Page 60 of Never Let You Go

I’m feeling a hundred times better already.

I don’t need any one person to be happy. Just a good drink, and a good song.

And a village looking out for me.

“Woo-hoo! I’m on the Titanic.” The room swerves around me, and I partially miss my mouth with the shot. The feeling of the cinnamon-flavored liquor gliding outside my throat is hilarious. “It’s on the wron’ side of my throat,” I tell Grace, pointing to my skin. “Should be inside, yeah? It’s outside.” I hold onto her as I roar in laughter.

Grace shoves a glass of water in my hand. “Honey, drink this,” she says.

There’s two Graces in front of me, and they look soooo funny. So kind too. They are my two best friends. “You think?”

She grabs my waist to keep me from falling. I don’t know why the dance floor feels like a boat… Oh. Am I drunk? I try to focus.

Maybe?

That’s so funny. Sarah would be so proud of me. I get into a fit of laughter and pull my phone out, but my fingers are all rubbery. I need to tell her I love her.

Grace holds the glass of water up to my lips. “Come on, bottoms up.”

“I love you,” I tell her. “You’re my best friend. My second best friend. No. My best friendsss. You’re all my best friends,” I say, looking at the blurry faces of Kiara—my new cheerleader—Willow, Haley, and Grace.

They all laugh. I am funny, right? I take little sips of the water, and by the time the glass is empty, my eyes get back into focus.

And they focus right smack on a broad chest, dark curls, and brooding eyes boring into me, melting my core.

“Oooooooh. You came!!!” I swoon. There’s nothing else to do but swoon when Christopher Wright is towering over me, frowning, biting his bottom lip like he’s keeping himself from saying anything. “See? You’re fun! Let’s have fun,” I say and grab his hand, pulling him to the dance floor.

I might be a little tipsy, but I don’t miss the fact that his palm nests flush against mine and his fingers wrap snuggly around my hand. Mmm. So good.

But he stays right where he is, and a simple flick of his wrist pulls me back, right into his chest. I bounce against it. He’s wearing a dark Henley shirt, tight around those pecs.

Those pecs.

He smells like pine and fresh laundry but mostly I notice his whole body is cold. He just walked in from outside.

“Where’s Skye?” I ask softly, and he tilts his head down toward me. It’s loud, so I get on my tiptoes and repeat in his ear, my lips all but touching his lobe, “Where’s Skye?”

He leans into me and answers, “Asleep in bed. Come on, let’s go.”

“I can handle myself,” I say, vaguely upset he helped me put my boots and coat on and is now pulling me by his side with one hand, my fuck-me pumps in his other hand. I’m not too drunk to notice he settled my tab—I tried to protest, but one glower was all it took. He won that argument.

He walks long strides across The Green, and when I trip trying to keep up with him, he slows his pace. That’s when I notice. “You’re not wearing a coat. Or a hat. It’s gotta be twenty below.” My teeth chatter and I trip again, forcing him to stop.

“Yeah. It’s a little nippy.” He lowers himself and before I know what’s happening, he’s hoisted me over his shoulder and starts hustling toward the bakery. “You okay up there?”

Am I okay? Am I okay? “Mmmm. Yes?” I giggle, my voice bouncing with his steps. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better.” We cross the Green, then the street. He hops up the steps to the bakery, still carrying me, swings the door open, and sets me down in front of him. He kicks the door closed and cups my elbows in his wide hands to keep me from falling back.

I feel a little nauseated, but there’s something I need to tell him.

Something that here, in the warmth of the bakery, behind the privacy of the drawn blinds, bathed in the soft light seeping from the lampposts, is the perfect moment.

“She was wrong about men. You’re a perfect gentleman,” I whisper, my hands crawling up on his chest, resting right below his neck.

He chuckles.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you kissed me,” I add.

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