He pulls his phone from his pocket, his brows pinching together as he taps something out.
And when he’s done, he slides it back into his jeans and looks up.
His eyes find me instantly.
And this time, there's no teasing gleam or faint smile. Just something dark. Heavy. Like he’s pissed.
I turn back toward Matt just as he finishes a story, and he looks at me—eyes moving from mine to my mouth.
“You wanna take a walk?” he asks.
My pulse stutters.
He must sense it, because he immediately adds, “Not far. Just a little loud over here, you know?”
He gestures with his head toward the far end of the yard. A patch of lawn lit only by the faint glow of fence lights.
“We won’t go any further than that,” he promises.
It’s actually kind of sweet. He’s been handsy, sure, but he’s not pushed. And right now, I’m not even sure if I’m attracted tohim. Of beingwanted. Or of beingwatched. But everything happening in the backyard is really turning me on.
“Okay,”
He helps me to my feet and laces his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
As we walk across the lawn, someone calls out, “Hey Matt! You headed out?”
Oh thank God. That’s his name.
I bite back a smirk and glance down, pretending to study the grass—because when that guy called his name, IfeltJaxon’s head snap in our direction.
Matt laughs. “Nah. Just taking a walk.”
We stop right where Matt said we would. He turns to face me, hands slipping into his pockets like he’s suddenly nervous.
I kind of am, too.
“You look incredible,” Matt says softly. His eyes are warm. Honest. “I mean it. That dress, your hair…” He smiles, a little bashful. “You’re really something, Cassidy.”
I exhale slowly and feel my cheeks burn. “Thanks.”
He shifts closer, thumb brushing mine where our hands are still linked.
“Can I get your number?” he asks. “I’d love to talk to you again. Maybe take you out sometime?”
I hesitate, biting my lip, then nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
His grin spreads wide across his face. He hands me his phone, and I type in my number, saving it as justCassidy.
When I give it back, he wraps one arm around my waist again, slow and careful.
His voice drops, low and husky. “I really want to kiss you, Cass.”
The air sticks in my throat.
I’m about to answer—one way or another—when the back door flies open.
“Matt!” someone yells, breathless. “Coach is on his way to inspect our dorms. We’re dead if we’re not in our rooms in ten!”
