The realization slams into me like a second heartbeat.
HAYES… IS ON TOP… OF ME.
Warmth radiates between us. His hair, just a little too long, brushes my cheek. Our bodies touch, lightly, but it’s enough to send a current skimming across my nerves. Sharp and electric. Like we could set something on fire if either of us moved even a fraction. One shift closer and we’ll both ignite.
I tilt my face toward him, slowly, like I’m drifting forward without meaning to.
He does the same.
My pulse races like a jet plane, not just from adrenaline, but from something deeper. Hungrier. My eyes fix on his mouth—those full lips, so close now, I can almost feel them on mine. If I moved just an inch closer… would he stop me?
Would he kiss me?
“Al. I really need you tonight.”
His eyes are darker now. And hot. Molten hot. The blue is so deep it almost bruises violet at the edges.
Why does he have to look at me like that?
And why, oh why, does my body betray me every single time he’s near?
NO. NO. NO.
Must stop fantasizing about my best friend.
Right. Now.
I tear my gaze away, fixating instead on a random spot above his left ear. The flickering light from the screen dances across his skin, golden and soft, too perfect to be real.
“Is it because of Amber?” he asks, watching me carefully. “Is that why you don’t want to come?”
I stiffen. Just the mention of her name is enough to set my jaw.
“No.”
I try to sound casual, like it’s not a big deal. Like I hadn’t immediately thought of Amber the second he told me about the party.
Because of course she’ll be there.
Whether or not they’re technically back together, there’s no way my sister would miss tonight. And I’d rather not subject myself to Amber—or her flock of loyal minions—if I can help it.
“You know you’re going to have to forgive her eventually, right?” he asks. “She is your sister.”
“So you are inviting her,” I say, too sharp, too accusing.
“Of course I am. But you can’t skip out on me just because she’s coming.”
I can see the flicker of something behind his eyes—regret, maybe. Or disappointment.
“It’s not about her.” I force my body to move. To untangle and stand. “I just… don’t want to go.”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s not!”
I sink back onto the couch, tucking my legsunderneath me as the dog curls up beside me again. Reaching for the popcorn, I shove a few kernels into my mouth, trying to come up with some excuse—anything—that sounds believable.
“I mean, we both know your parents would flip if they knew you were throwing a party,” I say, forcing a shrug. “Maybe you don’t care, but I do. I love them and want to stay on their good side.”
