Page 31 of Bad Moon Rising

That… That elicits a reaction from me, but it’s not one I know how to deal with.

My heart thumps unevenly in my chest as the strangest sense of…guilt courses through me. I have no idea where this reaction stems from, but I just know that the thought of dancing with him makes the butterflies in my stomach—the butterflies that materialized at just the thought of the Bellua brothers—leap into a barrel of acid.

Dancing with Chase feels like betraying the guys who have kept a hold of my heart for as long as I can remember, and I have no idea why.

I’m not dating any of them, and Jackson asked another girl to the dance, for Pete’s sake. I shouldn’t be feeling guilty for considering my date’s offer.

Yet I can’t ignore the trepidation that skitters down my spine at the thought of dancing with Chase, especially when the techno beat transitions into a slow song.

I eye his proffered hand as if the limb is covered in bees just waiting to sting me and then flick my eyes towards the door of the gym.

Jackson and Becka still haven’t arrived yet, and I don’t want to even think about the reasons for that. I heard the whisperings around the school of what some couples have gotten up to before prom started.

No parents…

No chaperones…

Sweaty bodies in the back of a car…

Lips meshing…

Fierce jealousy and an unexpected tide of anger ripple over me. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m placing my hand in Chase’s and allowing him to haul me to my feet. Sam Smith’s “Stay With Me” plays through the speakers as couples all around us sway together.

Chase’s eyes are bright with excitement behind his glasses as he tugs me against his chest. His hands go to the small of my back, only an inch or two above my butt, and my own hands instinctively twine around his neck as we sway to the beat.

Chase stares at me so intently that I feel heat crawling up my cheeks, licking at my skin like blistering flames. I have no idea what the heck to do with my eyes. Do I make eye contact? Focus on his chest? His cheeks? His lips?

I’m trembling in his arms with nerves, and that sensation only amplifies when his hands dip even lower, skimming over the swell of my ass. I practically jump a foot in the air, but his touch leaves me a second later, making me wonder if I imagined it in the first place.

“Lily…” Chase lowers his face until his forehead connects with mine. He’s so close now I can feel his hot breath wafting across my lips. And I hate myself for this—I honestly do—but I can’t help but remember another hot breath fanning across my face a second before his lips collided with my own.

Would I be nearly as awkward with Brooks as I am right now with Chase?

Would I be as desperate for the floor to swallow me whole if I were with Jackson or Orion?

I imagine Jackson would be making some smartass comment about all of the couples dancing while Orion would be staring intently into my eyes, his gaze unfettered and burning with emotions I can’t name. Brooks would no doubt be scowling at anyone and everyone, but when his eyes land on mine…I imagine they would soften. At least, they softened in my fantasies, and that’s all I can rely on. Fantasies.

Being with the Bellua brothers will never, ever become a reality for me.

The thought fills my heart with lead, and a frown touches my lips before I can contain it.

Chase’s thumb feathers against my lips, and I flinch automatically, causing his frown to deepen. Ugh. What’s the matter with me? “Lily, what’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It’s just…”

I’m missing three men I know I shouldn’t. I don’t want to be here with you, and that makes me a horrible person. I kissed my best friend the other day, and I desperately want to do it again. And again. And again.

“I’m just hot,” I lie, finally finding an excuse to step away. I fan myself dramatically as his brows crease with concern. “It’s super stuffy in here.”

“Do you want to step away for a little bit?” His eyes shadow with concern, and I remind myself that despite everything between the two of us, Chase has always been a friend to me. I may not get those damn butterflies in my stomach when I’m in his presence, but I trust him. Care for him, even.

Maybe if we get out of this room— away from all the decorations and sappy music and eyes boring into me— I’ll feel better.

I smile gratefully. “Please.”

A mischievous grin dances around the corners of Chase’s mouth as he grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. “Come on,” he says eagerly. “I know exactly where we can go.”

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