Page 27 of Fight Or Flight

“That’s Mrs. P.”

Natalie squinted at her. “I think she was my English teacher.”

“She was Adams English teacher, too.”

Natalie’s sharp little nose scrunched up. He looked closer and noticed how warm and glowing her tan skin was. And she had the tiniest sprinkling of freckles just over the tops of her cheeks.

He cleared his throat. “How long did you live in Mapleton?”

“I moved here in November of grade twelve.”

“And you became friends with Amy?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said.

“Why were you surprised to see Lindsay at Amy’s wedding?”

Natalie’s head tilted up, causing her long hair to slide down and tickle the back of Ethan’s hand. “Amy is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. And Lindsay was horrible to her.” Natalie looked over at Amy, then back at him. “It doesn’t surprise me that Amy would forgive her, but I still hate it. I don’t enjoy seeing good people taken advantage of.”

“But bad people?”

Natalie’s smile flashed. “Fuck ’em.”

Well, at least there was a moral code, no matter how grey, buried under all the animal abuse. Maybe he could work with that. Ethan cleared his throat. “Actually, she didn’t forgive Lindsay, I don’t think. Lindsay’s here because of me.”

She tilted her head to the side, like a confused puppy, waiting.

“I, uh, dated Lindsay.”

“Okay . . .that actually raises more questions than it answers.”

“I broke up with her after Amy invited her as my plus one. She brought Derek last minute.”

“Wow. That is some audacity.”

Ethan let himself laugh. “Yes, well, she’s always been rather—”

Natalie stopped dancing abruptly and stiffened, cutting his thought short. Her eyes popped open, and she looked down. He followed her gaze down and saw the top of her dress slipping down her chest.

“Shit!” she whispered, then jolted forward, latching her warm body onto his. “My dress just broke.”

Ethan looked down at her neck. Sure enough, one of the tiny straps had broken off and was dangling down her back amongst her hair.

“Can you fix it?” she asked, panic leaking through her voice.

“Uh . . .”

He leaned over her shoulder and brought his arms around her back. There was too much hair to see anything, so he gently gathered up the soft strands and laid them over her opposite shoulder. She tilted her head to the side, and he followed the string down her incredibly smooth, bare back to where it broke off right at the edge of the dress. He had to remind himself to breathe.

“It broke away from the dress. I can’t reattach it.”

“Bloody fucking— Can you tie it to the other strap?”

He took the strings, trying to ignore the soft warmth radiating off her, and crossed them over twice before pulling tight. It only took a second, thank God.

“Done.”

She tentatively pulled back, looking down. “Oh, that’s not too bad.”

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