Page 18 of Only in Your Dreams

And land half-upright into something solid and warm, hands coming around to steady me by the hips.

“Easy,” Zac says behind me, voice all deep and smooth and painfully familiar.

Every part of me thrums with awareness, body tensing and relaxing at the same time. I’ve never felt him like this, not even back in school. The closest we’d ever gotten were those few seconds in my bedroom, when he stood so close and looked at me like there’d been nowhere else he’d have rather been.

I realize I’m sinking into him. I should not be sinking into him, trying to see if he still smells like he did back then, all musky from that body wash—

“Oops,” I say, jerking out of his hold. I smooth out my hair.

“You doing alright, Mels?” Summer asks from across the fire.

“I’m fine,” I say breathlessly, rolling back my shoulders as though it’ll shake off the effect of Zac’s body pressed into mine. Erase the goose bumps covering my skin underneath my sweater.

That was…

My toes curl in my sneakers. He’s no longer touching me. But Zac continues standing behind me, eyes burning into my back, a barrier between me and the fire.

I clear my throat. “I need some water.”

On barely steady legs, I go for the cooler just as Brooks moves to help. We crash into each other, and because this moment truly wants to go from bad to worse, the momentum jostles his beer out of his hand so that it lands on his sneakers, spills over the hem of his sweats in a fizzy stream.

My stomach drops. Heart leaps into my throat.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say in a rush.

You’re such a fucking klutz, Melly.

I drop to my knees, catching the can, but by now the damage is done. It’s empty, its entire contents now covering the bottom of Brooks’s pants, soaking his socks and shoes.

Panic rises. The muscles in my shoulders stiffen painfully as I stare at my mess. “I am so sorry…”

“Hey, it’s okay—”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry—”

I pull my shirt sleeve over my hand and dab frantically at his shoes, heart pounding, trying to soak up the beer.

“Mels—”

“I’m—I’m…”

I can’t breathe. My eyes prickle with tears.

Such a fucking klutz.

My breath catches in my throat, but my lungs can’t seem to stop trying to expel air, and it all builds up in my chest, excruciating and painful, doubling my panic. I pat Brooks’s ankles, blood rushing in my ears, eyes prickling.

I’m—why can’t I breathe—

“Melody.”

It takes me a moment to realize Zac is crouching beside me. I freeze, lift my chin. Watch the alarm in his face fade into sheer uneasiness. An entire eternity seems to pass, and it’s just us staring at each other, noses close together. And then I let out a labored gasp, or maybe it’s a sob, and Zac reaches for me, raking back my hair with his fingers and cupping the nape of my neck.

“Breathe, Clover.”

It’s long but inaudible over the rushing wind. And as soon as that air hits my lungs, my heart steadies out. I suck in a breath, and then another, and my muscles unclench.

What the hell was that?

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