But Eden’s never been one to let anyone box her in, tilting her face defiantly. “I don’t think so. Look again. It’s pointing at me and Nate.”
Half the circle groans, half cracks up, catching on to her play. Someone leans closer to the bottle. “She’s right, man.”
Another piles on. “Let her have her pick.”
Then a voice from the back, louder, meaner: “She’d rather make out with her math homework than kiss you, Miller.”
Laughter erupts, rolling around, and Max’s smirk curdles hard. “That’s bullshit, and you all know it.”
The circle blurs with noise: laughter, shouts. Eden doesn’t flinch. She leans in, eyes locked on mine. There’s a plea there, and beneath it resolve.
She’s choosing me.
My chest hammers. My first kiss, and it’s the girl I’ve wanted for years. For a heartbeat I freeze, caught between wanting and not daring.
Her lips brush mine. Soft, quick. The barest touch. Enough to blow every fuse I’ve got.
Heat bursts through my chest and the crowd vanishes. My hand finds the back of her head, and I pull her in. My mouth moves against hers, clumsy, hungry, tugging her lower lip. It isn’t the smooth story the older guys brag about. She tastes of strawberry gloss, and when her breath catches, sharp and shaky, I come apart.
I press harder, tongue grazing the seam of her lips, greedy for more. For one impossible second she leans in too. Long enough for the world to tilt and never right itself.
It’s messy. Wet. Wrong, with a whole circle of kids hooting.
It’s also the only thing that has ever felt exactly, perfectly right.
She pulls back at last, slow and reluctant. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips slick. She ducks into her friends and laughs it off as if it were just another dare.
But I can’t laugh. My heart is pumping, my whole body wired. And when I glance up, Leo’s eyes are on me, furious. He saw what I couldn’t hide.
The kids holler louder, jeering, riding the awkward thrill of it.
Max’s smirk twists mean. “Guess Carverette likes it sloppy. Or maybe she just likes her boys dark and broody.”
The group stumbles quiet for a beat, laughter choking off. A couple kids glance away, uncomfortable. One mutters, “Not cool, man.”
But Max only shrugs, his grin sour. His expression goes cold and calculating. Across the flames, Leo’s stare is on me, assessing. Eden huddles deeper into her friends.
I sit there, chest on fire, every nerve humming. Because it may have started as her wanting an out, but I know the truth: she wanted to kiss me.
By the time the flames die, most kids have peeled off. Eden drifts away with her friends, braid swinging, their laughter easy. The walk back to the house is silent. Leo’s fists jammed in his pockets, my head still buzzing from the firelight and Eden’s taste.
When we hit the porch, Ryan’s there, wearing his restaurant polo, slouched with a soda, dead on his feet. He clocks our faces immediately.
“What the hell’s wrong with you two?”
Leo doesn’t hesitate. “Nate kissed Eden on the beach.”
Ryan barks a laugh, tired and sharp. “Jesus Christ. Knew that was gonna happen eventually.”
“Stop egging him on,” Leo snarls.
“It wasn’t like that,” I snap. “Max has a thing for Eden and he rigged Spin the Bottle. She kissed me instead.”
That kills Ryan’s humor. He straightens, eyes narrowing. “Are you out of your goddamn minds? What the hell was she doing anywhere near that?”
“Max started it,” I grit out. “Spun it straight at her. She wasn’t having it.”
Ryan’s jaw ticks. Leo’s still bristling, fists balled. “Doesn’t matter. She’s fifteen. Nate shouldn’t?—”
