She glances around. “Where are my parents?”
“At the Hendersons’ for drinks,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “Said they’d be out late.”
Her gaze meets mine, curious and uncertain, and before I can think better of it, I reach out and catch a strand of her hair. It slides through my fingers, cool and silken, and she swallows hard. God help me, I shouldn’t be touching her like this—not when she’s looking at me like that, when I know damn well I want more than what she’s offering.
“Dinner was nice,” she says after a beat, trying to fill the quiet between us.
“Yeah,” I murmur, still twirling the strand, brushing my knuckles lightly against her neck. Her skin breaks out in goose bumps, and something low in my belly tightens.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave so early in the morning for practice,” she says softly.
“Me too,” I admit. “Coach’ll probably work us into the ground since we got a day off.”
“Well, don’t feel like you have to come back for me. My parents can drive me back to campus.”
“You sure?”
She bites her lip and nods, and the silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. I can feel her pulse in the air between us, matching mine beat for beat. She doesn’t realize how hard it is not to reach for her, not to show her how far past friendship I’ve already fallen.
“So,” she says, voice a little too bright, “we could go out if you want? See if any of our old friends are around for the holiday?”
I shake my head slowly, my gaze dropping to her mouth before I can stop it. “I think I’m good.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, breath hitching. “Um, what did you have in mind? We could watch a movie, play cards, or . . .”
I let go of her hair, only to take her hand instead. My fingers slip between hers, and the world seems to narrow to that single point of contact. Her breath shudders out, eyes falling closed, and something in my chest unravels.
We’ve been together before—enough times now that I should be used to this—but tonight feels different. Heavier. Real in a way it hasn’t before. Like whatever line I’ve been toeing is about to disappear for good.
She opens her eyes, and the look she gives me steals every bit of air from my lungs. Her pupils are wide, her lips parted, her pulse fluttering at her throat.
I tug her closer, close enough to smell her shampoo, feel the warmth of her skin through the thin cotton of her shirt.
“I have some ideas,” I murmur, my voice low against her lips.
And then I kiss her.
Chapter 35
TATUM
Something’s changed between us. I can feel it in the way Brandon looks at me, the way silence stretches with unspoken words. We’ve crossed so many lines lately I can’t even see where the boundaries used to be—and yet, somehow, today felt different.Tonightfeels different. Real. Dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with what we’re doing and everything to do with what I’m starting to feel.
Because if this isn’t just comfort anymore—if it’s not just two friends filling the spaces left by other people—then I’m already in trouble.
Because my feelings are starting to go far beyond friendship.
And I’m terrified I’m alone.
His mouth brushes over mine, a careless whisper.
This kiss is different—reverent, unhurried, as if we have allthe time in the world.
The heat of the fire warms my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the blaze igniting within me as Brandon’s hands frame my face, his thumbs tracing the curve of my cheeks with tender precision.
In one fluid motion, he lifts me onto his lap, and I go willingly, my knees bracketing his hips as my fingers thread through his hair. The rain taps harder against the window, nature’s percussion accompanying the symphony of our synchronized heartbeats.
“Tate,” he whispers against my lips, my name a prayer on his tongue.
