Page 51 of Afterburn


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Or so I thought.

Knox’s raised eyebrows here and there make me question it. And Noah? He has this shit-eating grin sometimes, like he knows something but isn’t about to call it out—yet.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because when I sneak into Ash’s room, when his hands find my waist, and when the door clicks shut behind me—it is like the whole damn world fades away.

We are fire and gasoline, and I am nowhere near ready to put it out.

Me: Hey, you free?

Nesta: For you? Always! What’s up?

I flop onto my bed,phone in hand, still feeling the ghost of Ash’s lips on mine from earlier. I can’t help the grin that tugs at my mouth. Dangerous, I think, but god, it is addictive.

Me: So… things with Ash are… progressing.

Nesta: Oooooh. That sounds juicy. Spill.

I bite my lip, debating how much to say. Nesta is my best friend, but this thing with Ash—it is still delicate, still wrapped in that secret bubble we’ve somehow kept intact.

Me: It’s good. Great. Like, “I’m smiling for no reason,” good.

Nesta: Girl, I KNEW IT. I could see the tension the last time we all hung out. You two were practically vibrating.

I laugh out loud. She isn’t wrong.

Me: It’s just… complicated, you know? We’re keeping it quiet for now. Don’t need the extra drama.

Nesta: Understandable. But also, SO unfair to me. I need DETAILS. Is he as good as he looks?

Heat flushes my cheeks. Ash has this way of looking at me like I am the only person in the room, like he knows exactly what I need before I even ask.

Me: Let’s just say… he doesn’t disappoint.

Nesta: I. Freaking. KNEW IT.

Nesta: But seriously, you happy?

I pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This is what matters. After what happened with Preston, she knows I keep my heart closed off, so if I’ve let someone in, it’s a big deal.

Me: Yeah. I really am.

There is a beat before her reply comes through.

Nesta: Then that’s all that counts. But when the secret’s out? I want a front row seat.

I laugh again, my heart feeling a little lighter.

Me: Deal.

The smell of charcoal and something slightly burning drifts through my backyard, mixing with the sound of music playing low from the speaker Ash has set up. The sun is still hanging high, golden and warm, painting everything in that lazy weekend glow. I tuck my hair behind my ear, balancing a tray of burger buns as I walk over to the grill where Ash is standing and flipping patties like a pro—though, judging by the smoke, maybe not that much of a pro.

“Uh, Ash… I think that one’s about to become charcoal,” I tease, nudging him with my hip.

He grins, that stupidly charming one that always messes with my heart rate. “It’s called a ‘smoky finish,’ Amelia. Gourmet stuff.”

“Right. Totally intentional.”