“Good evening,” she announces to no one in particular.
“It was,” I agree.
“The ribs were great.”
“So was the company.”
A flush creeps up her neck.
She looks at me from the corner of her eye with that smile she’s had since beer number two. It’s this easy, genuinely happy version. I’ve been cataloging the different versions of her smile all week. It’s a hobby that is rapidly becoming a problem.
The road between Terry’s and the motel is about forty yards of gravel and bad yellow streetlights. We cross it with a smalldistance between us. I keep it there on purpose. Lately, it’s taking more effort, and it’s working less and less.
She stops at the door of our room, leaning back against it with her head tipped up toward me. There’s barbecue sauce on her shirt, her cheeks are flushed from dancing, and her hair has fallen out of whatever tie she had in.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
“Tonight was fun,” she says quietly and steps closer. Too close. She smells like beer and warm skin, and a little like the shampoo from that motel shower she used earlier.
My pulse spikes.
Her fingers brush mine, and something tightens low in my stomach.
“Griffin.” My name, coming from her like that, feels like a hand sliding around the back of my neck.
I need distance. Anything. A fire alarm. A fucking sinkhole.
“Let’s—uh—get inside,” I say.
She nods and pushes off the wall.
The room is dim, but the lamp casts a warm glow across both beds.
The door clicks shut behind us.
She turns to face me and everything in me locks up.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, her lips are parted, and she’s looking at me like she’s seeing every thought I’m holding back.
“Griffin,” she says again, softer this time. “Thank you for tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” I manage, though my throat is dry.
She steps closer.
I step… nowhere.
Because for the first time since she ran out of that church, I have absolutely no control.
She reaches out and smooths my collar. It’s just a small brush of her fingers. Completely innocent.
Except it isn’t. Not when I feel it everywhere.
“Piper,” I warn.
She tilts her head. “What?”
I don’t know who moves first.
