Page 85 of The Tartan Thesis

“And that’s the Scottish way. To acknowledge the bad and carry on,” I say. “So we took a ballad, sped it up, and we clap and sing along at the top of our voices.” The firelight flickers across his face as he watches me. “Because despite all that’s happened, we’re still here, still a distinct and proud people, a culture with a rich history that’s worth maintaining, worth celebrating.”

“I love that,” Beau says, his eyes shining. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

We fall quiet again. The kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling. Above us, the clouds shift, revealing a scatter of stars. Beau’s shoulder presses into mine. He doesn’t move away; neither do I.

At some point, Freya joins us, taking a seat by Beau and putting a blanket over her legs. She supervises her team, providing the occasional instruction as they pack up the rest of the chairs and blankets and carry them to the barn.

Once the crew leaves, she turns to us and clears her throat, a gleam in her eye that immediately has me on edge.

“So…” she says, drawing the word out. I close my eyes; here we go. “Did you lads have fun tonight?”

“We sure did,” Beau says, his hand coming out of his coat pocket to wrap around my shoulders. In front of my sister.

My mind spins into panic. What do these public displays of affection mean? What will Freya think?

But she doesn’t seem fazed.

“It certainly seems like you enjoyed the party,” she says, gaze flicking between us, “but it looks like you enjoyed each other even more.”

My eyes go wide. “Och, Freya! What the fuck?”

“Torin, my wee lamb, everyone was talking about it,” she says, her voice all false sweetness. “I’m just saying it to your handsome faces.”

“Shite,” I say while Beau laughs, his arm still around me.

“What’s the problem, Torin?” I can tell by her tone that Freya isn’t letting this go now that she has evidence of our attraction to one another. “You had the hottest date here, everyone loved him, and he ticks off so many items on The List.”

“Freya!” I say again, panic rising in my chest. “He doesn’t know about The List!”

She shrugs, and Beau looks back and forth between us. “What list?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, but Freya ignores me because she is determined to ruin my life. Or push me into a relationship with Beau. Whichever happens first.

“Its formal title is ‘The List of Non-Sexual Things That Are Actually Sexy AF’,” Freya says with far too much pride. “Torin and I started it years ago, and it’s grown over time.”

I groan. This is how I die. By humiliation, by outright embarrassment, at the hand of my sister.

“What have I checked off of this list, Torin?” Beau asks. I don’t look at him. I can’t look at him.

Freya lifts her gloved fingers and starts counting. “Let’s see. Just off the top of my head, I know you’re kind to animals, you read, you have dimples—”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Can they see me if I can’t see them?

“—you remember little things Torin tells you, you carry a handkerchief—”

“Oh my God.”

“—you put your hand behind Torin’s seat when you drive in reverse—”

I make a strangled noise.

“—you have crazy good manners—”

Beau’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter beside me.

“And,” she says, “the hottest one of all: you guide Torin around with your hand on the small of his back.”

There’s a pause.