There’s a whiff of magic on the air, the subtle shift of summer slipping into winter. A scent of change.
I spot Dylan from afar. He’s easy to find: smack in the center of a group of giggling fangirls. The boy was made to be a star. I wonder if he’s giving away signed photos of himself.
Nah. There’d be a line snaking all the way out into the street.
I think I can see smoke rise out of Tessa’s ears. The girl’s got is so bad it’s almost funny. Fingers crossed I can throw them together tonight, and that they realize they’re both lusting after each other.
“Do you see Zane?” I need his help for my mission. I’m going to play it by ear, see if he has any ideas. I thought of initiating a truth or dare game to get them to kiss, but what if they’d rather tell the truth than kiss? I wouldn’t put it past them. Maybe we’ll have to resort to physical force, and just throw them on top of each other.
I hope Zane is game.
“Nope, haven’t seen him.” But she drags me into the crowd, kids our age standing around, sipping beers and soda and god knows what else. “Let’s get a drink.”
We survey the coolers at the back of the yard and I choose a chilled lemonade. No alcohol for me, dad can smell it a mile away and then I’ll be grounded.
Tessa’s aunt, on the other hand, couldn’t care less, apparently. Tessa grabs a beer and immediately inserts herself into a group of guys from our chemistry class, chatting away.
God, I envy her confidence so much. Though, come to think of it, she becomes so much louder and chattier when Dylan is nearby. Heh.
I wander off to find Zane but still I can’t see him anywhere. After I check the yard, I enter the house. Inside, the music is deafening, and the amount of people jostling each other and weaving between the tables and chairs makes me a tiny bit claustrophobic. I don’t like confined spaces and I can’t seem to step on solid floor; I keep walking on people’s feet.
But I’m on a mission and I won’t back down. I look into each room: the big living room, the kitchen, even the bedrooms and bathrooms. Where is Zane? He’s the one who promised a wild time at this party, isn’t he?
Finally I give up. Maybe he’ll come by later. No Zane, and no Ash. This party sucks already.
Still. My plans won’t be thwarted. I’m going to get Tessa and Dylan together no matter what. I can at least try.
Change of tactic, then. Since I can’t get Zane to somehow drag Dylan out of his circle of admirers for a blind date with Tessa, I’ll have to do it. Doing all the footwork tonight.
But when I step back outside, I can’t see Tessa anymore, and the circle around Dylan is now bigger. Zane was supposed to know what to say to make Dylan get his head out of his ass, or at least out of the fangirl parade, but what am I going to say to him? ‘Hey, leave all these gorgeous girls who want to kiss and paw you and come with me, because there’s another gorgeous girl waiting to do the same? Although she doesn’t know it or accept it? And, oh crap, I can’t see her anywhere. Just wait here, alone, far from the fangirls while I go find her, okay?’
Yeah...
“Audrey!” Rafe strides toward me, running a hand through his mane of blondish hair. His golden eyes are smiling. “You made it.”
“Happy birthday,” I say, forcing myself to stop looking for Tessa. God, if she’s making out with a boy, how am I ever going to get her and Dylan to kiss? “Great party.”
“Thanks.”
“Are your parents out of town, then?” It seems odd, on the day of his birthday.
“Yeah. Actually, my birthday was three days ago.” He grins.
Oh right. “Well, happy belated birthday. Hey, have you seen Zane? Or Tess?”
“I saw Zane just now. He was with Ash.” Rafe gestures at the house. “He just went in.”
There goes my concentration and interest in my mission. “Ash is here?” I snap my mouth shut, because I shouldn’t care, not after the way he’s been acting lately.
“Hey, there’s Tess.” Rafe points to the far end of the garden, at the old oaks and their shifting shadows.
I see a glint of her blond hair, then I see a boy, and I sigh. Maybe it’s already too late. Tessa is plastered all over a tall, long-haired guy. I think he’s a year or two older than us. Crap.
Why is she making this so difficult? Why is she kissing everyone but Dylan? If she’s trying to make him jealous, it doesn’t seem to be working. If anything, it seems to be turning into a competition of who will kiss more people.
