropped the dress in there.

No luck. The dress was definitely gone.

I was having a hard time caring about that, though. Breakfast and some headache medicine were first on my list… and then I would worry about the dress.

Creeping downstairs took all of my effort, and I had to concentrate very hard to not miss any of the steps on the way down. Mom was making coffee when I reached the kitchen, and she turned when I stumbled in.

"Morning, honey. Want some coffee?" She held up an empty mug.

"Egghhh," I grunted, hoping she would take that as a no. I pulled out a cereal bowl and then cringed as the cabinet door slammed shut and the sound echoed through my head.

"Headache," I grunted again while I moved at a snail's pace to pour the cereal and some milk.

Barely making it to the table, I sat the bowl down and rested my head in my hands. Then I groaned loudly.

"Rough night?" asked Mom, coming to sit beside me.

"Don't ask," was my muffled reply.

She didn't get the chance to, because just then an even louder groan came from the living room. She patted my back and rubbed the top of my head. "Poor baby. Your father is feeling your pain. Apparently he can't handle mixed drinks like he used to. I ended up being the designated driver last night."

A horrible, pitiful on-the-edge-of-death's-door moan erupted from the living room again.

"I better go check on him," she said, putting her coffee mug down and getting up from the table. "I don't want him to ruin the couch."

She hesitated for a moment, and I almost heard the gears start clicking in her head. She was a loud thinker. "You don't… have a headache for the same reason your father does… do you, Abbey?"

"No, Mom." I lifted my head a fraction of an inch. "It's called falling asleep in a window seat with my neck propped up at a weird angle.
That's
why I have a headache."

I swear she actually sighed with relief.

"That's good. Let me go check on your father and then I'll bring you back some aspirin, okay?"

She really was a good mom.

I tried to say thank you, but it came out as another groan. I debated whether or not I could just stay where I was for the rest of the day, but I knew I needed to eat my cereal. It wouldn't take long for it to get all soggy.

Reaching for my spoon, I lifted my head up and saw the angry red scratches on my hand. They were still bloody. I never cleaned them last night. Focusing on the tabletop beside the bowl, I shoveled cereal into my mouth as fast as I could. I
definitely
wanted to skip the round of ten questions that I knew would come from Mom if she saw the scratches.

Gulping down the last of the cereal, I got up to drop the bowl into the sink. Then I ran some cool water over my palms and wiped them gently with a washcloth. Once the dried blood was washed away, they didn't look so bad.

My head started pounding out a symphony again, and I staggered back from the sink. I held one hand to my throbbing temple and waited for the pain to ease up. I must have really been distracted by my hands if I'd forgotten about my headache.

I managed to walk back to the table and resume my head-in-hands position. It wasn't long before I heard Mom come in again.

"So what were you doing sleeping by your window last night? It was wide open. I had to shut it so you didn't fall out."

I cracked open an eyelid and glared at her. "Headache," I pleaded pathetically. "Medicine?"

She threw her hands up into the air. "I get it, I get it. You don't want to talk about it. But if you tell me why, I'll get you a nice big cup of orange juice to go with your aspirin."

I cracked open my other eye. She had her eyebrow raised.

"Mothers are not supposed to bribe their sick children," I mumbled. "But if you must know, I fell asleep by the window because I was enjoying the night air. There was a nice breeze. That's it. Are you happy now?" I put one hand up to my temple and groaned.

Yeah, I might have been faking it a bit, but I really did have a killer headache. I closed my eyes again, and a minute later I heard two pills and a glass being plunked down onto the table. Keeping my eyes tightly closed, I groped for the pills and washed them both down with the juice.

"Thanks, Mom." I took a break from the juice and opened my eyes again. "I'm feeling pretty awful here. Is it okay if I go take a nap before we start on the attic?"

She must have felt bad about the bribery thing, because she let me off the hook for the attic reorganizing and didn't even bring the dress up at all. I dragged myself back up the stairs, set my alarm for twelve thirty, and collapsed in a heap on the bed.

I was asleep before I even hit the pillows.

''Come on, Kristen." I kicked my foot up from the water and playfully splashed her. "Take off your shoes and come on in."

She was sitting at the edge of the riverbank, reading a book "Not right now, Abbey. I'm busy."

I splashed her for a second time. "What are you reading?

What can be more important than your best friend? "

She smiled and laughed but didn 't say anything.

Wading closer to the edge, I tried to see the title of the book. But Kristen used her hand to cover one of the pages. "You 'II get water on it," she said.

