Page 193 of The Hookup Situation
She shoots me a look. “I don’t need protection.”
“Tell that to your death grip on my hand.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t let go. If anything, she clings tighter.
Inside, the air smells like smoke and dry ice. Black curtains brush our faces as we make our way through the narrow hallway. A zombie lunges from the shadows, groaning loud enough to make Julie shriek. She immediately buries her head in my chest.
I laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Definitely don’t need protection.”
“I’m actually a wussy,” she says, her voice muffled against me.
We move deeper, weaving through rooms full of skeletons and clowns. Every time something jumps out, Julie startles, then laughs. She’s glowing in the flashing lights, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright, and I can’t stop watching her.
By the time we reach the final stretch, the fog is thicker. A figure in a mask slams a fake chain saw against the wall, sparks flying. Julie yelps and practically climbs into my arms.
“Okay, okay,” I whisper, holding her tight.
The chain-saw guy moves on to his next victims, but Julie doesn’t let go. She’s breathless.
Before we exit, she grabs my hand and yanks me through a half-open black curtain, into a side room that’s pitch-black, except for a single flickering lantern in the corner. It comes on and off randomly to make it scarier.
“Jules—”
Her mouth is on mine before I can finish. I’m hard and desperate for her. I press her back against the wall as she pulls me down to her, fisting the front of my vest like she’s starving for me. I groan against her lips, bracing my hand above her head. The other one grips her hip, and I pull her flush against me.
“Fuck, you’re so hard,” she whispers, kissing me.
Her body presses into me and I want her closer. The need to have her is overwhelming, and we’re nearly insatiable.
Julie breaks away just long enough to whisper, “I need you, Nick.”
She drags my mouth back down to her hungry lips.
“Careful,” I rasp, my forehead pressed to hers. “I might not let you leave this room.”
Her nails scrape lightly against the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Maybe I don’t want to,” she confesses.
Her words undo me.
I kiss her harder, deeper, until we’re both gasping. Her crown clatters to the floor, along with her wig. My hand slides beneath the edge of her top, feeling the heat of her skin and the arch of her back as she melts into me.
Somewhere outside, another scream echoes, but here in the dark, it’s just us. Just the sound of our breathing and the taste of her mouth.
“I don’t want to either, but …” My lips trail along her jaw, and I press my mouth to her ear. “I need you to meet me at the gazebo in five minutes.”
Her breath catches. “Why?”
“Because,” I mutter, kissing her softly, “it’s time to exchange our letters.”
Her eyes search mine, still dazed, still burning, but she nods.
I leave her with one last kiss, then force myself to walk out before I change my mind and devour her right there in the dark. My chest is heaving, my lips swollen, my body aching for her, but this moment deserves more than shadows and fake cobwebs.
I step outside alone, and the night air hits me. My heart pounds harder than it ever did on the ice. I walk across the lawn, past the chatter and Halloween music, until I reach the gazebo at the edge of the property.
Autumn and Patterson hung the lights in it yesterday, and it glows like something out of a dream. Strings of fairy lights twist around the white beams, casting everything in soft gold. Pumpkins line the steps, and their happily carved faces flicker, guiding me inside.
I take my place on the bench and pull the orange envelope from my pocket. Her name is written across it in my handwriting. It holds my truths and how I feel about her. It’s light compared to the weight of what it means.
