“Then why’d you tell me you didn’t? Why’d you say you were going to move into his place soon?”
I shrug, uncomfortable. “Let’s go give this flower to the ghost.”
He steps closer, facial muscles tense. “What kind of shampoo does he use?”
“What? Why?”
“Which side of the bed does he sleep on?”
I hesitate, turning and beginning to walk. “Left.”
He keeps pelting questions. “What does his alarm ringtone sound like?”
I speed up my gait. “What’s with the interrogation?”
“What’s with the deflection?”
“I’ve spent all day on this scavenger hunt. I’d like to wrap it up.” I thrust the larkspur at Millicent Halifax, who glares.
“You took a really, really long time,” she tells me stiffly, then picks up her bag of flowers and marches off.
The fifth and final scavenger hunt clue isTake a picture where the town begins. This one’s simple. The town begins at the Moonville tunnel.
I hurry as fast as I can, trying to leave Alex behind. “You’re suddenly very motivated to finish this hunt,” he observes, appearing at my side like an apparition. “Almost as if you’re trying to dodge my questions.”
“Trevor and I aren’t any of your business. Now focus, please. It’s starting to rain.”
I hear a low growl in the base of Alex’s throat. All the tiny hairs on my body stand on end.
I hurry faster.
“Oh, I’m focusing, all right,” he says darkly. “What’s Trevor’s middle name?”
I figure my best bet is to throw him off his guard. “Our physical chemistry more than makes up for a lack of information.”
“More lies.” He seizes my wrist, bringing me toward him, andI’m mesmerized by the heat flare from skin-on-skin contact. I got a good look at those hands earlier when they were busy fondling my plants; they’ve got calluses and at least one scar, which runs from the base of his index finger around to the knuckle of his thumb like a large letter L. I hate that I noticed this. I hate that I’ve been dying to know what it would feel like to be handled by them.
His voice is heavy. Pressurized. “You don’t have any chemistry with him.”
“You don’t know everything, believe it or not.”
His fierce gaze bores into mine. “I know one thing,” he says quietly, breath ghosting over my lips. “I know one thing for absolute certain.”
Our mouths are an inch apart, breathing labored. My heart thunders. I’m dizzy from the smell of sweat and soap and rain, the fresh-cut grass clippings mushed to the soles of our sneakers, and the last time we were this close he probably had a hand up my shirt. His thumb slides an inch down my wrist, pressing a little as if remembering, too. I shiver. He turns my wrist over, exposing the pale underside with its gleaming indentation. I can’t believe he remembers my old injury.
Raindrops fleck his shirt, gliding down his temple, close to the corner of his mouth. I stomp out the urge to lick them, alarms flashing blue and red in my brain.
“What, then?” I hear myself murmur. “What’s the one thing?”
My attention moves from his eyes to the stubble on his jawline, to his throat. I watch his skin respond, goosebumps appearing along his neck, a flush of color rising. I trace a finger down the bumps, flattening them. The movement is wholly involuntary and an instant mistake I can’t bring myself to regret.
Then my hand wraps around his throat. Applies light pressure.
I don’t know what prompted me to do it. I stare at my hand around his tanned neck and he takes a step forward until our fronts graze, his eyelids lowering. He swallows against my palm, skin blazing hot. I’ve definitely touched him before, but not like this. Not with a touch that feels like a word. We never got the chance to try having sex because between my parents, my sisters, and his mom, everybody conspiring to keep an eye on us, we never got any privacy. I would have been fine with a tumble in his truck bed, but Alex insisted our first time had to be special... we waited and waited for that perfect moment that never came.
I let go.
A birdcall filters through the bright red haze pulsing around me, blood slow, thick, and roaring in my ears. It drowns out the river.
