Page 141 of Wild As Her
But the music picks up, a faster beat now. We move back toward the lawn, hand in hand, though neither of us says a word about it.
Violet appears out of nowhere, breathless and radiant. Her hair’s up in a loose twist, glitter on her collarbone, a champagne flute in one hand and Walker’s flannel tied around her waist. “You two looked like amusic video.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” I murmur.
“Oh, it is,” she says. “The kind where everyone ends up making out on the tailgate.”
Jack coughs. “I’ll let you two talk,” he says, but his fingers trail down my arm before he walks away—just enough touch to make me crazy all over again.
Violet watches him go, then turns back to me. “Girl.”
“I know.”
“No,girl.”
“Iknow,” I groan, fanning myself.
“Do you? Because that man just looked at you like you’re his reason for existing.”
“I’ve seen him look at bacon the same way.”
“Not with that much heat.”
We both dissolve into giggles, champagne sloshing, as Weston walks past with two margaritas and a cowboy hat he definitely did not show up wearing.
“Where did you get that hat?” Violet asks.
He doesn’t even slow down. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
Maggie, now halfway into a red feather boa she absolutely wasn’t wearing before, climbs up on the dock with a plastic microphone and shouts, “Karaoke in ten minutes! Come prepared to sing!”
“She’s drunk on life,” Violet whispers.
“More like drunk on Maggie juice,” I say.
“Same thing, really.”
Poppy and Ollie walk by, flushed and glowing. She’s got her shoes in one hand, and he’s got his jacket slung over her shoulders.
“You okay?” she asks me, tilting her head.
I nod. “Yeah. I think I’m—yeah.”
She gives me a look. ThatI know you better than anyone and you’re definitely lying but I’m not gonna call you onit yetkind of look.
Then: “You’re in it deep, huh?”
I shrug. “I always was.”
Ollie ruffles my hair as they pass. “Don’t overthink it. You deserve a little good.”
And God, wouldn’t it be nice to believe that?
I drift toward the edge of the party, toes curling in the grass. The lights shimmer in the lake’s reflection. A couple little kids are petting a few baby goats, shrieking with laughter. Someone’s set up a s’mores table, and Weston is roasting marshmallows for two very starstruck girls who can’t stop staring at him like he invented cowboy boots.
Elena and Logan are dancing, and I wave to them, and they wave back.
“Some good things came out of the show. Love that Logan and Elena are moving here.”
