Page 12 of A Million To Fall

“That’s good because he obviously likes you.” She laughs. “He’s been, like, really marking his territory, huh?”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the hovering, the handholding, the way he stands just a smidge behind you like he’s guarding you from other guys.” She shrugs. “Total move to signal you’re taken.”

I’m taken?

I thought tonight was just… a date. But maybe the bracelet really is as big as it seems?

“Oh,” I say, caught off guard by how official it suddenly feels.

“Yep, you really hit the jackpot.” She sighs. “Meanwhile I am very much not taken. But now that my best friend’s off the market, I’m definitely making my move on Boston.”

My boot catches and I stumble, suddenly incapable of walking.

“You alright?” Lily asks with a hand on my elbow.

“Yeah, just clumsy.” I clear my throat. “So, you didn’t ask Boss out tonight?”

She groans. “He was hanging with Pace and Jon all night. I panicked.”

I noticed that—how Boston just kind of drifted off and I didn’t catch another glimpse of him after the kitchen encounter. “Yeah. Okay, well, just… I don’t know, move slow, I guess?”

“Move slow?” She huffs a laugh. “Okay, Mrs. Archer Longfellow with her fancy Tiffany’s bracelet on the first date. Didn’t realize you were suddenly some dating expert.”

I snort. “Ew, no. Don’t call me that!”

She laughs again. “I gotta head out, Mrs. Longfellow. Talk to you tomorrow.”

I wave after her, then turn toward the patio and immediately slam into a wall of warmth and hoodie.

I gasp.

“Shit. Sorry,” Boston says, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders.

My heart hammers in my chest, not only from our collision. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t see you.”

He grins. “I’m easily missed.”

“Oh yeah, you’re such a dainty little wallflower.” I playfully swat his chest.

His gray eyes meet mine and everything else fades—the music, the chatter, even the weight of the bracelet around my wrist.

I blink, pretending not to feel that flutter low in my stomach. “Have you seen Archer, by any chance?”

His jaw flexes, but he nods. “He’s out there.”

“Thanks.” I will my feet onward, but Boston stops me.

“Hey, Stormy, can I ask you something?”

There it is again—his nickname for me.

He started calling me that after his dad died and I went full wrath-of-God on a kid who said something cruel. Boston said I looked meaner than a storm cloud.

Stormy stuck.

I nod. “Sure.”