Page 49 of Light Up The Night
"No. You're bringing her over, right now. And then we're meeting the rest of the gang at The Cellar."
"Fee—"
"Try to say no, Rye. I fucking double-dog dare you."
I laugh ruefully. "Fuck." I pull the phone away from my face and look at Cadence. "You up to meeting my brother and his wife?"
She positively lights up. "Yes! I would enjoy that."
Shit.
"We're in," I say to Felix. "Be there in a minute."
"Cool. See ya soon, loser."
Ah, Felix. He used to always be so serious. And then he met Ember, and she changed him for the better. Now, he's light-hearted and goofy, and down to playfully insult each other like old times.
I can't help wondering if I could have that. Someday.
My gaze goes to Cadence, for some reason, when that thought barrels through my brain.
She's grinning like a fool, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Should I change?" She looks down at herself and then frowns. "I do not have any other clothing, unfortunately. I was not anticipating a stay in Three Rivers beyond a single night at the Crenshaws."
I can't stop myself from chuckling as I tuck a flyaway curl behind her ear. "You're perfect just like that, Gorgeous."
She blushes. "Riley…" her gaze flits to mine, uncertain and hopeful. "Do you really think I'm…gorgeous?"
"I could spend the whole fuckin' night tryin' to show you how unbearably sexy you are and still not get close to the truth of it."
Her mouth forms a roundO. "Riley, are you—are you implying—"
I run my thumb over her red-again cheek. "Yeah, babe."
Her head lolls forward to thunk against my chest, and she groans. "You should not say such things to me, Riley."
"I know. I'm a bad, bad boy."
"You jest, I know. But I…” she exhales sharply. "I know what lies beyond kissing, of course. My difficulty with being touched by others has long rendered that an impossibility for me…in my own mind, at least. But with you, I—"
"Whoa, hold up. Sorry to cut you off, but…you don't like being touched?" I'm incredulous and horrified. "I've been…fuck me, Cadence, I've beenpawingat you this whole time and you don’t like—” I turn away, furious at myself. "Jesus. Why didn't you say anything?"
She steps into me, erasing the distance I'd put between us. "Because, as I was about to say, with you, it is different. I do not know why or how. But I…" she blushes again. "I like it. Rather more than I should, maybe. When other people touch me—and I meananykind of physical contact—it makes me uncomfortable, at best. The intensity of my reaction varies based on my impression of the person. My parents, whom I love, I can hug. But everyone else, until I met you, I…I cannot. It makes my skin crawl. I cannot tolerate it. It is even worse than denim."
I laugh. "Youreallyhate jeans, huh?"
She shudders. "Ugh! It is the worst texture on earth. It feels like wearing sandpaper against my skin, and in truth, I'd rather the sandpaper."
I look down at my jeans. "I've worn this pair most of this week. I live in denim."
She frowns. “Is that not unhygienic?”
"Nope." I grin and rub my hands together. "Wait! Do I know something scientific that you don't?"
She seems truly stunned by this development. "That remains to be seen, does it not?"
"This dude, I think it was a dude, I dunno, but he was a science major, right? And he wore his jeans, like, over and over again, and his peers were giving him shit about it being gross. So he did a study. He wore the same pair of jeans for, like, fifteen months without washing them."
Her stunned expression morphs into disgust. "That is…barbarous."
