Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My face falls. Dance with him? I thought we were being funny.
Luke Combs starts singing from his phone—“Beautiful Crazy.” My feet shuffle backward toward the door, but when he holds a rough hand out to me, I instinctively accept it.
Shocks of pleasure run through my palm and fingers.
I try to stop my gulp mid-swallow and choke instead, cough into my elbow, try to clear my throat.
Could Austin … no. That’s impossible. So what does it mean?
When I regain lung function, I demand—more confidently than I feel—“You’re not going to avoid me again, are you? ”
A quiet no. A sweet smile. And then he tugs me closer, and I let my other hand land on his enormous shoulder.
At first he positions his other hand on my shoulder blade, but then he slides it to my lower back to pull me a step closer.
My back blazes along its trail. His foot guides between mine since we’re too close to be toe to toe.
The YouTube tutorial couple would not be happy.
No spinning and twirling and happy chaos like last time. He leads me in a curve between the desks, the tiniest steps and the gentlest touch. Although my lungs may not inflate, oxygen is still flowing. Is that how it goes? I know nothing right now.
His chin drifts to my temple as we glide around.
My eyes flutter closed—he can’t see me like this, okay?
I soak in the closeness with no regard for Future Sophie, who will be confused and crushed.
She’s dead to me. Muscles slide under my palm as he nudges me into a dainty spin.
Turn and a half out, turn and a half in.
When he pulls me back, Levi appears in the doorway.
I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t get a chance.
He grabs Kit’s bag, biting his lips together, and steps silently back out.
I know Austin spots him, because he straightens, and those blue-gray eyes turn sheepish. But he pulls me even closer until we’re nearly hugging. I’ve never been anywhere near here. This isn’t remotely friend-like. I can’t turn my head or I’d—
Nope. Can’t even go there.
My nerves are haywire. Too much to process—his hand steady around mine, the warmth of his palm on my back, the easy pressure guiding me closer.
The way his shoulder shifts under my fingers.
The space between us—barely there. His weird and wonderful behavior.
His smell—clean, woodsy, like a campfire without the smoke.
The way he’s watching me, relaxing under my hands like … like he wants this.
The end of the song, and I lose any chill that remained.
What’s gotten into him? Why did he avoid me half the night at the dance hall but dance with me in his room?
Is this non-friend stuff a onetime thing, or is there hope for the impossible?
Should I lock that dangerous thought in the closet, like the Dursleys with Harry Potter?
I yank my hands away and stumble back—too far, too fast. My leg shoots out to catch my balance, landing me in a reverse lunge.
“What?” He steps to the desk to stop the music. “You’re a good dancer. It was fun the first time.”
“Right. Sure. Yeah. Okay.” Wow, could I stutter any more?
I grab a piece of hair. Stop, no hair twirling.
Spontaneous combustion is a thing, right?
Pretty sure that’s happening to me right now.
I try to stand like a human but shift my weight.
I don’t know how to be normal right now. This is so far from our usual.
Austin, on the other hand, has fully transitioned to cool with a side of naughty. Like Ferris Bueller meets Jughead. He saunters back and drops onto his couch, tilting his head for me to join him.
His arm drapes over the back again when I sit down. I love it when he does that. His hairy bear arm can protect me.
“Truth or dare?” I ask.
“Truth.”
Okay, I can handle this part. We can talk about anything. Except that. Anything but that. “What’s your love language?”
“Wait, my love language?” His eyes flick between mine, as if he can read something there. “What are my options again?”
“Words of affirmation, acts of service”—I count on my fingers—“gifts, quality time, physical touch.”
“Quality time.” Intense face, pensive voice. “Truth or dare?”
“Hold on. Is that what you give or receive?”
His face relaxes again, and his brows raise teasingly. “You’re trying to cheat. It’s one question, Spar…” He trails off.
“You were just unclear.” I shrug my shoulders innocently, smile playing on my cheeks.
“Quality time for both, I think.” His knee nudges mine. “Maybe some service or words of affirmation. You’re already a good friend.”
