She’s it.
She’s mine.
Right now, we’re just two people, walking through a forest made of light and music and warmth. Her head tips up as she takes it all in, eyes wide, lips parted in awe.
I swear, I could spend a lifetime watching her look at the world like this.
We follow the smell of something grilled and sinful until we hit a row of food trucks nestled between trees. String lights zigzag overhead, casting a soft golden haze over everything. There’s music playing somewhere close—mellow guitar, slow and soulful.
Mac’s eyes lock onto a neon sign that reads Dirty Tacos and lights up like she’s just found the holy grail.
“Oh, my God. That’s it. That’s the one,” she says, tugging my hand like a child hyped on sugar.
I chuckle. “Didn’t even hesitate.”
“I know what I want when I see it,” she throws over her shoulder with a smirk that hits me square in the chest.
She steps up to order while I hover close behind her, fingers brushing the bare skin between her jeans and Braden’s hoodie—mine now, I guess, since it swallows her whole and smells like home. I rest my chin on her shoulder, breathing her in while the cook flips tortillas on a sizzling grill.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs without turning.
“Can’t help it,” I whisper against her skin. “You drive me crazy.”
Her laugh is low and soft, curling through me like smoke. The cook glances over, a little flustered as he hands over two foil-wrapped tacos.
“Sorry to interrupt…” He clears his throat, giving me a sheepish grin. “But are you… Logan Dale?”
Mac stiffens slightly, but I squeeze her hip and smile.
“Yeah, man,” I nod.
He hands me a napkin and a Sharpie from the counter. “My little brother is obsessed with Burnt Ashes. You’d make his year.”
I sign the napkin with a quick Stay loud. – L.D. and hand it back.
“Thank you,” the guy beams, clutching it like gold. “You guys kill it, by the way.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, grabbing the food and steering Mac gently by the small of her back.
We wander off to a quiet spot tucked behind a row of food tents where the trees hang lower, lights dimmer, casting everything in soft gold and shadow. There’s a hammock strung between two pines, and no one around.
Perfect.
We sit on the thick grass, backs against a tree, tacos in hand, music floating to us on the breeze. It’s messy, and we end up laughing, licking sauce off each other’s fingers.
But then something shifts.
Mac sets her empty wrapper aside, and I wipe a thumb across her lower lip, catching a bit of barbecue. Her breath hitches.
“Got it,” I murmur.
She leans into my touch like its instinct, like her body knows exactly where it belongs. And just like that, the space between us disappears.
I kiss her. Slow at first, coaxing. Her lips are warm, soft, still tinged with spice. She climbs onto my lap like it’s second nature, straddling me right there under the pines. Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging, tilting my head as she deepens the kiss. My hands are at her waist, sliding beneath the hoodie, palms hungry for skin.
Stars blink above us, quiet witnesses.
“Eyes on me,” I whisper, voice thick with want.
