Feeling brave, I took a sip, winced at the heat that scorched my throat, and handed it back with a cough.
We sat side by side for a beat, soaking in the quiet hum of small-town living. The stars were faint tonight, blurred by leftover clouds, but the crickets had returned, and the world smelled like earth and something wild.
“She said you make her tummy feel good,” I said, studying my black rubber boots.
Austin didn’t look at me. “She’s a cool kid.”
I laughed. “She’s impossible. Moody. Dramatic. Smart in a way that actually terrifies me.” I exhaled dramatically. “But she really is the best.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I think I understand her.”
My body tilted slightly in his direction, and I hated that I didn’t correct it. I wanted to lean in, to press closer. I could smell him—woodsmoke, rain, something a little spicy clinging to his skin.
“You’re really good with her,” I finally admitted.
His chin tilted toward me as an eyebrow crept up his forehead. “You sound surprised.”
A laugh huffed from my chest. “I am.”
Austin finally turned his frame toward me, and the way he did—like he was peeling back layers I didn’t know I was still wearing—left my mouth dry.
“I don’t want to be surprised,” I added quickly. “I just ... I didn’t expect all this.”
His voice dropped. “What did you expect?”
I swallowed hard. “Someone less invested. More temporary. More ... typical.”
He leaned in slightly. “Do I seem temporary to you?”
God help me.
His face was inches from mine now, and I could feel the heat between us, like it had its own gravitational pull. My breath caught, and he saw it—he had to. His eyes dropped to my mouth.
Then I blinked and straightened, and the moment shattered.
I turned slightly, creating distance that didn’t feel natural. “I should go in.”
Austin exhaled slowly but didn’t move.
I stood, brushed imaginary dust from my shorts. “Thanks for the drink.”
He stood, too, closing the gap. “Selene.”
I looked up, already regretting the space I’d created.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his fingertip burning a path down my arm before catching my wrist. “You can think about me later. When you touch yourself.” His voice was low, deliberate. “I might even hear it through the walls. And if you ask nicely ... I might even join you.”
The words hit like a lightning strike—hot and delicious and completely inappropriate. I turned without answering, walked back through the door on legs that didn’t feel steady.
I closed it behind me, locked it with trembling fingers, and leaned against it, cheeks flaming and heart hammering.
I was in so much trouble.
ELEVEN
AUSTIN
The sun waswarm enough to peel off the layers by midafternoon. I’d spent most of the evening hauling wood chips into the back half of the duplex lawn, where grass had given up and weeds had taken over. Winnie had drawn a map for me, complete with a garden marked by sparkly ink and ominous warnings in red crayon about fairy territory and cursed rocks that must never be moved.
