Page 62 of Touch the Sky
“Guess you’re the beautiful one, then.”
My breath catches.
“I think you’re…”
I cut myself off before I can do something stupid.
Like tell her I’ve lived here less than a month, and I already think she’s the most beautiful woman in this whole town.
“I mean, you look good too,” I amend, “in that outfit. Well,ouroutfit.”
She chuckles at that, and I remind myself it’s okay to tell your landlord you think she looks good.
It’s even okay to tell your friend she looks good, and that’s what Jacinthe and I are becoming.
Friends.
Justfriends.
She shifts closer, toying with the edge of her sleeve. Our eyes meet again. I can see the flames reflected in her dark irises, turning the deep brown to molten gold.
It’s like she’s liquefying, shifting into some new, forbidden form.
Or maybe I’m the one dissolving. Maybe I’m falling apart when it’s my job to be steady. Solid. Unmovable.
She’s not supposed to make me melt. No one is. That’s not what I’m here for.
“How’s that fire coming?”
One of Jacinthe’s uncles comes around the corner of the house, a pack of cousins in tow, and the two of us jerk back like we’ve been caught on top of each other. More people begin to file in, claiming the variety of seats for themselves, and I mumble something about getting a drink before taking off for the house.
Chapter 15
Jacinthe
Istare out the windshield, my eyes glued to the white line winding up the middle of the twisty highway. The truck’s headlights cut through the darkness like a tunnel, like we’re clearing a path into the night towards dawn.
Or something like that. I’m a little tipsy.
I’m tipsy enough that I couldn’t drive myself home, so I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Tess’s truck, doing everything I can to keep myself from looking at her.
I have one hand clutching the shoulder strap of my seat belt, the other resting a couple inches from the door handle, like I’m braced to jump out onto the asphalt. My jaw is clenched so tight my teeth are aching.
The radio is on, the volume low enough that I can’t make out the words of the song playing. I risk letting my eyes flick to the clock in the dashboard. The glowing blue numbers say it’s thirty-eight minutes past midnight.
“You good?”
Tess’s voice seems to boom through the silence even though she’s barely spoken above a murmur.
“Uh, yeah,” I stammer. “Why?”
She chuckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see she’s switched to driving with one hand.
She shouldn’t be allowed to do that. Everyone knows driving a truck with one hand is incredibly sexy. She does not have the right to sit slouched in her seat like that, thighs splayed open, the smooth material of the steering wheel gliding across her palm.
“Because you haven’t said a word the whole drive, and you’re holding onto your seat like it’s a rollercoaster.”
She pauses, and when I steal another glance at her, I see she’s frowning.
