Page 59 of Frosting and Flames

The last notes of the song vibrate in the air, and I push back the wisps of hair that have escaped my ponytail, breathless, my heart pounding from both dancing and the occasional brush of Nick’s arm against mine.

“All right, something a little slower now,” Brody drawls into the microphone, going for a cocky confidence he almost manages to pull off.

The opening chords of “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing” by Aerosmith drifts through the air, the high energy of the last song melting into something softer. The shift in tempo is instant, and I’m conscious of Nick standing beside me.

His smiles fades, becoming more unreadable, his gaze on me. “Dance with me?” he asks, his voice lower, rougher than usual, as he holds out a hand in my direction.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

RACHEL

We were just dancing together, but that was different. More a group thing, and even though a few of the teens have paired off to dance to this song, too, this feels weightier.

I should laugh it off. Tell him he’s getting too into it. But my hand slides into his before I can think too hard about it. He pulls me closer, his other hand settling firmly against the small of my back, the warmth of his palm burning through the thin cotton of my tank top.

He sways us gently in the dimly lit garage, and I let myself settle into the rhythm, my body moving in sync with his. This close, I swear I can hear his heartbeat, or maybe that’s the bass of the song, curling around me the same as his cedar scent or the way his fingers curl over mine. It suddenly seems impossible to focus on anything else.

“I think they pass the audition,” Nick murmurs after a long moment, his breath tickling the top of my head.

The band hasn’t made any mistakes this song, or maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention, too wrapped up in Nick instead. “Yeah, they’re good.”

“Are you a sucker for 80s power ballads?”

I huff a quiet laugh, looking up at him and expecting to find a teasing gleam in his gaze. But as our eyes lock, there’s something soft and unspoken lingering there. Something that makes my pulse stutter, the whole world narrowing to just the two of us, his hand still holding mine like he has no intention of letting go.

Swallowing hard, I glance away, trying to focus on the melody wrapping around us. “You caught me,” I say, forcing some levity back into our dynamic. “Now you know my weakness.”

“That makes two things on my list.”

“What’s the other?”

“Eleven-eleven wishes.”

That’s right. “Looks like we missed it for today.” It’s already dinner time.

“There’s still tonight.”

The fluttering in my chest from earlier strengthens. He makes it sound like we’ll be together tonight. Which we won’t. Obviously. Why would we be together that late?

Did it suddenly get really hot?

The song ends and I pull away, clearing my throat as I try to shake off the moment. I catch Brody’s eye, who’s oblivious to whatever was going on between me and Nick.

“Do you want to hear more?” Brody asks hopefully. Behind him, the bassist has an equally hopeful look as she bites her bottom lip and the drummer pushes his now-sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“You’ve got the gig,” I tell him, fairly sure Nick’s in agreement with me, and plug my ears at the raucous response from the crowd.

“Holy crap,” I mutter, moving out from the middle of the group so I don’t get trampled in what I’m afraid is going to turn into a mosh pit with the way they’re reacting.

Nick is laughing as he follows me out, his hand on my lower back, guiding me and making sure I’m not accidentally elbowed or hit in the teenagers’ enthusiasm.

“Let me go exchange info with Brody,” he says, leaning in close so I can hear him. “Meet you at the truck.”

I nod, the sensation of his hand on me still there even when he’s gone, as if the shape of it is etched in my skin.

I turn toward the truck, shaking my head at myself. This thing between me and Nick… My heart gallops around in my chest, swooping every which way. Is it even anything? Am I imagining it?

And more importantly, do I want it to be anything?

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