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Coming back to her face, to her even bluer eyes, I tell her, “You make it impossible to look away, Silver.”

“At least try when Guy’s around.”

“That’s half the fun.”

“You’re just looking for a fight?”

I can’t help the smirk pulling at my lips when I say, “Always.”

She storms away with a critical headshake of her own.

“But that’s not why I do it!” I try yelling after her but she isn’t listening.

“Fuck,” I growl. I said half the fun, and even that’s an exaggeration.

I’ve seen the ocean in the morning, the old couple on the bench, the woods filled with fog, the high-rises piercing the sky, the baby’s infectious smile, the horizon at sunset, and not one of those heart-stopping, breathtaking experiences compares to how I feel when I look at Kota.

I don’t stare at her because I can. I stare at her because I know there’s nothing else worth looking at if I couldn’t.

And one of these days, I won’t be able to.

Since today isn’t that day, I grab an armful of wood and return to the fuck-ass bonfire to get my fill of her while I can.

The entire time I reconstruct the fire, Kota avoids my general direction, laughing with those same girls from earlier.

Guy steals glances at her every now and then but keeps his own audience raptured.

I don’t know what he can talk about for so long. Probably himself.

“You’re pretty good with that wood,” Dex points out with a shit-eating grin.

Standing, I grab my junk, and tell him, “Had plenty of practice.”

The only actual wood I’ve ever handled was when I got jumped and one of the guys was beating me with a two-by-four. Until I got my hands on it and ripped it out of his grip, then I was the one fucking everybody up. That was a couple years back now.

While Dex laughs at my crude gesture, his sister groans.

“I don’t even like having one brother. How did I end up gaining a second?”

Tina’s question reopens the case of whose fault I am and the two jump right back into their finger-pointing. I’d be offended if I didn’t know they both love me like a brother.

Which is another thing I’ll have to give up one day.

Not today, I remind myself as I study the roaring fire. The blaze is still smoking like crazy but the flames are over five feet tall now, so it’s a huge improvement.

I built that.

I interrupt the pointless bickering—they’re both to blame—by asking Dex, “Why is it smoking so much?”

“So you’re not that good with your wood.”

“I’m serious. What’d I do wrong? It’s my first time building a fire.” And I want to make sure Kota can roast a marshmallow, or several, on it.

He eyes it for a minute, then shrugs and says, “Beats me.”

A guy standing close to us says, “The wood must’ve been green.”

I think back to the logs I grabbed, not even sure who put them there. Or when.