For someone like me who’s never kissed anyone—on the mouth that is, pecks on the cheek don’t count—this is inconceivable. Kisses mean something. You don’t hand them over to just anybody. They’re like a question and an answer all at once, a test to which you only put someone you really want.
Maybe I’m the only one who sees it this way?
Rafe turns to receive birthday wishes from a group of girls and boys, and I retreat back toward the house. The thought of Ash draws me like a line with a hook, despite my unease, despite the anger and sadness roiling inside of me. The music changes as I enter through the French doors into the living room, going from punk rock to the soft sounds of a ballad.
Maybe the neighbors are starting to complain, I think, as a small confusion ensues on the dance floor. The jumping and shouting stops and couples begin to form, wrapping their arms around each other and swaying to the music.
I’d better get out of here. But as I turn, I spot Ash and Zane leaning on the far wall, deep in conversation, darks heads bowed together.
Undecided, caught between leaving and staying, I stare at them. An ugly feeling rears its head. I’m jealous of Zane. I’m angry with Ash. Until this summer, Ash used to tell me everything. I am his best friend, not Zane. What’s happening to our friendship? Their conversation seems serious—but why isn’t Ash having it with me?
Zane glances toward me and his dark eyes narrow. Oh crap, he caught me looking. I turn to go, the bottle of lemonade almost slipping from my hand. A girl jostles me and it drops, crashing to the floor a second before I follow, sprawling among the swaying bodies on the dance floor.
Time stops. My head thunks on the floor and I can’t make sense of anything. Colors swirl over my head, lights twinkle.
Then strong hands grab me and lift me to my feet. A face swims in my vision—pale eyes that have gone wide, dark brows, dark mussed hair.
“Auds!” It’s Ash, holding me up, pulling me to his chest. “Are you all right?”
Things still don’t make sense. I let him cradle me so my head rests on his shoulder. He’s breathing hard, as if he’s scared.
“I’m fine,” I manage. The music is a distant background soundtrack to the pulse that goes through my body. Or maybe it’s his heartbeat. I can’t tell.
It feels so good to be pressed against him, to be supported by his muscled arms around my back, to smell his spicy scent. It’s not cologne, I realize. It’s his skin. That’s how Ash smells.
“Are you dizzy?” he asks softly. “Do you want to get out?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
The music plays on, and he doesn’t move. He’s breathing down my neck, warm, ticklish. I want to ask him why he’s been avoiding me, what is going on—but I don’t want to break this perfect moment when he’s acting as if he was afraid for me. As if I’m his whole world.
But then he’s moving, turning so he has one arm around my back, and he’s pulling me so I walk with him. Among the people. Out of the house. I can’t see Zane. Can’t see anything, hyper-aware of his strong arm, his warmth lining one side of my body, the hard body I’m held against.
The fresh air hits my face, clearing some of the haze. I’m walking out of Rafe’s house, in Ash’s arms. Am I dreaming?
He walks me over the lawn, steering me as if I’m blind—and it feels like I am right now, so that if you asked me what I’m seeing I wouldn’t be able to tell you—and around the side of the house. It’s more quiet here; no open windows to let the music and the noise out. It’s also cooler and I shiver.
Ash tugs me closer to his side. “Are you cold?”
I shake my head. We’re walking between the house and the trim hedge separating the property from another. Another oak spreads its branches over our heads, hiding the night sky. The foliage stirs and rustles. A bird flies away.
There’s a small stone bench. Ash stops and pushes me to sit down.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
His pale eyes are concerned, and I want to tell him I just tripped. I crashed into someone and that’s all that happened, but I just nod.
He sits down next to me, dangling his hands between his knees. Moonlight shines through the foliage, casting his face in black and white. The bruise on his jaw seems fainter than it was a few days ago.
I lift my hand to touch it before my mind can tell me no, and he flinches when the stubble scratches at my fingertips.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
He turns to look at me. His eyes are silver in the moonlight. His hand comes to cover mine, pressing it to his cheek. I move my hand upward, where the stubble ends and his skin is smooth and soft. So hot. It scorches my fingers.
He dips his head toward me. “Auds...” The rasp in his voice rolls over me, tightening my skin, making my breath catch.
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. Even seated he’s taller than me. His warm breath washes over me, smelling of something fruity he must have drunk.
