Page 49 of Close Knit

“My parents named us in alphabetical order, so that usually helps people keep track,” he explains, walking ahead of me. “Alec, Brooklyn, me, Dante, who’s responsible for all of this, Ezra, and Francesca. We’re each a year apart from one another.”

I crane my neck, taking in this magical place. “Must’ve been great having so many built-in best friends growing up.”

“Yeah,” he says apathetically. “Do you hear that?”

In the distance, the low hum of bass reverberates.

“Music?”

We follow the noise through a bend deep in the garden until we’re met with a crowd of people dressed in glitter and glam. They’re dancing around a grand marble gazebo, which serves as a DJ booth. The loud music pulsates through the very heart of the garden, making the plants sway in rhythm and the flowers bloom in time with the beat.

“I’m going to kill Dante.”

“A secret garden party?” we say at the same time.

“I didn’t realize this would be a full-on rave.” He rubs his temples. “My brother likes to pull stunts like this. Unlike you, he doesn’t hate surprises. We can leave.”

“Are you out of your mind?Thisis exactly the sort of surprise I can rally behind.” I squeal, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “I tried to go clubbing when I first got here, but it just didn’t work out. There are certain Yes Year moments that don’t work solo.”

“You went to a club alone?”

I arch a curious brow at him. “Yes.” My body instantly shimmies to the music. “Come on, let’s go dance.” He hesitates. “You told me you like house and techno music; don’t pretend you don’t like dancing to it!” I ensnare his hand in mine. A warm shock flies through me. The deep caramel of his eyes lights up. There’s something there, but neither of us spends too long investigating it before we break into the crowd.

Electronic vibrations wrap around me, sinking into my bones. I surrender to them, my body swaying however feels right. Time turns liquid. Cameron sways his shoulders alongside mine, bouncing on his feet. He doesn’t invade the friendly distance between us, but he also makes no effort to drop his gaze from me the entire time. The little wrinkle that usually camps between his brows has vanished, replaced by tiny beads of sweat. It’s tragically unfair how good-looking he is when he lets loose a little.

My head buzzes like I’ve been dusted with fairy powder and I am floating in a sky of cotton candy, my feet kicking up fluffs of sugary sweetness.

I didn’t plan on bringing out my inner child today, especially not around Cameron, but here she is. She’s the girl I usually keep under wraps—the one from before the bullying, before I had to relearn how to love myself. She’s loud, laughs obnoxiously, and moves however she wants without worrying about who’s watching. And when she looks at Cameron, she sees the boy he may have once been. A boy who makes it okay to be my kid self. She wants to grab his hand, spin him around, and shake all the brooding right out of him.

The beat drops.

The crowd erupts before a human wave crashes back to earth and makes the ground tremble. Suddenly, a girl dressed like a glittering fairy tumbles into me, sending my entire body straight into Cameron’s chest.

The heady scent of fresh grass clings to his skin, more potent than the actual garden we’re in.

“Woah,” I gasp, feeling the firmness of his muscles under my fingertips as I cling to him for balance. Our breaths mingle, his warm and slightly ragged, mine caught between a gasp and a sigh.

“I’m finding it hard to believe that you don’t like it when I catch you.” His laugh is low. Maybe I do like it when he’s there to catch me. Just a little. But I’m certainly not doing it on purpose. Unless my subconscious is sabotaging me.

I steal a glance upward, craning my neck to meet his gaze head-on. A hushed conversation flits between us. Goose bumps march across my skin. His hand moves from my waist to the small of my back, tugging me flush against him.

My palm slides up his chest, feeling the hard planes of his body. The contact is dizzying, making my head spin and mypulse quicken. Our bodies move together to the rhythm of the music, each beat drawing us closer, each sway making the world around us fade into the background. My mind flies in and out of the present and back to the night we spent together.

Gosh, I want to kiss him again, taste his sweat on my tongue. Instead of showing me the stars, maybe he can show me the sky above us, the vines of ivy trailing up the walls.

But I can’t. I know I can’t. If we share even a fraction of what we did the night we were together, I’ll turn into a mushy, feelings-infused mess.

Why must I be such a softie?Women with dazzling brilliance and bucketloads of self-esteem don’t fall for their one-night stands. Or do they?

He leans down, whispering in my ear, “Having fun?”

“Yes!” I shout back, reluctantly removing myself from him. I think he’s having fun, too. He just needs a little fun foreplay. A slow burner, as they’d say onLust Island. “Let’s get some water. It’s hot!”

He laces his fingers into mine and leads me to a colorful, flower-adorned bar, pulling out an empty stool for me.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!”

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