“What’s going on?” they ask together.
“What’s the plan?” I cross my arms.
Their wide eyes give them away instantly. No idea what their plan was, but their guilt is entertaining. Before I can push, Sam grabs Nova with one hand and me with the other. “You should dance. That’s the plan!”
“What? Dance? But—”
He shoves us onto the dance floor, abandoning us among the swaying bodies. Then the music shifts. The bass drops out, replaced by a soft piano, as if water itself were flowing through the speakers.
Nova flushes. Her fingers lace behind my neck, hesitant but sure. “It’sTurning Page... by Sleeping at Last. We... we don’t have to dance.”
She tells me the title of the song as if I don’t know that song by heart. As if every note doesn’t burn me alive. My arms move before I think, circling her hips, pulling her against me and she climbs onto my shoes so she can reach me better.
“We should totally dance,” I whisper with a small smile.
Her eyes flicker with light. “Should we?”
“Yeah... I think we should.”
Her lips curve into something soft, fragile, and she tightens her hold on me. I glance past her, toward our friends.
Maggie and Sam watch us while sipping their drinks, and Steven’s focused on talking with Will and Aurora. He didn’t say anything when Sam dragged us onto the dance floor, and I doubt he said a word when he deliberately switched the song, either.
He looks so calm—and that’s only because he trusts us.
He knows I’d never stab him in the back, and he sees nothing between me and Nova that isn’t purely platonic.
But the heat running under my skin tells a different story. I can’t look into her eyes, not now, because if I do I’ll only think about kissing her.
“Everything okay?” she whispers.
I nod, drawing her closer. She melts against me, her grip tightening as if she doesn’t want to let go. “Yeah.”
“You’re sure? We can talk.”
Her finger traces the shape of a star on the back of my neck. The touch sends a shiver racing down my spine, my hands trembling. She feels too precious, too untouchable for someone like me. Then, just like that, she looks away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Too quick. She’s lying.
I sigh and tip her chin up with my hand, brushing her flushed cheek with my knuckles. “You can talk to me. I’ll never judge you.”
She hesitates, silence stretching long. “This moment reminds me...” She falters, eyes fixed on my shirt.
I could let it slide. But I’m done running. “That night?” I press gently.
“Yes... I...”
“You?”
She exhales. “I think about it all the time.”
My heart somersaults. “Me too.”
Our eyes drop to each other’s lips and I can’t stop staring at the shape of her mouth.
“Enough,” she murmurs, her gaze tracing my lips and then lingering on the bob of my Adam’s apple.
