“You have your moments.” Before he can make any further observations, I spin on my heel and start back up the slope. My sneaker lands on a loose rock and skitters out from under me. I start to plummet toward the ground, but an arm wraps around my waist and catches me. The air whooshes from my lungs and tears spring to my eyes as I gasp for breath.
“Careful.” He rubs a hand down my back. “I’ve got you.”
I straighten, but when I expect him to release me, he doesn’t. His gaze burns into mine, uncharacteristically serious.
“I mean it, Harls. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”
Blinking rapidly, I tell myself it’s a result of being winded and not because of the sudden punch of emotion in my gut.
“I believe you,” I whisper, even as the voice in the back of my head screams that I’m a fool whose world is about to implode all over again. Screw the voice. It doesn’t control me.
My lips meet his in something that goes beyond a kiss. It’s a collision—of our lips, and our hearts, each beating wildly against the other. Our very souls.
Someone coughs behind us and we break apart.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a woman says, her cheeks red as she looks anywhere except at us. She and her companion, an older guy with hiking poles, stand behind us, their path clearly blocked. His gaze is fixed on Devon.
“Say, are you that MMA fighter?” He seems to rack his mind for a name. “Devon Green.” He holds up a finger. “DangerousDevon Green.”
Devon’s face lights up. “I am indeed. This is my girlfriend, Harley Isles.”
It’s the first time we’ve told anyone, and electricity zaps across my skin, shocking me with how much I like it.
“Do you mind if we get a photo?” the guy asks, digging his cell phone from his pocket.
“Not at all.”
The woman takes it from him, and I step aside, certain he doesn’t want me in the shot since Devon is the one who’s famous, but he gestures for me to stand on his other side. I hesitate, knowing there’s a chance this photo could end up all over social media by nightfall. Seth might see it. But then I straighten my back and join them. Seth is my family, but Devon means more to me with each passing day, and he needs this. Needs to know I’m willing to stand beside him. That I’m proud to be with him.
The corners of his eyes crinkle as the lady snaps the pictures, and then we break apart so the man can check them.
“Thanks so much,” he says, pumping Devon’s hand and then smiling at me. “You’ve made my day.” He glances at his companion. “We’ll leave you in peace now.” He winks knowingly. “Enjoy yourselves, but not too much.”
“Oh, we will,” Devon assures him, and I snort-laugh at the barely concealed innuendo.
The couple continue, and Devon and I exchange a look. My cheeks are flushed from being caught making out with a boy in a public place. I can’t help but flashback to when I was fifteen and Mom turned on the porch light just as Peter Sutton and I were getting to second base.Cringe.
On the other hand, Devon is eyeing me in a way that suggests all kind of activities not appropriate for the location.
I gesture toward the trail. “We should probably…”
“Yeah.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Save the other stuff for later.” He offers me his other hand, and I intertwine my fingers with his. “Let’s go, girlfriend.”
The rest of the day is a blur of small talk and camaraderie. Devon is good company, and when we return to the city, I can’t help feeling disappointed that our afternoon has come to an end. Strangely, I’m looking forward to telling our friends about us because it means we can have more days like this one, and that sounds pretty perfect. As long as Seth doesn’t rip the ground out from under me.
ChapterSixteen
Devon
“Hey, Dev, you got a minute?” Seth calls as I enter the gym on Monday morning.
My stomach clenches, my instincts screaming that he’s seen the photo that guy from yesterday posted online and has learned the truth about Harley and me before we had a chance to break the news gently. But then he throws me a relaxed smile and my heart starts beating again. It’s on the tip of my tongue to blurt out the truth and get it off my chest, but I promised Harley I’d let her speak to him first.
“Got some good news,” he says.
“What’s that?” I should be relieved but there’s this slimy sensation in the pit of my gut that hates maintaining the charade for even a minute longer.
“You’ve been offered a fight on the Nightshade card.”
