She waves an arm at the bridal party. “You actually considered it, didn’t you? That girl?”
A deep furrow forms between her brows. Something’s wrong. I’ve done something, but... what?
“No,” I say. Why does it sound like a question? “She came on to me. I hesitated.”
She swallows and glances back at Tori. “Do you want to go talk to her?”
“No.” The gnawing in my gut returns at her suspicious expression. “You told her I’m not single. Hitting on her now... That’s not a great look.”
“Shit.” Her hand hides her eyes. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Silence passes between us.
What... What’s this tiny seed of hope sprouting inside? Stop it! Stahp.
Efffff. Why can’t I stop it?
I pull her hand from her face. Her gaze is wary. Defensive. She’s close enough that I can divide her into individual parts, a bevy of precious metals and gems. Rays of copper and gold in her irises. The onyx pen strokes of her lashes. The gleam of platinum in her hair. The shimmer of her ruby lips.
So beautiful. Right here in front of me, yet so distant. She’s like a star. Glittering from afar, cold, but if she’d just let me closer, I know I’d burn. Something is mutating between us, despite her attempts to stop it. Surely, she senses it, too. Am I the only one falling?
“Jocelyn.” I brush my finger beneath her chin. “Are you jealous?”
A false smile stretches her red lips but doesn’t touch her eyes. A strained laugh flies from her mouth. “What— What are you even... What are you talking about? Of course not.”
The longer I stare at her face, the more convinced I am. “You sure?”
“We’re just friends, Asher.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” Wanting free, the truth jackhammers against its cage. My blood spikes with a fresh shot of adrenaline as I give in to it. “But I kind of think you know I’d take more if you’d give it.”
Her lips part, and she freezes. Doe eyes go impossibly wide as if a Mack truck heads straight for her.
Uh-oh.
No.
Shit.
Wait. I take it back.
She shakes her head. Takes one step away.
“Joss—”
Delicate, gold-tipped fingers press into the skin over her heart. She checks behind her.
“Joss, wait—”
Her hand rises in a sharp gesture to stop, and my voice dies. Time suspends. The room goes silent around us. Or maybe I’m about to pass out.
In one swirl of gold and glitter, the twinkling star falls, and she shoots toward the exit.
Away from me.
The tiny seedling of hope—that warm, happy, WALL-E quality leaf—curls up and withers in the face of another rejection.
Whatever is left in my chest follows suit.
