The Moon and Back: A friends-to-lovers, second-chance romance by Ginger Scott

Author:Ginger Scott [Scott, Ginger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Miss Write, LLC
Published: 2023-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Age 18, First Date

“You know, the two of you could always hang out with me and the guys tonight and jam.” My dad’s furry brow nearly meets his hairline as he peers over his black-rimmed glasses at the two of us in the back seat.

“We’re good, Dad. You enjoy your session.” His gaze hangs on mine for a beat then he sinks back into the driver’s seat and faces the front of the car again.

I would have driven us to the Coachella Valley Fair myself, but parking is expensive. My dad leapt at the chance to chaperone the driving part, and I think despite me being eighteen and technically an adult, he sees me as his little girl right now. And while he loves Johnny as a student and as my friend, his feelings are less enthusiastic about the boy who kissed me in their driveway a week ago.

“Maybe next time, Mr. Fisher.” Johnny’s hand squeezes mine. We’ve remained tethered for the entire drive. In fact, I don’t think I’ve let go of his hand once when we’re together since we went public with our feelings at school on Monday.

“You can keep calling me Mr. Fisher, by the way.” My dad smirks in the rearview mirror, but there’s a little bite to his joke.

Johnny shifts in his seat.

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes flit to mine and I hold back my laugh, spitting out air through tight lips.

My dad isn’t really that intimidating. He wears a pocket protector in his polo shirts, and his idea of lifting weights is holding the trombone up for more than an hour. Still, the sentiment of protective-father is nice, and Johnny’s respect for my dad is sweet.

After several minutes weaving through the dusty drop-off line, Johnny and I slide out through his side of the car at the main entrance.

“I will be here right at nine-thirty,” my father says, punctuating his words with a point of his finger to his bare wrist.

“Good thing I have the watch,” I joke.

His mouth falls flat, unamused.

“I’m serious, Brynn. Be careful, watch your pockets, and don’t eat a bunch of crap you’re only going to throw up.”

“I won’t, Dad,” I hum, lifting my gaze to the tips of my brow.

“And I love you,” he adds to his instructions.

“I love you, too.” I push the door shut and wave with my free hand as my dad pulls away.

“Pockets? And throw up?” Johnny echoes the highlights of Dad’s speech.

I shake my head as we head to the main entrance, our pre-purchased tickets printed out on yellow paper from the school printer.

“My dad hates the fair because the one time he took me and my friends, someone stole Cori’s wallet from her pocket while we were in line waiting for Icees. We were ten.”

Johnny lifts a brow.

“And the vomit?”

I sigh, then shrug.

“I threw up a lot of Icee about thirty minutes later on the Gravitron.”

“Eww.” His mouth twists and his nose scrunches.

“It’s as bad as it sounds. I’m much more mature now.”

I tug Johnny’s hand toward a line with fewer people, and we zip through after our papers are scanned.

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