“She must be special,” Blake murmurs. “I’ve never seen the guy this…vulnerable. Shy, almost.”
“She is. They have been together since we were fourteen, I think? Inseparable. If she went to college with us as planned I’m convinced they would have eloped by now. Me and Lis have a bet going that it’ll happen, Dad’s in on it.” I pluck the marshmallow from my stick and tear it apart for us to share, almost burning my fingertips in the process.
“He loves her.” Blake’s words are a statement, not a question. Anyone who can see knows what it is between them, though love might even be an understatement for what they have. It’s adorable and disgusting and, if it’s anything like what I feel for Blake, addicting and irresistible.
I stuff my face with sticky marshmallow fluff. “Very much so, yes.”
Blake’s hands, resting on my hips, snake to my stomach before pulling me tight against him. His lips brush my cheek as he whispers, “I know the feeling.”
“Me too, Blakey-bear,” I say, my eyes flitting to his lips. A roguish grin spreads on his face before he leans in and claims me with a kiss. The marshmallow left a sticky residue and I graze my teeth over his lips to claim every bit of the sweetness, feeling the effect right beneath my core.
It takes a lot of willpower not to drag him to my bedroom to show me exactly what he’s feeling.
“Lexie!” A high shriek comes from my side and I barely have time to tear myself off Blake’s sticky lips before Lottie throws her arms around my neck. “I missed you! Is this him? It is, isn’t it? Wow, you weren’t lying.”
You might think she’s drunk, and you might even be right. But alcohol or not Lottie has always been this way—loud, bold, and honest to a fault. It’s part of why we work so well; Lottie has no problem saying everything I’m not bold enough to say.
Blake smirks. “More gossip, Sunshine? You know, one of these days you have to share what you’re telling these people lest I disappoint them.”
Lottie laughs. “Oh, she just told me you’re a handsome nerd whom she can’t keep her hands off of.”
Classic Lottie.
My cheeks are burning and I shoot her a look that says to stop talking, but she merely snuggles closer with a smile.
Blake extends his hand, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the movement. The sight has me biting my lip; arms and forearms are kind of my thing. “I’m Blake. A pleasure to meet you, Charlotte.”
“Likewise! I have to go find Alissa but I will see you two later—much to discuss.” Lottie makes a gesture that saysI’mwatchingyoubefore taking my brother’s hand and dragging him deeper into the garden.
The music changes to a 00’s banger and loud cheers erupt among our friends as they crowd to dance and sing along. I make a mental note that we should send a box of chocolates to our neighbors as an apology for the noise.
“May I have this dance?” Blake asks, and I can’t help but smile as I rise from his lap.
I take him by the hand, leading him to the unofficial dance floor. “You may.”
The warmth of the dance floor takes me by surprise. Not just the physical warmth—though that too—but how everyone cheers as we join them, welcoming us with hugs and smiles. These are Alissa and Levi’s friends, mostly, and I don’t remember spending much time with any of them.
I saw them often, sure; I used to follow my siblings around and read while they did sports or hangouts. But I don’t think I ever had any real conversations with these people, so why are they so kind to me now?
Must be the alcohol.
I should have paid more attention in that dance class, as the best moves I have to show are the backpack kid dance and a routine from the secondMamma Miamovie. Either way, Blake doesn’t seem horrified, so I must be doing something right.
The snow picks up again, harder this time, and I bury myself in Blake’s arms to ward off the cold. It doesn’t work.
“Let’s go inside,” he whispers in my ear, and I have never heard anything sexier.
The sitting and dining rooms are filled with drunks and couples making out, so I lead Blake up the stairs to my room. I used to share one with Alissa, but when our parents redid the loft space and an extra room popped up, Alissa claimed it at once. All the better; her trophies were starting to bum me out.
Blake closes the door behind him, and the room shrinks three sizes. Even on opposite ends of the room we are close, so close. I want to kiss him, touch him, feel his hands on my skin and have my name on his lips. But I don’t move.
He peruses my bookshelves, the used books smelling heavenly of decaying paper, his finger touching the spines as he goes. I drop down on my bed, pulling my knees up to my chest.
The music from the garden is so loud it might as well come from my speaker, but I’m grateful for it. I focus on the steady rhythm of the bass line to keep me afloat, grounding me in the moment as I work up the courage to ask what I’ve been wanting to ask for weeks now.
“I want you to teach me how to fight.”
Blake turns to face me, his surprise written all over his features. “To fight? Why?”