"No, I won't," I protested. "Look, I'm not even close." I tried again to persuade her to come into the river. "Put the book down, Kristen. You '11 have plenty of time to read it later.
"

"I can't
.
I have to read it now."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "What
is
it? I swear I won't get it wet"

Kristen smiled again and held the book up for me to see. The pages were soaked. All the ink was running together, and water ran from the spine. "You already did. "

Even after my strange dream about Kristen, when the alarm went off, I woke up ready to go. Whether my good mood was due to the nap, my headache being gone, or the excitement of who I was going to see, was debatable. But I was excited… and happy. Somehow I knew that from now on I was going to be having a lot of good days. I spent a couple of hours making quite a mess in the bathroom trying to revive my faded red highlights, and narrowly avoided a whole tub of bleach going down the drain. The highlights had been gone for a very long time, and I pretty much had to start from scratch. None of that mattered, though, when I saw the final result. It was perfect.

When I was ready to get dressed, what was
supposed
to be a quick trip to my closet turned into an agonizing thirty-minute debate over what I should wear. I heavily debated forsaking the color black for something different, but eventually settled with jeans, a long black T-shirt, and a black cropped jacket.

I checked my palms and was relieved to see that the scratches almost blended in. I dabbed a tiny bit of ointment on each one, to make sure they stayed that way, and blew on them to dry. I still had about fifteen minutes before I had to leave, so I went back down to the kitchen and heated up some leftover Chinese noodles. I got so caught up in a magazine Mom had left on the table that before I knew it, the noodles were gone, and so was my time.

Dashing back upstairs, I grabbed my cell phone, shoved a twenty into my back pocket, and wondered what else I was forgetting. When my eyes landed on the desk, I knew.

I hurried over and dug through a pile of tiny sample vials all crammed into the desk drawer, cursing myself the whole time for not labeling them better. But finally I found it.

Liberally dousing myself behind each ear and on my throat, I breathed in the fragrance of snickerdoodle cookies. After one last look in the mirror, I was on my way.

