Page 51 of The Summer We Played Pretend

“Crap.” I tug the label now on the outside of my t-shirt that should definitely be on the inside.

Chloe’s waiting for me downstairs and my dumb ass can’t even put a t-shirt on right.

I sigh and wince as I fumble with tugging the top over my head. It’s been a day. Work sucked, I scraped the burn on my hand, making me feel useless, Dad was in a mood, and now I can’t even put on a t-shirt the right way.

Having my hand bandaged again doesn’t help matters.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter, gritting my teeth as I awkwardly wrestle the shirt into place." I tug it over my head and the shirt catches on my elbow, twisting. "Seriously?"

A soft knock interrupts my internal pity party. "Jackson? You okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm good," I call back, my voice strained as I struggle. "Just—” I bit back a swear word.

The door creaks open and Chloe peeks in. Her eyes widen as she takes in my predicament—shirtless, tangled in fabric, looking like an idiot.

"Oh, Jackson," she says softly, stepping into the room. "Here, let me help."

"It's fine, I can manage," I protest weakly, even as Chloe approaches.

"Don't be silly," she chides, reaching for the shirt. Her fingers brush against my skin and I have to suppress a shiver. "You're going to hurt yourself even more if you’re not careful.”

“I’m not useless,” I mutter, feeling totally useless. “It’s just this stupid bandage keeps getting caught and—”

My words vanish when Chloe tugs the shirt down, her cool fingers brushing my skin. I watch her closely as her brow furrows in concentration. Her lashes skim cheeks and freckles dance across her nose. I want to kiss every one of those freckles—and maybe never stop.

She smooths the fabric, her hands lingering at the hem, her fingertips grazing my sides. The air feels charged, electric. I'm hyper-aware of her closeness, the scent of her floral perfume.

"Is that okay?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Chloe's gaze flicks up to mine and my throat tightens. She’s in my room. Alone.

It feels dangerous.

"Jackson?" she breathes, her hands now resting lightly on my chest.

I swallow hard. "Yeah?"

Time seems to stretch, the moment suspended between us. I can hear the distant hum of traffic from the main road, but it feels a world away. Right now, there's only Chloe, her warmth, her touch.

"I'm really glad it wasn’t worse," she finally says. “The burn that is. When I heard about the accident, I—”

"Hey," I say softly, covering her hand with my good one. "I'm fine. It's just a little burn.”

“I hate the thought of something happening to you.”

“I’m all good.”

“You know you can ask me for help when you need it.”

Help? God, the only thing I need right now is her. I nod though.

I don't consciously decide to move. It's like gravity pulls me toward her. My hand slides up her arm, coming to rest at the nape of her neck. Chloe's breath hitches, and I pause, giving her a chance to pull away.

She doesn't.

Instead, she leans in, closing the last bit of distance between us. Our lips meet, and it's like fireworks exploding behind my eyelids. Soft, warm, perfect. I lose myself in the sensation, in the taste of her, in the quiet sigh that escapes her.

The kiss deepens and I draw her close, lifting her from the floor as she loops her hands around my neck. We stumble a little and the backs of my legs hit the bed. I sink onto it, drawing her with me.

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