Just a Girl by Ellie Cahill

want to get out of here before Rick and Dinah see you, too.”
    Instantly, his face sobered. “Wait. Are they pissed? Am I going to lose my job?”
    A sharp laugh burst out of me. “Uh, no. They are the opposite of pissed. There is no policy against interoffice dating at the Continental.” Now it was my turn to go stone-cold serious in an instant. “Not that we’re dating. I just meant—I mean I know we’re just—not dating.”
    Amusement made his eyes sparkle. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who said it.”
    “I’m—” I closed my mouth, because seriously the only direction you can dig a hole is deeper. And this one was plenty deep already for my taste. “Let’s just go.” I led him out of the lesson area and made a beeline for the front door, but my mother was waiting behind the main register. Like a giant spider in a web.
    “Good night, Presley! Good night, Paul!” she sang out. “Call me if you’re not coming home, Pres.”
    My retaliation instincts had been honed sharp by years with the idiots of The Luminous 6, so it took a lot of mental strength not to flip her off. Instead I gave her a well-practiced look of death. “Bye, Mom.”
    “Bye, Dinah,” Paul said quickly as we passed the register.
    The door chime rang out as I exited, already scanning the lot for Paul’s Subaru.
    “This way,” he said, fishing in his pocket for keys as he led me to the far end of the lot.
    I didn’t speak again until he had the hatch open and the first guitar loaded. When he turned to take the acoustic from me, our eyes met briefly. “I’m sorry about that,” I said.
    “It’s no big deal.” But the tips of his ears were red, and I didn’t think it was the sudden shift from air-conditioned splendor to June humidity.
    “My parents are—they can be a bit much.”
    “Everybody’s parents are weird, right?” He slammed the tailgate and indicated a window decal I hadn’t noticed last night. It read, “My Shelter Dog Is Smarter Than Your Honor Student.”
    I grinned. “I guess so.”
    “So, what are we going to do now that we’ve escaped?”
    “I’m up for anything,” I said, and meant it.
    “Can I buy you a beer, or do you only drink whiskey out of coffee mugs?”
    The answer came to me suddenly. “Buy me a fifth of whiskey and take me somewhere outside.”
    He looked confused.
    “I’ve been a bit of a shut-in since I came back. I just want to breathe.”
    “You got it.”
    I didn’t even wonder where we were going as I dropped into the passenger seat. It just felt so good to be away from the Continental and away from my parents’ house. I opened the window and settled in as Paul backed out of his parking space. The night air was humid, but comfortably cool, and the speed of the car made for a pleasant breeze against my face.
    We didn’t talk much over the wind and the Foo Fighters. For the first time in weeks, I found myself wanting to hum along, and even mouthing a few lyrics. It wasn’t singing, I told myself, but it was closer than I’d let myself get since L.A.
    Paul turned into the first liquor store we passed, which wasn’t that far away.
    He’d taken me at my word. Good listening, Paul.
    Inside, the selection was small, but they had what I was looking for on a shelf behind the counter.
    “A fifth of Glenfiddich,” I told the cashier. He carded me, and I had a flash of fear as I handed over my license. I’d been twenty-one for only a few months, and I still wasn’t used to being legally able to buy. Even though I was legit, a little part of me was always convinced they were going to take away my ID and call the cops. I passed inspection, despite the blonde hair in the picture.
    “Interesting choice,” Paul said as he handed over some cash.
    “Single malt or nothing,” I said loftily.
    Back in the car, I considered asking where we were going, but it was better not knowing somehow. He drove for a while, finally pulling into a park. The lot was all but empty, with only a