Except it didn’t feel like that at all.
The moment my fingertips made contact, something shifted. The air between us went still and heavy, like the pause before a storm breaks. Jacks’s breath caught—I heard it, soft but unmistakable—and his whole body went rigid against the car.
I froze, my hand still raised, fingers still pressed to his skin.
Jacks was staring at me, his eyes wide, unreadable, fixed on my face with an intensity that made my whole body shiver.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched, elastic and terrible, filled with something I couldn’t name and didn’t understand. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. Hell, I was sure Rosa heard it from around the block.
Every nerve in my body had lit up like a switchboard, screaming signals I didn’t know how to interpret.
I dropped my hand like it had been burned.
“Well,” I heard myself say, my voice too loud, too bright, completely disconnected from whatever was happening inside me. “This was great. Gotta go work out and stuff. You know. Game tonight. All that.”
I was already stepping back, already putting distance between us, already moving toward the main street where my car was parked in a public lot like a normal person who hadn’t just done something inexplicable.
“Yeah,” Jacks said. His voice sounded strange and rough. “Yeah, totally. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll, uh . . . I’ll text you.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
I turned and walked away, forcing myself not to run or look back, not to think about what had happened. My legs felt unsteady, like I’d just finished a triple-overtime game. My hand—the one that had touched his hair, his skin, his face—tingled like I’d stuck it in an electrical socket.
As I reached the corner where I’d turn and move from view, I glanced back over my shoulder. Jacks was still leaning against his car, his eyes still wide—still staring at me.
Chapter 15
Jacks
Three days.
It had been three days since the Taco Bus, and I still couldn’t get my brain to shut up about it. The whole afternoon kept replaying on a loop—the ridiculous bus-restaurant that had made Skyler light up like a kid on Christmas, Rosa’s knowing wink, and the easy flow of conversation that made hours feel like minutes. All of it was stuck in my head like that stupid Kars4Kids jingle I could never shake.
But mostly, I kept coming back to the moment under the oak tree leaning against my car.
The wind catching my hair.
Skyler’s hand reaching up without hesitation.
His fingers brushing my forehead, gentle and warm, sweeping the curls from my face like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And then—
The freeze.
Both of us going still like some terrified animal whose wide eyes couldn’t release oncoming headlights long enough to run to safety. The air between us had gone thick and charged, filled with a tension I couldn’t name but felt in every nerve ending.
Then he bolted.
And not in with the swagger of a player who played for the Bolts.
Oh, no. He didn’t strut away. He didn’t walk or stride. He fucking bolted, stammering something about workouts and games while sprinting toward the main street like the oak tree had caught fire.