I shiver again, and he lets go of my hand to wrap his arms around me. He doesn’t pull me to him like before, though. He keeps staring down at me, and his mouth is barely an inch from mine. It looks soft, so soft.
Why am I so obsessed with his mouth?
But his gaze drops to my lips. Looks like the obsession is mutual. He swallows hard, his throat working—and then he’s kissing me, a firm press of warmth to my mouth.
Oh god, Ash is kissing me, his lips softer than a cloud, warmer than sunlight. Then his hands press into my back, and his mouth moves over mine, sending jolts of pleasure down my spine. My hands rise of their own accord and curl around his neck, fingers tangling in the feather-soft hair there.
Ash makes a tiny sound in my mouth, like a moan, and his hands shift to my sides, making me gasp.
His kiss turns more intense, his lips moving frantically against mine, his tongue tangling with mine, his chest heaving. Our bodies shift closer and closer until there’s no space left between us; until I can feel every breath he takes, every slight shift of his hips.
This kiss... feels so right. Holding him, touching him, tasting him. Something clicks in me, like two parts coming together, a puzzle fitting and revealing a picture. This is so right it makes my chest ache and my eyes burn.
As the realization hits me, I break the kiss to draw a sharp breath.
Ash groans and gazes at me with dazed eyes. He licks his reddened lips and bends so our foreheads touch.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers. “I think I...”
He never finishes the thought. His mouth finds mine once more, and I get this feeling he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing me. Like I’m his favorite dessert; like I’m his favorite place on earth and he wants to stay.
My heart flips over in my chest, missing a beat, because that’s exactly how I’m feeling. I never want this moment to end. I never want his arms to let go.
But a voice calls my name, and lifting my gaze I see someone coming toward us. It’s Dylan.
Ash jerks back, his eyes widening. He curses under his breath and releases me.
Cold rushes in as he stands up, turning toward Dylan. An icy band forms around my heart.
It’s okay, I tell myself. He can’t hold me forever. It doesn’t mean anything is ending. Rather something is beginning. A bad feeling roils in my stomach, though, making me nauseous.
I spot Dylan from afar. He’s easy to find: smack in the center of a group of giggling fangirls. The boy was made to be a star. I wonder if he’s giving away signed photos of himself.
Nah. There’d be a line snaking all the way out into the street.
I think I can see smoke rise out of Tessa’s ears. The girl’s got is so bad it’s almost funny. Fingers crossed I can throw them together tonight, and that they realize they’re both lusting after each other.
“Do you see Zane?” I need his help for my mission. I’m going to play it by ear, see if he has any ideas. I thought of initiating a truth or dare game to get them to kiss, but what if they’d rather tell the truth than kiss? I wouldn’t put it past them. Maybe we’ll have to resort to physical force, and just throw them on top of each other.
I hope Zane is game.
“Nope, haven’t seen him.” But she drags me into the crowd, kids our age standing around, sipping beers and soda and god knows what else. “Let’s get a drink.”
We survey the coolers at the back of the yard and I choose a chilled lemonade. No alcohol for me, dad can smell it a mile away and then I’ll be grounded.
Tessa’s aunt, on the other hand, couldn’t care less, apparently. Tessa grabs a beer and immediately inserts herself into a group of guys from our chemistry class, chatting away.
God, I envy her confidence so much. Though, come to think of it, she becomes so much louder and chattier when Dylan is nearby. Heh.
I wander off to find Zane but still I can’t see him anywhere. After I check the yard, I enter the house. Inside, the music is deafening, and the amount of people jostling each other and weaving between the tables and chairs makes me a tiny bit claustrophobic. I don’t like confined spaces and I can’t seem to step on solid floor; I keep walking on people’s feet.
But I’m on a mission and I won’t back down. I look into each room: the big living room, the kitchen, even the bedrooms and bathrooms. Where is Zane? He’s the one who promised a wild time at this party, isn’t he?
Finally I give up. Maybe he’ll come by later. No Zane, and no Ash. This party sucks already.
Still. My plans won’t be thwarted. I’m going to get Tessa and Dylan together no matter what. I can at least try.
