Page 67 of How You See Me
The next song kicks in, and she marches up to me, grabs my hand, and drags me to my feet before I can argue.
I let her. Of course, I do.
The beat hooks me, and soon, I catch myself moving too. Not like her—free and fluid—but enough. She spins under my arm, her fingers linked with mine and short dress billowing. Flashes of all that smooth, tan skin distracts me enough that I don’t see her boot snagging on the blanket until she crashes into me. I catch her on instinct with my free arm, hers landing on my chest.
A rush of something sharp and demandingwinds through me, making it impossible to breathe right. My skin buzzes under her touch, and I’m solid everywhere, fighting the instinct to drag her closer. No matter how badly I wish she didn’t affect me so easily, I can’t stop myself from embracing the tension and her.
I hold on to her tighter than I should, one arm banded around her waist, the other gripping her hand. Her hair brushes my chin, smelling of sunshine and cheap beer and every bad idea I’ve had since we met.
The concert fades to nothing, and all I can process is every detail about her. The amber flecks in the dark pools of her eyes, the line of freckles across her nose, the blushon her cheeks, the rapid pace of her pulse under my fingertips.
More flares sear through me as she absorbs my intensity instead of pushing me in a direction. It’s exactly what I need to keep my cool. My hand is another story. It presses to her back, daring gravity to take her again just to keep her against me.
I want to bury my face in her neck, taste the salt on her skin where it’s flushed and warm. But I don’t move. Don’t trust myself to. If I shift now, I might follow through on that desire, and it wouldn't be just a kiss. It’ll be a reckless fire I can’t put out. And I can’t have her going down in flames with me.
It’s safer to continue swaying, letting her lead. Her hips brush against mine in time with the ballad. It’s probably innocent. Probably. For my sanity, I choose to believe that.
But then her head drops to my chest, reminding me how well she fits there, and I lose my bearings. I’m not someone who overlooks their surroundings. Yet, the feel of her rocking against me, holding me, steadying me has my full attention.
The orange sky bleeds into indigo over the next two songs, but I barely notice. I’m enjoying the moment as best I can when a familiar voice rings out beside us.
A cool rush of air crosses my chest as Josie jumps back.
Melody, the country artist everyone came to see, stands two feet away. After she finishes the last note of the song, her mossy eyes trickle to us, a slow developing smile tugging into place.
“Well, hell,” she says into the microphone with a drawn-out twang. Her painted fingernail waves between Josie and me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever’s going on here.”
Josie gasps, excitement making her wiggle and bounce, but all I can think about is the entire crowd zeroing in on the three of us. The muscles in my back tense. My fists clench at my sides. Where in the hell are Melody’s bodyguards?
“I came down here for a bit of crowd energy,” she says, chuckling, “but y’all are putting off a totally different vibe.” Her hand fans her face. “Lordy. I hope some of that spark rubs off on me.”
Josie’s hands pop up to her mouth, move to cover her stomach, then back to her face again.
“You all right, darling?” Melody asks.
Josie nods, and Melody’s gaze follows my arm to where it instinctively went to Josie’s back. I had no idea that I’d reached for her and lower it fast.
“I bet you are. Don’t stop on my account. It looked like too much fun. Great boots, by the way.” She winks then disappears into the crowd.
All eyes follow her, and my body disengages.
“That was Melody James,” Josie whispers.
“I know.”
“Hayes. That was—”
“Melody James. I’ve been here all night, remember?”
She shoves me, laughing at my lack of enthusiasm. “Best. Day. Ever.”
“I got that message.”
Shaking my head, I settle back onto the blanket. Though the moment has fractured, the remnants of what exchanged between us still hang in the air. It’s dulled due to the injection of excitement, but that’s probably for the best.
???
Hours later, the crowd spills out in every direction. The concert is over, but Josie’s humming under her breath as if music still plays through the speakers. I’m doing everything I can to watch out for reckless drunks, vehicles, and snakes along our path, absolutely anything but acknowledging the way her hand brushes mine every few steps.
