Say You Swear

Sensing me near, she finds me over her shoulder.

She spins instantly, her body facing me now, a big, beautiful smile on her soft lips, but she doesn’t stop dancing. Her hips continue to sway as she beckons me with the crock of her finger, a gleam in her October eyes.

I make my way to her, slow and deliberate.

I want her to feel me coming.

I want her body to heat all over in anticipation.

I know it will.

Once I’m in reach, her soft little hand stretches out, asking for mine.

When I make her wait an extra second, her chin dips all shy-like, and if the glow of the fire wasn’t lighting her up, I’d get to witness the way she flushes pink for me.

I hop up into the bed of Brady’s truck, a smirk pulling at my lips as I take her hand in mind, but I don’t have to haul her to me. She steps in on her own and without a moment’s hesitation.

A little hazy from the beer and a half she’s treated herself to, she looks up at me, and I lift my thumb, freeing her bottom lip from her teeth. A closed mouth giggle works its way up her throat, and she pushes up on her toes, her hands loosely locking behind my neck.

“For the record,” she repeats my earlier words with a smile. “You can kiss me anywhere you want.”

I lift a brow at her playful words, but we both know what she means.

I can kiss her when I feel like it, no matter where we are, no matter who is around, and this girl… she’ll kiss me right back.

Unable to wait any longer, I push my hood off my head and dip down, covering her lips with my own.

She smiles against my mouth, her grip tightening. Her heavy inhale has me pulling back, but not before I press my teeth into her lower lip. She chuckles, opening her eyes to meet mine.

“Anymore and this would turn into something nobody else gets to see.” I press my thumb to her throat, my pulse jumping at the wild beat of hers.

Ari grins and starts rolling her hips again, so I follow her lead, bringing my hands down until they’re tucked into the back pockets of her shorts.

We’re dancing to the upbeat music, perfect for the bonfire, but I’m not even hearing it.

She mustn’t either, because her chin falls to my chest then, her soft whispers reaching my ear as she sings to herself, but the lyrics coming from her don’t match the ones from the speakers.

She’s listening to that internal jukebox of hers, singing along to the song looping in her mind, Luke Bryan’s Play It Again, and I couldn’t agree more.

I want to relive the night with her ten times over, and then do it again. And again. It’s simple and small, but it’s perfect.

She is perfect.

Ari pulls back, so she can look up at me, the golden flecks in her eyes catching against the moonlight and reflecting against my own. It may as well be only her and me up here.

She’s all I see.

My Juliet.

Chapter 25

Arianna

* * *

Morning comes quickly and early, as it always does out here. Late fall or not, the sun beams against the mesh of tents, demanding your eyes open to appreciate the space around you.

Thankfully, last night wasn’t too late of one and that’s because pretty much every single person here plays on the team—minus the girls—so they were barely hanging on when they first arrived. The mountains, though, always offer a second wind, which they ate up, only to crash twice as hard once their buzzes wore down.

“Thank god Brady is smart and only put out half the beer last night.” Cameron yawns, flicking on the generator.

“You mean thankfully he learned from experience to hide alcohol or be ready for a sober night two?” I laugh, arranging a few logs into the dead firepit.

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Cameron gets the coffee going while I take an empty Corona box over to the pile of brush, scooping some up and tossing it over the logs to help kickstart it.

“Smart.”

I look up and over my shoulder, smiling at Noah. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He grins, looking around and coming back with the long-wicked lighter.

He crouches beside me, but hands it over, and I glide it beneath the brush, between the logs.

“Camp a lot, huh?” He watches.

“Four or five times a year, yeah. More if you count all the times we put up a tent on the sand at the beach house,” I share. “It was always funny when we’d head to the mountains because my dad would have me help him collect wood or climb the ladder to hang the towel line while Mason would be cracking eggs for my mom or helping her peel potatoes.” I pause, chuckling as I look at Noah. “Now that I think about it, they were probably afraid I’d somehow burn the forest down if I helped with the cooking.”