Maybe that’s why I relent a little.“Good point.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but then he grabs the broken chair leg and gets ready to go.I look down at the length of plaited elastic in my hand so I don’t have to watch him leave, and then it hits me.What I’ve been making this whole time.
“Hold on.”
He pauses readily, and I try not to read too much into it when I grab hold of the piece of wood in his hand and pull him back to the counter.
I never thought my friendship bracelet skills would come in handy outside of elementary school or to prepare for a concert, but all thatnervous knotting and twisting has resulted in a braid of rubber bands that could make a too-big bracelet, or—
“Here.”I tie one end around the handle of Wes’s handmade weapon, working in a cradle knot to make sure it doesn’t slip out, and then hold my hand out for his.Trying not to be distracted by the warmth of his skin against the pads of my fingers, I make a loop on the other end, then fasten it around his wrist.
“Wh—”
“Cabin in the Woods, The Strangers—” I stop with the examples when I remember he prefers Bullock-fronted films.“They all drop the weapon.This way you won’t drop your… stick.Stake?Shaft?”
“Please don’t call it a shaft.”
“You can adjust it.”I start tightening the bracelet, only looking up to take stock of the leftover materials on the desk.There’s not enough to make another.I probably should have kept it for myself.Self-preservation and all that.But I’m not one to take a gift back.Not to mention he’s going down into the depths of the club while I’m going up to an open, easily accessible (and potentially escapable) level.Even though Wes volunteered for the basement run, I feel like he drew the short straw.
When the bracelet is finally tight enough to reassure me it won’t slip, I look up to see Wes’s mouth splitting into a grin.“How…Howdo you know how to do that?”
I shrug.“I went through a macramé phase, and a friendship bracelet phase, and a—”
“Jamie…”
His voice is soft, low, warm.So warm my mouth goes dry.
“Yeah?”
He pauses a moment, scanning my face.
“Don’t listen to Billie.Laurie’s right.Everything you’ve done tonight… I don’t know how you do it.”He points down to hisweapon wristlet.“Do this.”
That makes me grin.Because having Wes gesture to a shitty friendship bracelet like it’s an Academy Award is incredibly gratifying.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say with a smile.“How do you do it?How do you know how to look out for everyone and keep your cool?”
He stares at me.Hard.More than I would’ve thought the question would warrant, then he seems to find the words.
“It’s just part of who I am.”
And that’s why I’m drawn to him so much.
“Same for me.But we need to test this thing.Drop your weapon.”He lets go of the stake, and it bounces right back up into his palm.I have to stop myself from doing a little clap since there was a very high chance that wouldn’t have worked.
The grin is back on his face.“You’re pretty incredible.”
Okay, that was far more gratifying than his reaction to the bracelet.Why do I feel like I’m the one winning the Oscar now?
“Thank you.”Heat spreads out underneath my collarbone, and I raise a palm to cover it, but it just increases when his eyes drop to watch my movement.
“You’re pretty incredible, too.”I should leave it at that, but the next part is out before I can stop myself.“It’d be incredible if you didn’t die.”
“I’m determined not to.”He grants me that grin again, but then it’s gone just as quick.His expression turns serious, the same look as the one before when it seemed like he wanted to get something off his chest.This time he decides to say it.
“Look, I’m… I’m sorry for how our date ended—”
“It’s okay,” I say—too quickly.Partly because I don’t want to relive the mortification of the final minutes of our date when things—ironically enough given our circumstances—seem to have gottenback to more promising ground.But also because if this is his way of having no regrets in case something does happen downstairs, I don’t want to hear it.
