Page 101 of A Little Tempting

I kind of love it.

“Ravenclaw,” Uncle Theo booms.

My dad takes off the hat and turns to me. “You’re up, Dyl.”

Slipping through the gap between Maverick and Reeves, a gentle brush of fingers tickles my wrist, and I turn back, catching a glimpse of a smirk from Reeves. Then I sit down on the stool.

The same spiel repeats as my dad places the worn sorting hat on my head.

“Hufflepuff,” Uncle Theo announces.

Reeves is next. He’s placed in Gryffindor, though I’m not surprised. I can feel the guy’s main-character energy from a mile away. The red and gold colors make his warm undertones even brighter as my mom slips on his house-themed cloak. However, when Reeves catches me checking him out, he gives me a cocky grin and moves to the side so Finley can take her place on the stool.

The hat barely touches her head before Uncle Theo yells, “Slytherin!”

“Called it,” Griffin points out from the couch.

She scoffs. “Whatever,Ravenclaw. You’re basically a glorified book nerd.”

“Says the girl obsessed with books,” he volleys back at her.

“Only murder mysteries, so watch your back, or I might find a place to bury your body.”

“There are those Slytherin roots,” he quips.

“All right, all right,” Uncle Mack calls. “No fighting on school premises, or I’ll have to take away your house points. Everett, you’re up.”

About half an hour later, everyone’s spread out in the family room with custom cloaks and handmade wands while balancing plates of goodies on their laps as the first Harry Potter movie plays on the television screen in front of us.

A few minutes later, Reeves stands from his spot on the floor and disappears into the kitchen, returning with two fresh glasses of butterbeer. Instead of returning to his original seat, he takes the spot next to me on the couch. My breath catches in my lungs, and I sneak a peek at him in my periphery. It’s stupid. I know it is. He’s just a boy, and I’m just a girl, and we’re only sitting on a couch. He isn’t making a move. He isn’t putting his arm around my shoulders. He isn’t even touching me. Yet here I am, feeling like a livewire. Is he going to touch me again? Do I want him to touch me again? Yes. Yes, I want him to touch me again, but how do I show I want it without looking like an idiot?

Dipping closer, he offers me the cup, whispering, “Here.”

I smile back at him and take it. When our fingers brush, a zing shoots up my arm, and I almost spill the stupid drink as he catches it at the last second.

“Shit, good catch,” I blurt out.

My mom glances my way with a smile, then faces the television again.

“Don’t worry, Thorne.” Reeves offers me the drink again. “I have quick reflexes.”

“Thanks.” Carefully, I take it, turn back to the movie, and sneak a sip of the drink while over-dissecting how I can feel his attention on the side of my face.

“Are you having fun?” he adds, keeping his voice low enough for only me to hear.

I nod. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. Kind of surprised I was invited, but, hey, I’ll take it.”

“Why haven’t you ever come before?” I whisper, sneaking a glance his way. “To family stuff? I mean, you’re friends with the guys. I’m surprised I never saw you until this year.”

He hesitates. “I’m not sure they consciously left me out of these things, but they're pretty protective of this.” He looks around the room again. “This place. These people. These moments.” His eyes find mine. “I’d be pretty protective, too.”

My brows bunch, and I steal another taste of butterbeer while staring at the screen without registering anything happening in the movie. I can feel it, though. His envy. It’s stupid, but it’s true.This?A family hanging out together with friends and watching an old movie? It should feel juvenile or corny. And yeah, I guess it is. But knowing it isn’t the norm—knowing some people wish they had the same thing and don’t—I guess it puts things in a different perspective. One I should be grateful for. I can’t help but feel sorry for him. For Reeves and the childhood he endured. The idea of a family like this, a loving, welcoming one, must be so foreign to him. As foreign as a wizarding world with a Dark Lord is to me.

The urge to move closer to him, to comfort him when he’s one of the strongest people I know, while also knowing the house he grew up in, is overwhelming. But I keep my butt where it is and drink more of my butterbeer. I wonder what it was like to be raised with a dad like his. It took me about two whole seconds to see there wasn’t exactly good blood between them. And if he doesn’t have his mom or anyone else… How lonely it must be. A guy like Reeves doesn’t deserve to be lonely. Someone who’s kind and thoughtful and confident and sexy, and?—

“What are you thinking?” he murmurs.

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