Change of tactic, then. Since I can’t get Zane to somehow drag Dylan out of his circle of admirers for a blind date with Tessa, I’ll have to do it. Doing all the footwork tonight.
But when I step back outside, I can’t see Tessa anymore, and the circle around Dylan is now bigger. Zane was supposed to know what to say to make Dylan get his head out of his ass, or at least out of the fangirl parade, but what am I going to say to him? ‘Hey, leave all these gorgeous girls who want to kiss and paw you and come with me, because there’s another gorgeous girl waiting to do the same? Although she doesn’t know it or accept it? And, oh crap, I can’t see her anywhere. Just wait here, alone, far from the fangirls while I go find her, okay?’
Yeah...
“Audrey!” Rafe strides toward me, running a hand through his mane of blondish hair. His golden eyes are smiling. “You made it.”
“Happy birthday,” I say, forcing myself to stop looking for Tessa. God, if she’s making out with a boy, how am I ever going to get her and Dylan to kiss? “Great party.”
“Thanks.”
“Are your parents out of town, then?” It seems odd, on the day of his birthday.
“Yeah. Actually, my birthday was three days ago.” He grins.
Oh right. “Well, happy belated birthday. Hey, have you seen Zane? Or Tess?”
“I saw Zane just now. He was with Ash.” Rafe gestures at the house. “He just went in.”
There goes my concentration and interest in my mission. “Ash is here?” I snap my mouth shut, because I shouldn’t care, not after the way he’s been acting lately.
“Hey, there’s Tess.” Rafe points to the far end of the garden, at the old oaks and their shifting shadows.
I see a glint of her blond hair, then I see a boy, and I sigh. Maybe it’s already too late. Tessa is plastered all over a tall, long-haired guy. I think he’s a year or two older than us. Crap.
Why is she making this so difficult? Why is she kissing everyone but Dylan? If she’s trying to make him jealous, it doesn’t seem to be working. If anything, it seems to be turning into a competition of who will kiss more people.
For someone like me who’s never kissed anyone—on the mouth that is, pecks on the cheek don’t count—this is inconceivable. Kisses mean something. You don’t hand them over to just anybody. They’re like a question and an answer all at once, a test to which you only put someone you really want.
Maybe I’m the only one who sees it this way?
Rafe turns to receive birthday wishes from a group of girls and boys, and I retreat back toward the house. The thought of Ash draws me like a line with a hook, despite my unease, despite the anger and sadness roiling inside of me. The music changes as I enter through the French doors into the living room, going from punk rock to the soft sounds of a ballad.
Maybe the neighbors are starting to complain, I think, as a small confusion ensues on the dance floor. The jumping and shouting stops and couples begin to form, wrapping their arms around each other and swaying to the music.
I’d better get out of here. But as I turn, I spot Ash and Zane leaning on the far wall, deep in conversation, darks heads bowed together.
Undecided, caught between leaving and staying, I stare at them. An ugly feeling rears its head. I’m jealous of Zane. I’m angry with Ash. Until this summer, Ash used to tell me everything. I am his best friend, not Zane. What’s happening to our friendship? Their conversation seems serious—but why isn’t Ash having it with me?
Zane glances toward me and his dark eyes narrow. Oh crap, he caught me looking. I turn to go, the bottle of lemonade almost slipping from my hand. A girl jostles me and it drops, crashing to the floor a second before I follow, sprawling among the swaying bodies on the dance floor.
Time stops. My head thunks on the floor and I can’t make sense of anything. Colors swirl over my head, lights twinkle.
Then strong hands grab me and lift me to my feet. A face swims in my vision—pale eyes that have gone wide, dark brows, dark mussed hair.
“Auds!” It’s Ash, holding me up, pulling me to his chest. “Are you all right?”
Things still don’t make sense. I let him cradle me so my head rests on his shoulder. He’s breathing hard, as if he’s scared.
“I’m fine,” I manage. The music is a distant background soundtrack to the pulse that goes through my body. Or maybe it’s his heartbeat. I can’t tell.
It feels so good to be pressed against him, to be supported by his muscled arms around my back, to smell his spicy scent. It’s not cologne, I realize. It’s his skin. That’s how Ash smells.
