"You shouldn't be here," I say without turning around. I'd know those footsteps anywhere.
"Neither should you." Ryder's voice is low, amused. "Yet here we both are."
I turn. He's leaning against the door, arms crossed, that crooked smile playing at his lips. The overhead fluorescent light should make him look washed out. Instead, it just highlights the sharp line of his jaw, the way his sweater pulls across his shoulders.
"Someone might notice we're both gone," I manage.
"Let them." He pushes off the door, crossing to me in three strides. "I've been watching you all night. Smiling at everyone but me. Laughing at jokes that aren't funny. Staying on the opposite side of the room like we're strangers."
"We agreed—"
"I know what we agreed." His hand finds my hip, thumb tracing small circles that make me forget why staying apart seemed important. "Doesn't mean I like it."
I should step back. Someone could walk in any second. But his other hand cups my face, and I'm leaning into his touch before I can stop myself.
Something flickers in his eyes. Pain, maybe. Or fear. Then his mouth is on mine, stealing thoughts and breath and reason. The kiss tastes like desperation, like borrowed time, like all the words we can't say in public.
Footsteps echo in the hallway.
We break apart. Ryder moves to the sink, running water like he's washing his hands. I grab a box of cocoa mix, clutching it to my chest as the door swings open.
Natalie stops, eyes darting between us. "Oh. Hi."
"Hey." My voice only shakes a little. "Just grabbing more cocoa."
"Right." She doesn't move. "Ryder, Jim was looking for you. Something about the bonfire permits?"
"On it." He dries his hands, walks past me without a glance. But his fingers brush mine as he takes the towel, so quick anyone else would miss it.
I feel it everywhere.
Natalie waits until his footsteps fade. "You two are not as subtle as you think."
My heart stops. "I don't—"
"Relax." She pulls mugs from the cabinet. "I'm not going to say anything. But Lucy? You should tell Connor before he figures it out himself. Trust me."
She leaves me standing there, clutching cocoa mix, my pulse hammering in my throat.
I make it through the rest of the celebration on autopilot. Smile at the right moments. Laugh at the right jokes. Stay far enough away from Ryder that no one could possibly suspect. The celebration ends around ten. We all help clean up—Connor and Ryder carrying tables, me and Natalie collecting trash. Playing our roles. Pretending everything is normal.
"I'll drop these off at the community center," Connor says as we pack the last box into his truck. "You two head back. Tell Dad I'll be there in twenty."
Ryder nods. "Will do."
I turn away before Connor can see my face.
The house is quiet when we get back. Dad's already in his room, light off. Emma and Maisie went to bed an hour ago. Ryder and I exchange a brief glance in the hallway before heading to our separate rooms, maintaining the fiction.
But I don't go to sleep.
I wait until I hear Connor's bedroom door close. Until Maisie's settled in her room. Until the house falls quiet except for the furnace humming and my heart pounding.
Then I slip through the bathroom, knock softly on his door.
He opens it immediately. Like he was waiting.
"Hi," I whisper.
