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“Asshole,” she growls.
Chase throws a palm out innocently. “What did I do?”
“You laughed,” she accuses.
I snicker and then rise from my seat. “I’ll be at the bar, getting a refill, if you want me.”
“Sure,” Chase grumbles, “launch the grenade and then leave me to clean up the mess.”
“It’s your job now, remember?” I throw that over my shoulder as I’m walking off. But he’s already too busy sucking up to my sister to respond.
I lean against the bar as the bartender replaces my old glass with a new one, filled with ice and a fresh pour.
“Come here often?” a familiar voice purrs over my shoulder.
I shift until I’m welcoming Mads into my space. I take a sip of the bourbon and eye her over the rim of the glass. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat and the dancing.
“Often?” I murmur. “No.” I reach out until my fingertip is trailing along her collarbone. Her skin pebbles beneath my touch. It’s good to see a few weeks hasn’t diminished her receptiveness to me. “But I think coming here was definitely worth the effort.”
“Oh, yeah?” she says somewhat breathlessly. “And why is that?”
“Because anywhere you are is where I want to be.”
“I’ve been here the whole time,” she says, her eyes searching between both of mine.
“You weren’t around much the night before I left.”
Those ocean eyes divert to the side.
I dip until she meets my stare again. “What was that about?”
“I didn’t know how to say goodbye.” Her voice is so low that it emerges like a whisper.
“It wasn’t goodbye,” I argue softly. “It was more a see you soon.”
“It didn’t feel like that at the time,” she admits. “You were mad at me.”
“I was,” I agree. “I’m going to get angry sometimes. Probably a lot with the way you’re always pissing me off.” She narrows her eyes, and I smirk. “That doesn’t automatically mean goodbye when we argue.”
“But you don’t do messy,” she argues.
I can tell she wants me to counter her argument. She wants me to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s different. That we’re different. And we are. I guess this is her subtle way of asking for reassurance. For the first time, I’m ready to give it to her. Because even a few short weeks away was more distance than I ever want again.
“I didn’t do a lot of things before you came along.” I tip my glass for another drink. “But you seemed to blow all that to shreds this summer.”
I set my glass on top of the bar and take a step closer, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes are wide as she stares up at me. She looks so innocent and so beautiful. She looks like … mine.
Something loosens inside my chest.
“What do you want?” I murmur.
“What do you want?” she counters.
If she needs me to say it first, to take that leap for both of us, I will. “I want you.”
Three words.
Two breaths.
