"So far it's meh." I shrug. "Your doomsday predictions are off."
But just as I say it, the stars tilt, the time starts turning rubbery, a slow dissolve as the walls in my chest start to crumble, and suddenly, Ben isn't just next to me—he's there. In Technicolor.
The rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers drum against his thigh, the crease in his forehead that says he's overthinking even when he swears he doesn't.
Whatever he's made of is pouring through his skin, bleeding into me, and I can't look away. I don't want to.
15
"You know you've been staring at me and giggling for five minutes." His thumbs brush along my temples as he checks my pupils.
I frown. Did I slip through a crack in time? Damn, this thing is strong.
"Should I be concerned or flattered?" he asks, half-amused, half-concerned.
"Flattered. Definitely flattered. You're a beautiful rainbow,” I say, painting shapes with my hand over his torso. "But mostly blue and magenta, especially around your heart. Your head's mostly yellow."
He blinks, then huffs a laugh, rechecking my eyes. "Goddamn it. What did my sister give you?"
We're still buried in the cushions, half-sunk into the sand, tucked a little away from everyone who's going wild at the party. Mara and Paul are nowhere to be seen.
"Let's dance." I get up abruptly. The music swells into EDM now—hypnotic. No, erotic. Every thump pressing against my ribs, whispering touch me, and I want us swallowed by it.
Ben pulls his brows together, thrown off, but then rises. "Fair warning. I've been practicing new moves."
His hands flash behind his head, hips unapologetically rolling forward like he's auditioning for a gigolo gig.
I roll my eyes, biting back my grin. "Is this what happens when I leave you unsupervised?"
"We've always danced badly. That's the magic," he says, miming a scoop at some invisible booty.
I burst out laughing and swing my hips in a fluid motion. "Speak for yourself. I've always been sensual."
One brow arcs up. "Sensual? Is that what we're calling your 'falling sideways while holding a wine glass' era?"
"It wasn't a fall," I snap, but it comes out playful. "I surrendered to gravity. Huge difference."
"Right." He smiles and steps closer, his hand landing on my hip. "Huge difference."
"Hey! Wanna play Naked Twister with us?"
The interruption floats in like sweet perfume—three girls in nothing but fearless skin and chrome sequins, breasts perkier than mine have ever dared to be. The kind of beauty that makes you want to sue Mother Nature for favoritism.
My high dips instantly, especially when Ben's gaze skims over their bodies while they stand there tempting him.
I know, I know… this place is for sharing, maybe even bodies, and I shouldn't be jealous because he isn't even mine—but that selfish scorch in my stomach? It doesn't share. Not his body.
Nothim.
My hands twitch to claw him back, but I don't have to because his eyes settle only on me.
"What do you say, Miss Prude? Want me to make this night… interesting?"
My pulse spikes, but my face does the exact opposite. I roll my eyes. "Why are you asking me? Go ahead. Do whatever."
Something dark flickers in his eyes. "Do whatever? Trust me, you shouldn't give me that option."
"Yeah," I bite, annoyed at him for no reason. "It's your thing."
