Page 82 of The Wrong Play

“Of course, she’s going to want to be friends with us,” Natalie retorted, like Casey had said something ridiculous. “We’re awesome.”

Natalie glanced over at me. “You want to be friends with us, right?”

I blinked at her, blushing furiously again as I squeaked out, “Of course.”

Natalie looked at Casey triumphantly. “See?!!”

Jace chuckled behind me, his breath warm against my ear. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear, and my heart skipped, caught between nerves and something softer. “It’s impossible not to.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse betraying me with the way it stuttered in my throat.

Jace’s voice was smooth, easy—like this was just another one of his crazy, offhand remarks. Like it was nothing.

But itwasn’tnothing.

Not to me.

Not when his breath skimmed my skin, low and intimate, like a secret just for me. Not when his wordslingered—sank deep and settled into the place I never let anyone reach.

It was impossible not to.

My stomach flipped, my body reacting before my brain could catch up.

Because it almost sounded like he…

Like helovedme.

Which was ridiculous.

Right?

And yet, as I felt the heat of his body pressed against my back, as his fingers brushed lightly over my wrist like he couldn’tnottouch me?—

I wasn’t exactly sure.

I was next to Jace, our legs dangling over the edge of Parker’s truck as the bonfire’s roar sliced through the night. Its flames stabbed fifteen feet high, flinging embers that twirled like frantic moths above the Knoxville crowd, a pulsing swarm of coeds, alumni, and stragglers mashed together under a star-slashedsky. Their shouts and slurred laughter hammered my ears over the relentless thud of bass from warped speakers.

And somehow—somehow—this was the most fun I’d ever had.

The group had been good to me, welcoming in a way I wasn’t used to, like I belonged there just as much as any of them. I’d laughed more tonight than I could ever remember laughing in my life, loud, real, unrestrained laughter that had my stomach aching from the sheer force of it. Parker and Matty had drunkenly declared me an honoraryLlamamember, and Casey and Nat had all but glued themselves to my side, already making plans for us that I couldn’t help but hope were real.

And then there was Jace.

He’d beeneverywhere—his body always close, his hand brushing my thigh, his knuckles grazing my wrist. He never left my side except to grab me food, and even then, he’d thrown a wink over his shoulder like hedaredme to miss him. And maybe I did. Maybe I’d spent every second hyperaware of the way his eyes always found mine first, the way he’d light up just a little whenever I smiled at him.

I was warm from it all. The beer, the heat of the fire, the way my chestfeltdifferent—light and heavy all at once.

My head buzzed, foggy from the four or five beers I’d downed. I clutched my latest bottle, already half-empty, the condensation slicking my fingers.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

I felthappy.

The opening chords of “The Only Exception” floated through the night air, soft and lilting, cutting through the thumping bass that had owned the bonfire all evening. The gentle strum of the guitar rippled out, a whisper against the chaos, softening the wild shouts and laughter into something quieter, something sweeter. The crowd shifted, a subtle hush falling over the field asthe song’s melody wove through the smoke and firelight. It felt like the world exhaled, just for a moment, and I sat there on the tailgate of that giant black truck, taking it all in.

Jace was in front of me then, his strong hands sliding around my waist, his fingers warm where they moved against my skin.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, wrapping around me like the song itself, pulling me in before I could think to pull away—not that I wanted to, not really.

---