“Are you dizzy?” he asks softly. “Do you want to get out?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
The music plays on, and he doesn’t move. He’s breathing down my neck, warm, ticklish. I want to ask him why he’s been avoiding me, what is going on—but I don’t want to break this perfect moment when he’s acting as if he was afraid for me. As if I’m his whole world.
But then he’s moving, turning so he has one arm around my back, and he’s pulling me so I walk with him. Among the people. Out of the house. I can’t see Zane. Can’t see anything, hyper-aware of his strong arm, his warmth lining one side of my body, the hard body I’m held against.
The fresh air hits my face, clearing some of the haze. I’m walking out of Rafe’s house, in Ash’s arms. Am I dreaming?
He walks me over the lawn, steering me as if I’m blind—and it feels like I am right now, so that if you asked me what I’m seeing I wouldn’t be able to tell you—and around the side of the house. It’s more quiet here; no open windows to let the music and the noise out. It’s also cooler and I shiver.
Ash tugs me closer to his side. “Are you cold?”
I shake my head. We’re walking between the house and the trim hedge separating the property from another. Another oak spreads its branches over our heads, hiding the night sky. The foliage stirs and rustles. A bird flies away.
There’s a small stone bench. Ash stops and pushes me to sit down.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
His pale eyes are concerned, and I want to tell him I just tripped. I crashed into someone and that’s all that happened, but I just nod.
He sits down next to me, dangling his hands between his knees. Moonlight shines through the foliage, casting his face in black and white. The bruise on his jaw seems fainter than it was a few days ago.
I lift my hand to touch it before my mind can tell me no, and he flinches when the stubble scratches at my fingertips.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
He turns to look at me. His eyes are silver in the moonlight. His hand comes to cover mine, pressing it to his cheek. I move my hand upward, where the stubble ends and his skin is smooth and soft. So hot. It scorches my fingers.
He dips his head toward me. “Auds...” The rasp in his voice rolls over me, tightening my skin, making my breath catch.
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. Even seated he’s taller than me. His warm breath washes over me, smelling of something fruity he must have drunk.
I shiver again, and he lets go of my hand to wrap his arms around me. He doesn’t pull me to him like before, though. He keeps staring down at me, and his mouth is barely an inch from mine. It looks soft, so soft.
Why am I so obsessed with his mouth?
But his gaze drops to my lips. Looks like the obsession is mutual. He swallows hard, his throat working—and then he’s kissing me, a firm press of warmth to my mouth.
Oh god, Ash is kissing me, his lips softer than a cloud, warmer than sunlight. Then his hands press into my back, and his mouth moves over mine, sending jolts of pleasure down my spine. My hands rise of their own accord and curl around his neck, fingers tangling in the feather-soft hair there.
Ash makes a tiny sound in my mouth, like a moan, and his hands shift to my sides, making me gasp.
His kiss turns more intense, his lips moving frantically against mine, his tongue tangling with mine, his chest heaving. Our bodies shift closer and closer until there’s no space left between us; until I can feel every breath he takes, every slight shift of his hips.
This kiss... feels so right. Holding him, touching him, tasting him. Something clicks in me, like two parts coming together, a puzzle fitting and revealing a picture. This is so right it makes my chest ache and my eyes burn.
As the realization hits me, I break the kiss to draw a sharp breath.
Ash groans and gazes at me with dazed eyes. He licks his reddened lips and bends so our foreheads touch.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers. “I think I...”
He never finishes the thought. His mouth finds mine once more, and I get this feeling he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing me. Like I’m his favorite dessert; like I’m his favorite place on earth and he wants to stay.
My heart flips over in my chest, missing a beat, because that’s exactly how I’m feeling. I never want this moment to end. I never want his arms to let go.
But a voice calls my name, and lifting my gaze I see someone coming toward us. It’s Dylan.
Ash jerks back, his eyes widening. He curses under his breath and releases me.
Cold rushes in as he stands up, turning toward Dylan. An icy band forms around my heart.
It’s okay, I tell myself. He can’t hold me forever. It doesn’t mean anything is ending. Rather something is beginning. A bad feeling roils in my stomach, though, making me nauseous.
