Chapter 4 Sparks Fly
Sparks Fly
Ali
The bass from the party thumped through the floorboards of the old Tau Delta house, vibrating up through Ali’s sneakers as if her body was just another part of the beat.
She stood near the wall, inching closer to the front door with each passing minute.
Her fingers tugged at the hem of the shorts under the skirt part of her skort— again.
They kept riding up, the clingy fabric twisting uncomfortably high on her thighs.
She crossed her arms. Uncrossed them. Crossed them again.
The air was heavy with the smell of beer, body spray, and too many boys in one space.
Her messy bun was failing her now, strands falling loose and sticking to her neck, frizzing out in the humid coastal night.
She swiped at them absently, blinking through the fog of noise and movement and too many eyes.
She shouldn’t have come.
Daisy was off somewhere flirting with the starting kicker from the team. Daisy would be annoyed when she realized Ali was looking for a way out. Her chest felt tight. Like the walls were too close and the music too loud and the lights too sharp.
She was three feet from the door when she felt a hand wrap gently around her forearm.
She froze.
“Hey,” Dylan said.
She turned. Slowly. His voice was soft and calm— completely at odds with the chaos around them. And he was holding out a red Solo cup.
“I figured you could use a Coke Zero,” he said, grinning. “Not spiked. Promise.”
She blinked at him, surprised.
“Dylan—”
“You were about to ghost,” he said, stepping closer, his tone teasing but not unkind. “C’mon. We’re not letting you escape that easily.”
She gave a half-hearted smile and looked toward the door again.
“Five minutes,” he offered, nodding toward the porch. “Just fresh air. I’ll even keep an eye on your skort so it doesn’t try to strangle you again.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not— how do you even know about that?”
“I have a sister. And eyes,” he said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “You keep tugging at it like it owes you money.”
That startled a laugh out of her. Just a small one.
Without waiting for her answer, he opened the front door and led the way outside. The porch was quieter, the cool breeze a welcome relief. He dropped down onto the wooden porch swing and patted the seat next to him.
She hesitated. Swallowed hard. That swing creaked under normal people. She wasn’t sure she wanted to risk the embarrassment.
He caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“Ali,” he said gently, “if I can bench three hundred pounds and sit on this swing without it snapping, I think you’re good.”
Her heart beat louder than the music now. But she gave in, slowly lowering herself beside him.
“There we go,” he said, draping his arm casually across the back of the swing. “See? No structural damage.”
Ali rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.
They sat like that for a beat—just the creak of the swing, the far-off sound of cheers from the backyard, and the faint smell of the bay drifting in with the breeze.
“You looked like you were having fun tonight,” he said quietly. “Cheering and all that.”
She looked at him sideways. “I wasn’t exactly front and center.”
“I noticed anyway.”
Her stomach flipped. She took a sip of her Zero to cover it.
“I’m glad you stayed,” he added, his fingers brushing her shoulder lightly. “This party would’ve sucked without you.”
And for once, she didn’t try to deflect it with sarcasm or self-deprecation.
She just said, “Thanks.”
The knock came just as Ali was slipping on her sneakers.
She froze, laces still undone, hair damp from the shower she’d rushed through ten minutes earlier. It was already 7:40, and she was going to have to haul ass to get to her 8am on time.
Daisy groaned from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from her mouth. “Can you get that?”
Ali padded to the door and cracked it open.
Dylan stood there holding two iced coffees and a paper bag.
He grinned. “Morning. I come bearing caffeine and carbs.”
Her heart did a full somersault. She blinked, momentarily stunned.
“I—uh—”
Daisy came up behind her, spitting toothpaste into a water bottle like it was an everyday occurrence. “DYLAN! Ugh, you’re literally a hero. Is that cinnamon swirl?”
He handed her the bag. “Two cinnamon swirls and a ham and cheese croissant. I guessed.”
Daisy gave him a quick hug and slung her backpack on without hesitation. “You walking us to class?”
“If you don’t mind,” he said, glancing once at Ali. “Thought I’d get some steps in.”
Daisy was already halfway down the hall.
Ali, on the other hand, still hadn’t moved. She could feel her pulse behind her knees. She tied one shoe. Fumbled the laces on the other. Then finally stood, brushing invisible lint from her biker shorts like that would ground her.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she mumbled, taking the one labeled with a messy Ally on the side. They never spelled her name right.
He smiled, his eyes warm. “Of course.”
But she couldn’t look at him for too long. Not after yesterday…
They’d all crammed into Dylan’s Jeep Wrangler for the drive to Honeyshore, the doors off and the radio blasting. Dylan drove. Daisy sat shotgun. Ali took the backseat.
She wasn’t expecting him to keep checking the rearview mirror. Not like that. Not like she was the most interesting part of the trip.
Every time their eyes met, her stomach dipped like the road beneath them had disappeared.
At dinner, seated at the long, weathered table with fried chicken and cornbread, Dylan sat directly across from her. And she swore—swore— he kept brushing her knee with his under the table. It could’ve been an accident. Except it happened more than once.
And each time she’d look up, startled, he was already looking at her. Heat blooming in his cheeks. And something else too— something sharp and curious and unmistakably interested.
Daisy hadn’t noticed a thing. She’d been too busy gabbing about her Communications class and asking if she could borrow Dylan’s Jeep for the Jekyll Island trip next weekend.
But Ali had noticed everything.
She adjusted the strap on her backpack as they made their way down the sidewalk, side by side. Dylan didn’t push, didn’t tease. Just walked next to her, sipping his coffee like this was normal.
Like he hadn’t been secretly flirting with her under his mama’s kitchen table.
“Sleep okay?” he asked casually.
She nodded. “You?”
He smiled. “Eventually.”
She nearly tripped on the curb.