Determined to face whatever consequences Gorilla Bush Thatch doles out, I head for the door on quick feet with nothing more than a muttered expletive over my shoulder.
I’m surprised when Blake jumps in front of me and blocks me—surprised and fucking pissed.
“Get out of my way, superstar. I’m not staying.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, dude. No can do. Turn around.”
When I don’t comply, he puts his hands on me and makes me, and a rage boils so quickly I’m practically a scientific marvel.
And then Julia appears from the crowd. But she looks like a fucking fever dream. Tight leather pants. Black heels. Curled hair. Red lips. Smoky eye.
I blink. My brain malfunctions. “Julia?”
Blake or some other bastard pats my shoulder from behind, and I gulp and gawk at the sight of my best friend—the love of my life—embodying aGrease-inspired Sandy in front of me.
She smirks and pretends to take a long drag off a fake cigarette, then flicks it to the floor and stomps it out with the toe of her shoe. “Tell me about it, stud.”
My heart relocates to my throat and my excitement to my balls as Julia steps right up to me smelling like strawberry lip gloss and every single good memory I’ve ever had. She is heaven and home all wrapped up into one gorgeous package.
And then—without warning—she kisses me.
Hands in my hair, lips on mine, completely, absolutely,Juliakisses me.
I don’t think. I don’t even know if I’m breathing, but I do know I’m kissing her back. I grab her waist and pull her closer. The crowd around us might as well not exist. All I can focus on is the tasteof her mouth and the thundering of my pulse and the voice in my head screaming finally, finally,finally.
And when we part, her eyes flick up to mine like I’m the answer she’s been searching for.
“Can I tell you a secret that I don’t want to be a secret anymore?”
I stare at her. My voice cracks when I finally speak. “Anything.”
“You smell horrible for the first time ever.”
Julia
“But bad smell and all, I’m in love with you, Ace.”
Ace blinks at me. Rapidly and repeatedly, like he’s trying to reboot.
The flickering orange lights from the jack-o’-lantern string above us catch the gold flecks in his eyes, and I swear to God, my heart is going to punch a hole through my chest.
For half a second, I panic, and my skin heats like I’ve been dropped under a spotlight. The silence is scary.
But then, he steps forward. His movements are slow and deliberate, like the rest of the party has gone quiet—even though it hasn’t. It’s still loud and wild, and someone’s screaming along to a Pitbull remix in the corner. There are body shots happening on the kitchen counter.
But Ace is only looking at me, and all my doubt flies through the window like a guy dressed as Zorro did an hour ago.
He brings his hands up, framing my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. His eyes scan over me—Sandy wig, red lips, tight black outfit that suddenly feels like it might combust under the heat of his stare.
“I guess the letterman sweater makes sense now,” he murmurs.
I huff a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry for all the bullshit I’ve tossed your way.” He lowers his voice, steady and serious.
“I know you are,” I whisper. “And I’m sorry too. Ididn’t handle things right either. I should’ve never dated Drew when, deep down, I knew I had feelings for you.”
“You’re not with Drew anymore?”
