Finding Cinderella (Hopeless #2.5)(11)

I crank the car, then put it in reverse and begin to back out.

“The wind will mess up your hair if I roll down the windows. You didn’t bring a purse, which means you didn’t bring a brush, which means you won’t be able to fix your hair when we get to the restaurant.”

She reaches to her door and presses the button to roll down her window. “I’m already dirty and I’d rather have messy hair than smell like a harem,” she says. She rolls the window down completely, then motions for me to roll mine down as well, so I do.

I put the car in drive and press on the gas. The car immediately fills with wind and fresh air and her hair begins flying around in all directions, but she just relaxes into the seat.

“Much better,” she says, grinning at me. She closes her eyes while inhaling a deep breath of the fresh air.

I try to pay attention to the road, but she makes it pretty damn hard.

“What are your brothers’ names?” I ask her. “Are they numbers, too?”

“Zachary, Michael, Aaron, and Evan. I’m ten years younger than the youngest.”

“Were you an accident?”

She nods. “The best kind. My mother was forty-two when she had me but they were excited when I came out a girl.”

“I’m glad you came out a girl.”

She laughs. “Me, too.”

“Why’d they name you Six if you were actually the fifth child?”

“Six isn’t my name,” she says. “Full name is Seven Marie Jacobs, but I got mad at them for moving me to Texas when I was fourteen so I started calling myself Six to piss them off. They didn’t really care, but I was stubborn and refused to give up. Now everyone calls me Six but them.”

I love that she gave herself a nickname. My kind of girl.

“Question still applies,” I say. “Why did they name you Seven if you were actually the fifth child?”

“No reason, really. My dad just liked the number.”

I nod, then take a bite of food, eyeing her carefully. I’m waiting for that moment. The one that always comes with girls, where the pedestal you place them on in the beginning gets kicked out from under them. It’s usually the moment they start talking about ex-boyfriends or mention how many kids they want or they do something really annoying, like apply lipstick in the middle of dinner.

I’ve been waiting patiently for Six’s flaws to stand out, but so far I can’t find any. Granted, we’ve only interacted with each other for a collective three or four hours now, so hers may just be buried deeper than other people’s.

“So you’re a middle child?” she asks. “Do you suffer from middle-child syndrome?”

I shake my head. “Probably about as much as you suffer from fifth-child syndrome. Besides, Hannah is four years older than me and Chunk is five years younger, so we have a nice spread.”

She chokes on her drink with her laugh. “Chunk? You call your little sister Chunk?”

“We all call her Chunk. She was a fat baby.”

She laughs. “You have nicknames for everyone,” she says. “You call Sky Cheese Tits. You call Holder Hopeless. What do you call me when I’m not around?”

“If I give people nicknames, I do it to their faces,” I point out. “And I haven’t figured yours out yet.” I lean back in my seat and wonder myself why I haven’t given her one yet. The nicknames I give people are usually pretty instant.

“Is it a bad thing you haven’t nicknamed me yet?”

I shrug. “Not really. I’m just still trying to figure you out is all. You’re kind of contradictory.”

She arches an eyebrow. “I’m contradictory? In what ways?”

“All of them. You’re cute as hell, but you don’t give a shit what you look like. You look sweet, but I have a feeling you’re just the right mix of good and evil. You seem really easygoing, like you aren’t the type to play games with guys, but you’re kind of a flirt. And I’m not judging at all by this next observation, but I’m aware of your reputation, yet you don’t seem like the type who needs a guy’s attention to stroke your self-esteem.”

Her expression is tight as she takes in everything I’ve just said. She reaches to her glass and takes a sip without breaking her stare. She finishes her drink, but holds the glass against her lips while she thinks. She eventually lowers it back to the table and looks down at her plate, picking up her fork.

“I’m not like that anymore,” she says softly, avoiding my gaze.

“Like what?” I hate the sadness in her voice now. Why do I always say stupid shit?

“I’m not how I used to be.”

Way to go, Daniel. Dumbass.

“Well, I didn’t know you back then, so all I can do is judge the girl sitting in front of me right now. And so far, she’s been a pretty damn cool date.”

The smile spreads back to her lips. “That’s good,” she says, looking back up at me. “I wasn’t sure what type of date I’d be, considering this is the first one I’ve ever been on.”

I laugh. “No need to stroke my ego,” I say. “I can handle the fact that I’m not the first guy to ever express an interest in you.”

“I’m serious,” she says. “I’ve never been on a real date before. Guys tend to skip this whole part with me so they can just get to what they really want me for.”