“But it’s your birthday,” Philippa said. “You shouldn’t be back here.”“I’m happy being alone,” I said. “I’m not like my mothers ...r sisters.”“Oh, should I go?” Philippa asked, shifting. Her hands played together before her as she squirmed. There was an anxious catch to her tone.“No, no, stay,” I said. There was something ... appealing about her. The way she acted. Demure. I closed my book. “Sit.”She sat down beside me at once, adjusting her skirt. She wore sandals, her toenails painted a soft. Watch then! Watch out there." She pointed across the interstate. She snuggled up closer to me. "I’ll help you watch, we’ll make sure nothing gets by." I really liked her southern accent, and the way she smelled too. It was nice having her so close to me, the bus ride was getting a lot more interesting, certainly more fun than reading Tolkien. Then I saw a vehicle with only one headlight! Suddenly I found myself hoping it was a motorcycle, then I hoped it wasn’t, and then . . . "There. More

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