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Heat gathers beneath my sweater until the fabric suddenly feels like too much against my skin. I tug the neckline farther off my shoulder, letting the cool night air brush across the exposed skin.

That’s better.

The bass feels different now too, vibrating through my bones with every beat and settling somewhere low in my stomach. Maybe everyone else feels it because the crowd seems looser than before, bodies moving closer as hands settle on hips and mouths brush against ears.

Nothing obscene. Nothing I haven’t seen a hundred times in a club.

Tonight, it just feels like more.

My attention catches on a couple kissing beside the bonfire and stays there. The woman fists the front of the man’s shirt and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss as firelight flickers across them.

Heat rushes through me again, so sudden and intense that I tear my gaze away.

Jesus.

Maybe Bride’s blood is ninety percent tequila.

“I’m getting water.” I try to shout over the music.

Mariah cups her ear. “What?”

“WATER.”

She gives me a thumbs-up and immediately disappears back into the crowd.

Ali has wandered toward the bathrooms.

Perfect.

Abandoned by everyone I love.

I make my way toward the bar and someone catches my wrist.

I spin and see it’s the tall guy from the maze.

My heart does an irritating little jump.

He’s not wearing the mask. For a second, I don’t recognize him but then I see his eyes. Dark… almost black in the firelight. The same eyes that watched me over the dinner tables. The hot guy from earlier.

“Oh.”

Well. That’s unfair. He’s even better looking without the mask. Dark hair. Strong jaw. A mouth that looks like it doesn’t smile nearly enough. The kind of face that probably makes women make terrible decisions and then blame astrology.

“You.”

His hand is around my wrist. Not tight. But he’s staring at the ribbon again.

I pull once and he releases me. “Do you have some sort of ribbon fetish?”

“No.” He says. His voice surprises me. It’s deep and rough.

So he can fucking talk.

My brows shoot up. “Oh my God.” I say “You have words.”

He looks at me with a confused expression, the little divot between his brows giving him away.

“You spent twenty minutes in that maze communicating like a haunted mime.”