Page 107 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“Oh, we will!” Alex sounded way too sure of himself—considering the fact that I was still as a statue beside him and certainly no longer having fun.

There was a knowing glint in my mother’s gaze that I didn’t want to think too much about. The wicked smirk she sported as Alex looped an arm around my shoulder and steered me away made me feel violated. Like I was naked out in the wild for all to see. It wasn’t nearly as bad as how I’d felt at the airport with Neil out in the open, but it was close enough.

My head was fuzzy.

Maybe it was shock?

Or maybe I was high now, too.

“You’re not high,” Alex chuckled, squeezing me even closer.

What the hell?

“Did you just read my mind?” I gaped. Alex was slightly damp, the summer air muggy enough to affect even someone as perfect as him. The way his body brushed mine with every step was riveting.

“Ha! I wish.No. But you’re pretty predictable once a guy knows what to look for. You barely breathed that entire time.” How the hell had he noticed that? He’d been flirting cookies out of my mom? Wow, that sounded weird. “At most, you’ll get a small contact high, but I doubt it.”

“You sure know a lot about drugs.” I wasn’t judging, except for the fact I was.

“Weed isn’t a drug.” Alex arched a brow. “It’s a plant.”

“Yes, well. I’ve never thought all that much about it, plant or not.” I didn’t pay attention to where Alex was leading us, too absorbed in my own thoughts. Had my parents always smoked? Had I simply never noticed? Or was this a recent development? Maybe it was…fun?

“It’s not that serious,” Alex rumbled softly against my ear. “Nothing to stress over, I promise you.” For a second, I’d zoned out enough I’d forgotten we’d been talking at all. Alex’s body heat was almost as comforting as his words, even if his close proximity also managed to light a fire low in my belly. “If it makes you feel better, my dad smokes. For medical purposes. It’s normal. Not anything to have an existential crisis about.”

“My parents were definitely not smoking for ‘medical purposes’,” I snorted, though I appreciated him trying to…I don’t know, comfort me?

Maybe I looked distressed.

“That’s true,” Alex shrugged. The motion rustled his cookies, and me, and it should’ve been annoying but I liked it. Liked the way he pressed into me solid and sure—possessive, almost. Liked how human he felt, especially when we touched.

I shivered.

“Cold?” Alex inquired, proving once again how very closely he paid attention to me. I wasn’t cold. But I nodded anyway, because it was easier than admitting how much he affected me, even when he wasn’t trying to.

“A bit,” I lied. A white lie. Nothing to offend his sensibilities.

“Mmm,” Alex’s hand was just the right amount of scratchy as he rubbed it over my shoulder and arm. Calluses on his palms. From what? I didn’t know. Weight-lifting maybe? Considering his physique. Or hockey. He’d said he liked hockey. I shivered again, and his pale eyes flickered with heat. Sinking into him, I let the atmosphere suck me in.

The crackle-pop of the fire a dozen yards away, the hoot-hoot of a lonely owl, and a cricket’s song, somehow loud enough it could be heard over therowdy crowd gathered between the kegs.

It wasn’t that I was dissociating or anything.

I was…distracted—but only by the present. The scent of Alex’s sweat beneath his cologne sucked into my lungs with every breath. He was solid and sure against my body. Proving to be a surprisingly pleasant companion despite how much he chatted with the people we passed by, and how many items he acquired along the way.

I was simply happy to go along for the ride.

To be the pretty thing on Alex’s arm, silent and content.

Even if that wasn’t where I’d thought the night would go.

It was a testament to how much I’d grown to like him that I didn’t mind all the people-ing.

It wasn’t until Alex had run out of space for his loot that I realized just how deftly he’d managed to flirt, wheedle, and trick his way through the crowd. By the time we had abandoned the bonfire and headed into the dark alongside the main cabin, Alex had been forced to let me go because his arms were simply too full to cling close.

He’d stolen a blanket from June—after she’d tried to smooch him.

Stolen a new bottle of wine from Roderick—who had also tried to smooch him. They’d been setting up a picnic of sorts near the back of the fire, which definitely should’ve been a clue—in hindsight—but it hadn’t been.

---