Page 59 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Fair point.”

Then he kisses me.

It’s filthy—literally. I taste dirt and him, and his hands are on my face, smearing more mud as he pulls me closer. I kiss him back just as desperately, all the adrenaline from the jump converting into something hot and urgent. I don’t care that we’re lying in a marsh. I don’t care that I probably look like a swamp creature. All I care about is the way his mouth moves against mine, hungry and claiming.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“I should probably get that last clip,” I whisper.

“Probably.” He doesn’t move.

“And find somewhere to clean up.”

“Also a good idea.” He still doesn’t move.

“Cole?”

“Just give me one more second. I’m memorizing this.”

“Me covered in mud?”

“You…happy.” His thumb traces my cheekbone, leaving another streak of mud in its wake. “I want to remember this exact version of you.”

My heart flips in my chest. “That’s either very romantic or very creepy.”

“Can’t it be both?”

I laugh and finally manage to unclip us, rolling off him and into a fresh patch of mud. We struggle to our feet, the parachute dragging behind us like the world’s saddest ghost costume. I’m cold now, and wet, and completely disgusting.

And happy. Cole’s right. Quite possibly, I’ve never been happier.

Jack has landed and is waiting for us at the edge of the marsh by the time we get there, with towels and a look of profound amusement. “Landing zone’s usually dry this time of year.”

“No shit,” Cole says.

“Did you know it was wet?” I ask, instantly suspicious. His readiness with the towels is a little too convenient. The look in his eye tells me he knew exactly where we’d land—and what we’d land in.

“Could’ve.” Jack shrugs, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Jack.”

“Hailey.”

“Where did you get those towels?”

“The hangar.”

“How many did you bring?”

He lets an even wider grin spread across his entire face before he answers me. “A lot.”

“More than you’d typically bring for a non-muddy landing?”

Jack chuckles, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I was being prepared.”

“You’re a Boy Scout now?”

“I’m always prepared, Hailey. It’s part of my charm.”