Page 128 of A Little Tempting

“You really think I didn’t notice how you two snuggled on my couch during the Harry Potter party?”

“Mom,” I warn.

“He likes you, babe, and I have a feeling you like him, too.”

She’s right. I do. I like him a lot. Especially after our little…teaching session the other night. But said session is between Reeves and me, andonlyReeves and me. Add in the Halloween party, and I’m pretty much walking on cloud nine. However, admitting it to myself is one thing, but admitting it to my mother? Well, it’s different.

“You’re making an assumption,” I point out. “Two of them, actually.”

“Am I?” She quirks her brow. “Because from where I was sitting, it was pretty clear?—”

“We haven’t…defined the relationship or whatever, so...”

“Take it from your sage old mom. Sometimes, you don’t need a label to know you care about someone.”

“Mo-om.”

“I’m just saying, if there’s any reason you think you need our approval, you have it. I’ve heard a few things about Reeves that might make some mothers nervous, but I know you, and I know you wouldn’t put your heart on the line for just anyone, okay? We love you, and we trust your judgment.Yours,” she emphasizes. “Understand?”

A burn hits behind my eyes as her words wash over me.

We trust your judgment.

Since the accident, I’ve second-guessed myself more times than I can count. Whether I’m strong enough or coordinated enough or confident enough or smart enough to trust my gut and to trust the not-so-tiny voice in my head telling me Oliver’s a good guy. Telling me he cares about me. Telling me he might even love me one day. I spent so much time pushing the voice away, knowing my mom has faith in it means more than she’ll ever know.

Digging my teeth into the inside of my cheek, I let out a slow breath and nod. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles, and I swear the woman can read my mind. “Now, get in there and have fun.”

“Mm-hmm.” I give her a small wave. “Bye.”

“See ya!”

Closing the door, I weave around the busy entryway but stop short when I realize exactly how crowded the family room is. Seriously. Bodies upon bodies are pressed together like sardines in a can. In the center of the family room lies a giant, custom-made Twister mat with rows and rows of colored dots reaching from one end of the room to the other. The rules of the game are simple. I remember playing it when I was a kid. Someone names a body part and a color, and you have to put the body part called out on the specific color. When a person falls or loses their balance, they’re out. The last one standing wins.

Clearly, the game is already underway.

Everett’s standing on the coffee table at the edge of the room with his feet spread wide, spinning an oversized arrow on a giant cardboard wheel. The arrow points to a color and a body part, like in the smaller version of the game. It seems there’s a twist, though. People are wearing T-shirts with solid colors matching the mat on the floor, and I swear it isn’t a coincidence.

Curious, I slip between a pair of bodies.

“Right hand, green,” Everett announces.

One of the girls puts her right hand on a guy beside her. He’s wearing a green shirt. She squeezes his pec, and they both laugh as a few of the people around them shift into different positions, making sure they’re each touching green, whether it’s the green on the mat or green from one of their fellow players.

“Hey, you in?” a guy asks from behind me.

I turn around, confused to see him staring at me expectantly. “I’m sorry?”

“Here.”

He presses a yellow T-shirt to my chest, and I take it on reflex. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“Oh, I’m not?—”

Without another word, he leaves, disappearing through the crowd, not allowing me to finish my sentence.

---