Page 55 of Wild Thorns

His eyes dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. Just long enough that I felt it like a touch.

My heart was doing that complicated thing again. My skin felt too warm, too tight, like my body was straining toward something it couldn’t name. I thought about what it would feel like to close those eight inches. To press myself against the solid wall of his chest. To feel those hands, large, capable, slightly rough, settle on my waist again.

"I—" I started.

"Lemonade!" Jasper appeared with two cups and a grin that was entirely too knowing. "Callum. Didn't see you there."

"You saw me." Callum's voice was flat.

"I absolutely saw you." Jasper handed me a cup, still grinning. "What are we talking about?"

"Nothing," Callum said, already stepping back. "I'll let you—" he gestured vaguely. "Enjoy the festival."

He disappeared into the crowd before I could say anything else.

"What was that?" I asked Jasper.

"That," Jasper said, his grin somehow getting wider, "was Callum trying to ask you something and getting interrupted by his incredibly handsome brother."

"You did that on purpose."

"I did absolutely nothing on purpose. I am innocent and also holding your lemonade, which you should drink before it gets warm."

I drank the lemonade, considered Jasper’s actions and intentions, but I didn't ask any more questions. After all, he was the only brother that had actually asked me out… unless you count Callum’s recent invitation to the magnolia grove. Regardless, I had come here with Jasper, I should be with Jasper.

But I thought about the magnolia grove. About better at night. About the way Callum had looked at me when he said it, like he was offering something wicked, something precious, something private.

The band continued with the slow songs. Couples danced across the grass as night began to fall, swaying in the twilight.

“Do you wanna dance?” Jasper asked.

He set down his lemonade and held out his hand. “Come on.”

I should have said no. I was still thinking about Callum, still feeling the phantom weight of his gaze, still wondering what would have happened if Jasper hadn’t interrupted.

But Jasper was looking at me with those warm eyes, his hand extended, and I found myself taking it.

He pulled me close, not inappropriately close, but closer than I’d expected. One hand settled on the small of my back. The other kept hold of mine, his fingers warm and slightly calloused.

“Hopefully we don’t get interrupted this time,” he murmured.

We swayed more than danced, barely moving, just shifting weight in time with the music. His thumb traced small circles on my back, light enough that I might have imagined it. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, steady, strong, slightly faster than it should have been. I found myself falling into the comfort of being held by him, how easy it was to just wanna lean on Jasper.

“This is nice,” I said, and immediately felt stupid for saying something so obvious.

But he just smiled, that genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Yeah. It is.”

The song ended. Neither of us moved.

Another song started, something with more tempo, and still we stood there, swaying to a rhythm that had nothing to do with the music. His hand had drifted lower on my back, his fingers splayed across the base of my spine. My free hand had somehow found its way to his shoulder, my thumb brushing the warm skin at his collar.

“Serena,” he said, and his voice had gone low, rough in a way that made my stomach flip.

“Yeah?”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were darker than usual, the playfulness replaced by something more serious. “I’m going to ask you something, and you can say no. You can always say no. But I need you to know that I’m asking.”

My heart was in my throat. “Asking what?”