Page 83 of The Wrong Play

His hands tightened, and then he lifted me off the tailgate with that ridiculous ease of his, like I weighed nothing. The world tilted as he set me down on the grass, and I swayed for a second—the buzz of the beer making my head light, my movements slow and clumsy. But Jace was there, his hands guiding me, steady and firm, pulling me into him until my chest brushed his, the solid warmth of him grounding me as the music swirled around us.

The firelight danced over his golden hair, turning the messy strands into something glowing, something almost mythical, like he’d stepped out of a story I’d dreamed up. His grip was firm, protective, his arms wrapping me close as he swayed us side to side, slow and deliberate, the crowd fading into a blurry hum beyond us. I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath his shirt, strong and alive, matching the rhythm of the song. His warmth seeped into me, melting the tension in my shoulders, softening me against him.

I exhaled, a shaky little breath, and let myself melt into it, into him, lost in our own tiny world, the bonfire’s crackle and the distant chatter falling away.

This wasn’t just a dance.

This was somethingmore.

Jace’s fingers splayed wide against my back, tracing gentle, lazy circles over my hoodie, like he was mapping me out,memorizing every inch he could touch. It wasn’t just holding—he waskeepingme, his hands possessive but so tender it made my chest ache.

I rested my cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin—clean, warm, sohim—and let my eyes flutter shut.

“I think I was always gonna end up here,” Jace murmured, his voice barely a whisper against my ear. “With you.”

My breath caught, a quick, sharp hitch that lodged in my throat, and my fingers tightened on his shirt, clinging to the fabric like it could steady me.

It wasn’t a declaration. Not quite.

But itfeltlike one, heavy with quiet truth, sinking into me like rain into dry earth.

I pressed closer, my forehead brushing his collarbone, the heat of his skin radiating through his shirt, and he shifted, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my hairline, soft and slow. The firelight flickered behind my closed eyes, painting little bursts of gold and orange, but all I could feel was him—his heartbeat under my palm, his breath against my temple, the way he held me like I was something precious, something he’d never let slip away.

“Riley,” he said, so quiet it was almost lost in the music, and I peeked up at him, my lashes lifting slow and hesitant. His face was close—too close—his eyes locked on mine, warm and unguarded, the fire reflecting in them like tiny sparks. His lips curved, just a little, soft and real, and my stomach flipped, a slow, sweet twist that left me breathless.

The song dipped, the lyrics curling around us, wrapping us in its quiet promise, its achinghope.

And I knew.

Knewwhat it meant to truly fall for someone.

It wasn’t grand gestures or flashy moments. It was this. The quiet, the certainty, the way someone could hold you like they’dnever let you go. The thought that maybe…he’d be able to handle me…that he wouldn’t think I was a burden.

I gripped the back of his shirt andclungto him, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to let go either.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough at the edges, like it slipped out before he could stop it, and I ducked my head fast, my cheeks burning, a tiny laugh bubbling up despite myself. He chuckled, too, soft and low, his chest rumbling against mine, and he pressed his lips to my forehead—a quick, gentle kiss that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

The song faded, its last notes drifting into the night, but Jace didn’t let go, he didn’t step back. He just held me there, swaying still, like the music hadn’t ended, like it never would. And I stayed, my arms around him, my cheek against his shoulder, the firelight glowing soft and golden around us, feeling—for the first time in a long time—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The night stretched on, the bonfire’s glow dimming as people trickled away, their laughter fading into the dark. Jace stayed close, his arm around me as we said goodbyes—Parker’s laugh, Matty’s sloppy wave, Casey’s quiet nod, Natalie’s bubbly hug filling my insides up with a heady, sparkling warmth. And then he led me to his Jeep.

“Are you all right to drive?” I murmured as he helped me into my seat.

“I didn’t drink anything, Riley-girl,” he said, reaching over to snap my seat belt into place.

“You didn’t?” I asked with a frown, before realizing I’d only seen him sipping water the whole evening.

“I didn’t want anything about this night to be blurry,” he answered with a wink as he closed my door.

My head was still light, the beer’s buzz lingering, but his hand in mine felt like an anchor as he drove. There was a part of me that said I should be asking him to take me back to my dorm—but I couldn’t get my mouth to actually say that.

I didn’t want this night to end.

The hum of the engine and the soft country tune on the radio filled the space between us. I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of trees and streetlights, my heart still fluttering from the dance, from him.

---