Page 23 of Entangled

A casual shrug rolls off his shoulders in response to my silence. “Or we could just stand here debating the merits of gun control all night… whatever you want.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” I huff, walking past him and heading toward the beach. “You make me need to drink.”

He catches up quickly and smirks down at me from inside the shadows on his hood. “That can be arranged.”

“Uh-huh.”

The cold ocean air hits as we walk down to the beach side by side and causes an involuntary shudder to run through me. Damn, I really wish I had rethought my shorts and crop top outfit before walking out the door.

“Here.” Jace stops, ripping his hoodie off and pulling it over my head before I can utter a word of protest. As if he knows I never would have accepted had he simply offered it. “Forgot to mention it gets pretty cold out here at night.” He gives me a grin, left standing in a long-sleeved gray thermal that clings to him. His hair once again pulled back again into a messy bun crowning his head.

I slip my arms into his hoodie and nod my silent thanks, rolling the sleeves up as we resume our pace, relishing the lingering warmth as I’m engulfed in his sea-spring scent. The desire I feel to sink farther into his hoodie, into the heat and smell of him leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling. The last guy to care for me like this was Coop and the painful familiarity of it strikes so deep that for a moment I seize up. My step faltering for a second before I push through, forcing it down as we come up on the bonfire.

A small group of people eye me curiously as we make it to them, conversations halting at our arrival and leaving nothing but the sound of music playing from a speaker. From the looks of things, this is more of a hangout than a party though and that suits my mood just fine. I stand tall, shoulders back in a confident pose. Exuding an air of indifference as I weather their once overs with a small smirk. Social anxiety has never been a hang-up of mine. People either like me or hate me and I’ve never particularly cared enough to sway those who fell into the latter group.

Thankfully, Jace wastes no time in breaking the awkward silence and making introductions.

“Everyone,” he calls the attention of the group to himself as he steps behind me, bringing his front up against my back and wrapping an arm loosely around my chest, tucking me under his chin. “This is El.” The casual squeeze of his arm around me as he says my name screams possession. “She’s new in town.”

Smooth, Dawson. I keep my eye roll internal and force my body to stay relaxed seeing as we are in front of his friends but really, he might have saved time if he’d simply taken a Sharpie and writtenMineon the front of his hoodie before we walked up.

Who would’ve guessed? Mr. Carefree had a possessive streak.

“El.” Jace lifts the hand he doesn’t have wrapped around me and starts pointing out people as he introduces them. “This is Zane, the asshole who just happens to be lucky enough to be my best friend, and the girlfriend he stole from me in junior high, Andrea.” A scoff leaves the dark-haired, heavily tattooed guy sitting on a blanket to my right as he waves, the sleek redhead snuggled up in his arms laughing lightly while giving me a nod of greeting. “This is Tommy, he’s a few years older than us, but we let him hang out with us because his best friend is rarely in town and we feel sorry for him.” The clean-cut blond guy sitting in a camping chair to my left rolls his eyes and raises his beer at me in welcome. “That’s Sam over there giving you the mean mug but don’t mind her, she’s just mad she has a boy’s name.” He points to a gorgeous brunette girl across the fire from us who looks like she could be on the cover of sports illustrated and is undoubtedly glaring daggers at me. “And of course, you met Tiff already, but that’s her and her boyfriend Jared over there next to Sam.”

“Hi!” Tiff excitedly exclaims, practically bouncing in her redheaded boyfriend’s lap from where they sit in a camper chair, making him look seriously uncomfortable. “Sorry about this morning but I just kinda had a meltdown after running into you after last night. It was all anyone could talk about after you left and oh my gosh you’re just so pretty.” She cringes slightly as if just realizing what she’s said. “Okay, I’m going to shut up now.”

I can’t help the soft laugh that leaves me at her exuberance.

“It’s okay. I kinda had a meltdown myself so no worries.” I shoot her a quick wink, hoping she gets that I’m referencing the way I stormed off and her delighted smile is all the answer I need.

“Drink?” Tommy asks, opening the cooler next to him and holding out a ranch water to me.

“Please.”

Jace grabs the drink with his free hand and pops the top before passing it over to me.

Someone’s pulling out the big guns tonight apparently.

“So, El, are you from around here?” Andrea’s soft voice draws my attention back to her.

“Uh, no. Not exactly.” I take a sip of my drink to stall before my family history inevitably comes out. “I grew up in LA.”

“Then what the hell brought you down here?” Zane asks curiously, echoing his best friend’s question to me the night before.

“My family is from here. My grams passed away a few years back and left me her house. Figured I should probably get down here and see the place before a hurricane swept through and blew it away.” I shoot him a bratty smirk and shrug my shoulders, feeling them move against Jace’s warm chest.

“No shit?” Zane laughs. “Who was your grams?”

I allow myself to lean back the barest inch for a moment, relishing the undeniable comfort I feel at having Jace, quite literally, at my back. Then I remind myself just exactly who I am, shoving steel into each vertebra of my spine as I force myself to push away.

“Elise Delacroix.” I meet Zane’s gaze head-on and see the slow realization dawn on him. The laughter fades from his expression and he eyes me consideringly, but I don’t back down, I don’t break his gaze even though I can feel the eyes of the rest of the group on me.

“But Ms. Delacriox only had one kid so that would make you…” Tiff’s voice pulls at me from across the bonfire as she trails off awkwardly.

“Eleanor Delacroix.” Finally breaking my eyes away from Zane’s, I answer her unspoken question with a small smile. “But like I told Jace, the people I actually like call me El.”

“El,” she echoes, her answering smile tinged with awkwardness but no less welcoming.

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