I graze his arm. “Back at ya.”
Are we closer now? I don’t know who moved.
He smiles back at me with the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen.
I know I shouldn’t look at them, but my boundaries are slipping in this alternate reality.
They’re so full and … juicy. The lips are talking, but I don’t know what they’re saying.
My head shake does little to clear it. “Sorry, what?”
So cool. So naughty. “Can I guess yours? It’s not your truth for the game, so either way.”
Just gotta reboot my brain really quick. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them. Helps a little. It’s just Austin. But tonight he’s Wildly Confusing Austin—a guy who dances with me like I’m precious. Who stands too close and doesn’t say words and looks into my soul.
I reset with a breath. No. It’s just Austin. Like Just Ken. This is fine.
“Sure,” I manage.
“You seem to really like when someone plans something fun for you, like Kit’s birthday movie. So that would be service.”
And his incredible creek adventure. Big yes. Massive yes. All the times he’s washed my Jeep. How he snags a plate of what I’ll want if it’s running low at Saga. Collects everything I lose and returns it to me—hair ties, phone, keys. My breaths go shallow.
“And do you give quality time too?” he asks. “And maybe a side of physical touch?”
He knows. He knows me.
He knows how I feel about him?
I spend as much time as I can with him. He’s one of the few people I touch, and I touch him a lot.
He’s the most important person in the world to me.
And to make matters worse, this game of truth or dare has been a string of fun things.
It’s going to ruin me, but I can’t manage to stop. Future Sophie’s problem.
“Nailed it,” I squeak. “Very impressive there, pal. So what’s my real truth?”
His eyes drill into mine, his body perfectly still but for his chest moving with his breaths.
I poke his leg. “What is it?” His arm, his shoulder. “What’s your question? What are you gonna ask?” I have to poke lightly lest I hurt my finger on his rock-hard muscles.
A girl voice carries down the hall. Maybe Mia.
Breaking into a grin, he pokes me back with every word. “So - impatient - I’m - thinking.” Leg - arm - stomach - leg.
Curling in laughter, I reach to grab his side, where he’s most ticklish.
He catches my hand gently. “Nice try.”
My hand is so happy in his. It will disown me if I dare pull it away.
I bravely try harder to reach his side as he squirms and laughs.
He tugs my hips onto his lap and tickles my sides.
I’ve never been here before. Big no-no. I love it too much.
He curls around me, his laughing breath warm against my neck.
That deep voice fills my ear. Sorry, Future Sophie.
He effortlessly scoops me out of his lap, stands up, turns around, and drops me onto the couch.
My laughter dies in my throat. Pretty Redhead stands in the doorway, loose curls tumbling over the shoulder of a short winter dress. My stomach lurches. What is she doing here? No.
The doorframe stands like a picture frame to exaggerate her beauty. It says, Here she is! Pay attention!
I need to get out. Now. What was I thinking?
Her arms cross, eyebrows high, tongue going to her teeth in annoyance. “Are you coming to study group or …”
“Hey, Lily. No, I—”
“Okay! Bye! It was fun!” My best imitation of a peppy voice won’t fool Austin, but it might fool her.
He grabs my hand, silently asking me to stay, but I jerk it free. I have to outrun Future Sophie. So I bolt out of the room—Lily steps aside—and down the stairwell nearest this end of the hall. It’s a longer distance to my building this way, but anything to get out of this place.
Sprinting full force across the grass, I’m an Olympian. No, Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride. Someone get me a horse.
A reel runs behind my eyes as I careen like a madwoman. Grin, gorilla, dance, surprise, tickling, Lily. I swipe at my forehead. Can’t compute.
What can I do tonight? Something to keep my mind engaged. What could possibly distract me from the last half hour?
My heart nears a reasonable beat as I badge into my building and plow through the stairwell. I pull my phone out to see what’s going on around campus. I’m sure I can join whatever Mia’s doing, especially if I send her an SOS text—
Ding. It’s Austin.
Oh no.
My brain slams the door.
But my heart sends a fruit basket.