Leaning over, I give him a playful shove. “You mean, kind of like you just did to all of us?”
“Touché,” he says, and when I glance over at him, he tosses me a crooked grin that makes my stomach bottom out. It’s boyish and cute. It’s innocent with a side of flirty that makes my pulse kick up.
He brings the joint up to his lips, and they purse around the paper as he inhales, the cherry pulsing bright red and orange amongst the dark night. It’s the first time I’m really noticing his lips; how nice they are. They’re full, soft pink, and they stand out nicely against the fairness of his skin. That area above his lip that connects to his nose—I have no clue what it’s called, but it’s like two little lines leading up to his nostrils—it’s defined ina way that’s pleasing to the eye. In fact, his entire face is oddly proportionate, but in a good way. Like the angles and curves that make up Xander’s face scratch something inside my brain.
Wow, I should never, ever say those words out loud unless I want him to think I’m some sort of freak.
I’m not sure how long we stare at each other, but he’s the first one to break the connection, clearing his throat, and glancing down at his lap. He takes another hit off the joint before putting it out on the top of the tin can. Shoving the roach inside, he pockets it before tossing me a quick glance. There’s no lingering to his gaze this time.
“Should we get back to everyone?” he asks, his voice a little raspy now. Probably from the smoke.
I nod, taking one last drag. “Yeah, sure, let’s go.” Even though that’s the last thing I want to do.
Standing up in the truck bed, I’m the first to jump down. Xander follows right behind me, but as soon as his feet touch the ground, one of his legs gives out and he falls forward, a garbled sound leaving his mouth. Thankfully, I’m right there to catch him, but the moment he’s in my embrace, it’s like the oxygen around us is sucked away.
Xander looks up at me, his hands curled into fists on the front of my t-shirt, his floppy hair now fully in his face. The energy around us thrums with something I don’t understand, and my heart hammers against my ribs. His tongue pokes out, wetting his lips, and probably because of our proximity, my eyes immediately drop and track the movement, a zap of…something else entirely shooting down my spine at the sight.
I don’t…I don’t understand it. All I want to do is lean in and close the distance, to taste those lips he just licked.
I. Don’t. Understand. It.
But I want to do it. To try it.
What would he taste like? Feel like? How would I feel kissing him? A man. Would I like it? Want to do it again?
All these questions swarm my mind, and in the end, I think…I’m going to do it. Like he heard the decision be made in my mind, his eyes drop down to my lips, and I watch as he swallows hard before meeting my gaze again.
I’m distantly aware that everybody is on the other side of the yard. Aware there’s music playing, and a fire burning, and people dancing and talking and having fun. I’m aware of it all, but it doesn’t exist in my world right now. I lean in a little closer, Xander’s breath hitching as I do.
Our faces are so close, our lips nearly brushing. I’m breathing him in, and him, me, but before I can seal my mouth to his, Xander’s fists press down on my chest. “Cope.” He breathes my name so quietly, I almost don’t hear it. “I can’t.”
Right.
Taking a small step back and putting some much-needed distance between us, I clear my throat, dragging a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry about that.” I huff out a laugh that sounds forced even to my own ears. “Don’t know what came over me.”
“No, please don’t be sorry,” he replies, reaching out to touch my forearm, and then deciding better of it, dropping his hand altogether. “If it weren’t for, well, you know…”
“Henry,” I say, his name like glass on my tongue. “I get it. I shouldn’t have done that. Wanna head back over there?”
“Yeah.” Xander nods, fingers nervously toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Let’s do that.”
What the fuck was that? Why would I try to kiss him? And now it’s fucking awkward. Way to go, Cope.
Walking in silence, we take a seat beside each other in front of the fire. Shooter and Sterling must’ve finished their quickie because they’re across from us, and based on the way Shooter’swatching me, I’d say he caught part, if not all, of what just went down over by my truck.
Lovely.
9
XANDER DAWSON
Glancing at the time on the dash, I urge the car ahead of me to go a little bit faster because I’m running late. Henry’s plane lands in twenty minutes, and I’m still about thirty-five minutes away from the airport. No surprise to anybody, there’s no airport in Copper Lake, so I had to go all the way into Cheyenne to pick him up. I’m driving my aunt’s car. I got mine back from the shop last week—it cost a pretty freaking penny to fix, but I still don’t trust it to drive long distances.
Thick, dense dread sits unmoving at the bottom of my gut the closer I get to picking Henry up, which is stupid. He’s my boyfriend, whom I haven’t seen in almost a month. I should be excited to see him.
No, you know what? Iamexcited to see Henry.
I am.
