Page 29 of From Air

“Do you think you should at least exchange numbers with the music teacher before we go?” She follows me to the stairs.

I ignore her.

Gary’s bushy eyebrows slide up his forehead when I reach the main level. I nod and give him a tight grin. This is the earliest I’ve left one of his parties.

“Oof!”

I turn, and Jamie’s on the floor.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” Travis, another smoke jumper, cringes. “I didn’t mean to back into you.”

“It’s fine.” I scoop her off the ground and into my arms. “She drank too much.”

“My jacket,” she mutters while squirming.

“It’s by the door.” I tighten my grip on her wiggly body. When we reach the entry, Gary’s waiting for us. “It’s the white one.” I nod to her jacket.

“Thanks for coming.” He drapes the jacket over her.

“You’re going to drop me,” Jamie whines when I step onto the porch.

“I carry a hundred and fifty pounds of equipment for miles in the heat of summer. I think I can manage to carry your drunk ass to the street without dropping you. Where are the keys?”

“Oh, look. A full moon.” She tips her head back and grins in the crisp air of the windless night as I descend the driveway to the desolate street. “Did you know that a white moon cycle results in higher rates of boy babies? That’s when you’re ovulating during a full moon.”

“I haven’t ovulated during a full moon, but sometimes I turn into a werewolf.”

She giggles. “I would love that so much. Calvin the werewolf.”

“Get your keys out so I can drive.”

“You’re drunk. I’m your driver.”

I laugh. “Cute. But no. Tonight’s not my night to die or kill anyone else.” I set her on her feet at the Jeep and hold out my hand.

“No. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“No.You’vehad too much to drink.”

A slow grin creeps up her face before she clenches my shirt and rests her forehead on my chest. Her body shakes with laughter.

“You’resowasted,” I say under my breath.

“Why won’t you believe me?” She laughs. It’s more like a cackle.

I cup her face and kiss her—notbecause I want to kiss her. It’s to prove a point.

When her warm lips start to move against mine, I nearly forget the point.

I nearly forget I shouldn’t want to kiss her.

So I end it before it ends something in me, like all my common sense. Her hands fly to my wrists, eyes flared.

“See? If you were sober, you wouldn’t have let me kiss you,” I say.

Shock continues to paralyze her expression. Is she breathing?

A car drives past us, its musty exhaust lingering while the brakes squeak as it slows down to pull into the driveway.

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