I made amazing time actually getting to the library, and was surprised to see that I was ten minutes early. The comforting smell of books surrounded me as I stepped through the massive wooden entrance door and walked into the familiar space. Caspian had said he would find me, but I didn't know where I should wait.
Chapter Eleven The Library Page 211
I made amazing time actually getting to the library, and was surprised to see that I was ten minutes early. The comforting smell of books surrounded me as I stepped through the massive wooden entrance door and walked into the familiar space. Caspian had said he would find me, but I didn't know where I should wait.
The basement archive room beckoned to me, and as I descended, I wondered how Caspian would ever find me if I didn't stay in one place.
Flickering lightbulbs sputtered overhead, and the room had a stale smell to it. I walked among towering shelves, endless and mazelike, literally stuffed with old books. Every now and then a bare spot would be revealed, like the gap of a missing tooth. I moved quietly, almost reverently, through this room that held so much history.
I don't know what made me look over when I did, but Caspian was standing there in a corner. He was dressed in jeans and a dark green shirt. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turned toward me at that exact moment, and a huge smile broke out on his face. It was full of happiness.
"Astrid." It was a whisper. I shouldn't have been able to hear it, but I did.
At that moment-in that small, concise, perfectly clear moment of time-I knew. It was
that
moment I fell in love with him. It actually caused me to stop, and time froze for just a second.
But the feeling was so right, and so strong, that I knew I wasn't wrong.
Then everything went back to normal. I walked toward him, and he kept smiling at me. A million thoughts were racing through my head as I kept walking.
Can he tell? Is it showing on my face? Am I giving it away somehow? When should I tell him? How should I tell him? What if he doesn 'tfeel the same? What if he does?
I tried to be cool and keep my smile steady, but I couldn't stop the extra spring in my step. "Hi," I said shyly as I got closer.
How do you say hello to someone when you 've just found out that you love him?
I smiled again and tried to put some of my newly discovered feelings behind that smile.
"I'm glad you could make it." He was still smiling too. "And really glad you didn't forget. Today is… a good day."
It was strange how relieved he sounded, and it threw me slightly off balance.
"How could I forget after everything you did for me last night?" I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he turned slightly pink and ducked his head. Reaching for one of my hands, he turned it palm-side up and slowly traced one of the scratches.
I had to hold back a gasp as his fingers gently grazed the delicate skin. He hesitated a little, like he was still afraid to touch me. My whole arm tingled in pleasure. Was this even legal in public?
A shiver ran through me, and tiny goose bumps stood up on my arms as his fingers released my hand. I laughed lightly and tried not to beg him to touch me again.
"I only wanted to protect you, Abbey. To make sure you were okay, and that you got home safely," he said. "I don't want anything to happen to you." The look he gave me went straight to my heart.
He started stroking my palm again. His fingers were long and lean, and so very, very warm. I tried to think of a way to steer the conversation to something else, but it was useless. My brain was quickly turning to mush.
Good Lord. All he was doing was touching my hand, and I was ready to tell him my heart was all his. And I was pretty sure that I was getting to the point where I didn't even care if he would ever love me back, as long as he promised to never stop touching me.
I don't know if my face showed what I was thinking, or if he somehow read my mind, but he let go of my hand and gave me a crooked smile.
"I want to talk about Kristen today. Is there anywhere we can go where we won't be disturbed? That has chairs? I don't really know my way around here."
My brain was still slightly foggy from the sensory overload of just moments before, but it cleared up quickly. "There's a room upstairs for private tutoring, but no one uses it. I can go talk to a librarian that I know about it, if you want."
He nodded his agreement. "I'll wait for you there. Which way upstairs?"
I walked him over to the wooden staircase leading out of the archive room. "Follow these all the way up to the fifth floor. It's at the end of the hall, to your left. You can't miss it. I'll be right up." He nodded again and started up the stairs.
I went to go find my favorite librarian, Mrs. Walker. She didn't have any problem letting me use the room, so I headed up to meet Caspian. The banister definitely got cobwebbier the farther up I went, and it seemed like every other step groaned with old age. There was hardly anyone in the library, and I didn't pass a single soul on my long journey.
When I finally reached the room, Caspian was fidgeting in his chair. His fingers were drumming softly on the table in front of him, and his eyes moved constantly, never settling on one thing for too long. Even from the doorway, I could tell that he was filled with a restless energy.
He seemed to calm down the instant he saw me, though, and pulled out a chair right next to him. I had been planning to sit across from him, but I wasn't going to argue about that seating change.
"So I guess we won't be able to get away with anything in here," he said seriously, pointing to the KEEP THIS DOOR OPEN AT ALL TIMES sign posted above the light switch.
I eased the door shut so that it was cracked open only a little bit before I made my way over to the chair. "Well, they never said anything about keeping it
wide
open," I offered back, just as serious. We both grinned at the same time.
"Now tell me about this dream you had," Caspian said. "About that night at the river."
I took a deep breath and looked down at the table, focusing my mind back.
"We had gone to the cabin for the weekend," I began. "We got there Friday evening and didn't really do anything out of the ordinary. Unpacked our stuff, got a couple of things out of storage, had dinner, and then went to bed. I looked over some notes right before I fell asleep, for a new perfume I was trying to make at home. Rose, lavender, and cloves."
I looked up at him, and he was paying close attention, completely centered on everything I said. His eyes were focused and intense. I forced myself back to the matter at hand.
"I remember waking up a lot that night. I was having nightmares. But they weren't different nightmares; it was always the same one. Every time I fell back to sleep, I would just fall back into that same nightmare." A warning bell started ringing in the back of my brain.
"Do you remember anything specific about the dream?" he prodded gently.
The bell got louder, and I knew the answer to that question was yes.
I closed my eyes and immediately slid back into the memory. Vivid pictures sprang to my mind in a wild cascade of imagery, and I had to fight my way through to tell which way was up.
They didn't make sense, almost as if I was viewing them out of order. Slowing each image down, I dug deeper and tried to remember the beginning of the dream.
