Page 25 of Light My Fire Three Times
It’s painful, but not the pain that makes me want to run away, more like the kind that leaves me feeling warm and confused and way too aware of every single thing he does.
We lost the first round by a lot. Not that I care about the game. At all.
I’m distracted by the fact that Jesse’s elbow is practically grazing mine at every turn, and his low words keep sliding into my ear, so close I can feel it vibrating in my bones.
“Alright, team Livvy and Jesse,” Freddie says, practically cackling as Mitchell high-fives him. “You guysreallyknow how to lose with style.”
Jesse shoots me a look, eyebrow raised.
“Are you sure you know how to play?” he teases.
I laugh, trying to mask how flustered I feel. “I’ve got moves. You just wait.”
His eyes never leave me, and for a split second, it’s like the whole world fades away.
It’s just me and him, sitting across the table, and for some reason, every little thing he does—moving the game pieces, reaching for a card—is the most fascinating thing in the room.
It’s this tiny, insidious thing in the back of my brain telling me:You don’t want this to end.
But the round continues. And we lose again. Shocking, I know. But at least I can pretend I was paying attention. Except, nope. Not really.
The more I try to focus, the more I get distracted. And every time I look at Jesse, I’m pretty sure he’s doing this on purpose.
He knows exactly what he’s doing, leaning in just a little too close, making my heart race with every musical laugh or little touch.
“I think we’re out of our league,” I whisper to him during a quiet moment, leaning back in my chair as I pretend to make a strategic move.
“Definitely,” he says, that teasing grin spreading across his face like it’s just another day at the office for him.
I roll my eyes, but I’m secretly relieved when the game ends, mostly because I’m pretty sure I can’t handle much more of this.
I may have lost the game, but in that moment, I’m not sure I care about anything else other than the fact that I’m sitting here with Jesse, trying my absolute hardest not to let him notice that I can’t think straight when he’s this close.
The tension that’s been building between me and Jesse has reached the point where it feels like I might burst. Every laugh, every touch, every moment spent near him has left me a little more flustered than I want to admit.
“I need a moment,” I blurt out, desperate for some space to collect myself.
I stand up a little too fast, almost knocking the chair over in my haste.
“Bathroom?” Jesse asks, dripping with that same teasing, easy tone that has my pulse skipping.
I nod quickly.
“Yeah, bathroom,” I mumble, already turning toward the hallway before he can see the red creeping up my neck. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t even check to see if anyone’s watching as I hurry down the narrow hall, my thoughts racing. I need air. I need space. I need tothink.
The bathroom’s just a few feet away, but as I pass the hallway closet, I freeze when I hear footsteps behind me.
Jesse, just barely above a whisper, calls out, “Livvy, wait.”
I turn around, and somehow, in the span of half a second, we’re standing there, alone. The house is quiet now.
Everyone else is still in the living room, busy with the competition. It’s just the two of us, and that familiar heat between us is suddenly more intense.
“Jesse,” I murmur, trying to calm my breathing, but it’s like my body has decided to act on its own.
He’s too close.