"I can't do it. It's all messed up in my head." I let out a frustrated sigh and opened my eyes again. My head was starting to ache from all that damn ringing. "I'm having a hard time piecing it all together now, but that morning, I remembered every detail. Like I had actually
been
in the dream." I looked over at him.
"Try again, Abbey. Look at what's around you in the dream, and then think about what you are physically feeling." His voice was soft, and it calmed the warning bell that was clanging so loudly in my head. That bell told me I knew what had happened in the dream, even if I didn't want to remember it.
I closed my eyes and concentrated hard. Suddenly I was there. Back in the dream again… the night she died.
The library room fell away, and I was in a new place. The emotions I felt were large and heavy, pressing down on me. This must have been what it had felt like to be Kristen.
"Panic. Terror," I blurted out. "It's cold and I have to fight it." Something exploded in the back of my skull, erupting into a terrible pain that danced along my brain.
I peered dimly at my surroundings in the dream, through that pain-filled memory. "There are shadows all around me. But I can't see anything else. It's too dark. Everything is dark." I felt another surge of feeling, one last desperate attempt to fight. "I'm trying to fight it, but it hurts," I said. "It won't let me go." The pain in my head was joined by an ache in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I was going under.
His hand gripped mine, and I held on to it like he was my lifeline. I wanted to stop. I didn't want to do this anymore. There was another rush of pain, and fear… and then nothing. She was gone. Just like that.
I slowly opened my eyes and saw Caspian staring at me. His eyes were filled with compassion.
"I'm sorry, Abbey. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know it would be like that for you. Are you okay?"
I blinked away hot tears and gave him a shaky laugh. "Wow. That was a head trip I hope I don't have to repeat again anytime soon."
He squeezed my hand, and we sat there in silence. I was glad for the quiet time to collect my thoughts. He waited, casting anxious glances at me every couple of seconds.
"I'm okay, Caspian," I finally said, holding his hand tighter and looking him in the eye. "Really, I'm okay."
"Should we stop talking about this?" Worry filled his eyes. "I don't want to cause you any more pain, Astrid."
That name banished any second thoughts I was having, and I squared my shoulders. "It's not you, Caspian. It's never you. If any of this gets too hard for me, just give me a moment to work through it, and I'll deal. Kristen deserves this. She deserves some sort of sense made out of her death. I know that we'll get through this… together."
It was the boldest thing I had said to him yet, referencing us together. I held my breath and prayed that he wouldn't crush my heart with his response.
"It's a deal," he replied, gifting me with his beautiful smile. His thumb stroked the back of my thumb, and my heart swelled. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, "What about before the dream? Did Kristen act strange, or did anything unusual happen?"
I replayed those weeks before her death in my mind, but came up with a blank. "I don't remember anything unusual happening. Nothing that sticks out to me, anyway. We were supposed to go shopping for school clothes when I got back from the cabin, but that's pretty much it."
"It's so strange," Caspian mused, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair. "What was she doing at the river? Did she decide to go for a walk? Did she slip and fall in? I wish I could have been there."
"We made a pact when we were little to never go to the river alone at night, in case something happened," I said softly. "I don't know what would have made her break it." I stared off into space, trying to figure out the answers. "I guess we'll never know."
I gulped away a sudden lump in my throat and took his hand again. He seemed surprised by the contact, and looked directly at me. His eyes were very wide and clear.
"Thank you," I said. "And thank you for finding me last night." It was heartfelt and sincere, and he bowed his head in response.
"Now," I teased, giving his hand a short squeeze. "Enough of all this sad talk. When are you going to tell me how much you like my hair?" I shook my head and sucked in my cheeks, doing my worst fashion model pose.
He laughed and tugged on one of the red tinted curls. "I like your hair, Abbey. But the real question is: Do you like mine?" He finger-combed his shaggy blond hair forward until it completely covered his face, and then he peeked out at me with one barely visible green eye.
I returned the favor by tugging gently on the black stripe. "I especially like the black."
"It's been there since third grade. I went to a swimming party for this kid's birthday and almost drowned. After that it just sort of grew in." He shrugged nonchalantly and looked away, but there was some sadness behind the gesture.
He shook his hair, and I briefly wondered what hair god had decided to give guys the ability to shake their heads and have their hair fall perfectly into place, while girls have to work so much harder at it.
"It's very rock star," I teased. "All the third-grade girls must have loved it."
"Not very many people liked it back then," he said. "It didn't take me long to learn that I should start dyeing it. Over the years, well… I guess the dye just stopped working."
I pictured him in third grade, being picked on by the other kids for something he had no control over, and my heart broke a little for him.
Then he smiled again and gave my hair another tug. The sadness disappeared. "All that matters now is the fact that you like it, Abbey."
My heart somersaulted.
He is the most perfect man on earth.
I didn't know what to say, so I quickly launched into the tale of my narrowly avoided mishap this morning involving the bleach and the bathtub. He started laughing really hard. And then I found myself regaling him with other hair misadventures from my youth. I think he liked the let's-cut-our-own-bangs-Kristen story the best.
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and holding hands, taking turns to see who could make who laugh the loudest. This involved many wild hand gestures and snorts. I especially liked the fact that as soon as he realized he was no longer holding my hand, he would grab on to it, almost desperately. I had totally been missing out the other times we'd met.
It wasn't until I was actually wiping away tears of laughter- one-handed, of course-that I realized I had no idea what time it was. I took my cell phone out of my pocket and checked the clock. The library would be closing in less than an hour.
"Wow," I could hear the surprise in my voice. "It's five thirty already."
Caspian stopped laughing. A look I was starting to recognize crossed his face. "I hate to say it, Abbey, but I need to go."
"I know. I figured." I hadn't meant for my answer to come out sounding so depressed, but it sort of did.
"I'll tell you what. I have to meet my dad at eight tonight, but what if we meet afterward? I promise I'll have you home by midnight."