We decided on the Pete Davidson movie, and everyone seemed to be into it. It was set in Staten Island, New York. I loved any movie set in or around New York City. One of my dreams had once been to live there, even if just for a couple of years to experience something that was the polar opposite of Florida.

At one point in the middle of the film, Jace stood up and grabbed Linnea’s empty bowl, piling it atop his. He reached out to me, and I handed him my bowl as well. He was thoughtful like that sometimes. Jace didn’t bother grabbing Nathan’s bowl, though, which was on the floor next to my brother’s feet.

Jace returned holding two bottles of beer and handed one to Linnea. This time when he sat down, he was much closer to my side than before. In fact, I could practically feel the warmth emanating from his body. The fine blond hairs on my legs stood at attention. If I shifted my thigh just a couple of inches in his direction, my leg would be up against his.

Then, about a half-hour later, Jace stretched his leg out. His knee now happened to be grazing my thigh. I didn’t dare move. Instead, I enjoyed the feel of his hard knee through the denim of his jeans. This was okay, I told myself, as he was the one who’d shifted in my direction.

From where she sat on the other side, I wasn’t sure if Linnea had noticed my leg was touching Jace’s. Was it a coincidence when she repositioned her body to be closer to him? Maybe I was ballsier than I thought, because as soon as she did that, I did the same—moved just a hair closer so a bit more of my leg pressed against his. If he hadn’t realized that our legs were touching before, there was no way he didn’t know now. Yet he didn’t shift away from me.

The fact that he stayed put likely didn’t mean anything. But still. He stayed in the same position for ten whole minutes. Trying to figure out what it meant was likely going to consume me later, but for now, I pretended to watch the movie, pretended like my entire body wasn’t on fire.

After the movie finished, Jace grabbed his keys. “Ready to leave?”

Linnea stretched and yawned. “Yup.”

“You coming back tonight?” Nathan asked.

“Nah. Probably gonna sleep at her place.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Linnea said goodbye, but Jace never made eye contact with me before he left. My delusional mind proceeded to create a story in which he felt guilty for enjoying the contact of my leg.

I guess I should’ve been happy that he went to her place. The last thing I wanted was to hear anything happening in his room. But all night, the memory of Jace’s leg pressed against mine continued to torment me. And I couldn’t stop thinking about what he might have been doing with Linnea. She got to lie next to him, to be held. As attracted to Jace as I was, if given a choice between getting to have sex with him once or just being held all night, I wasn’t sure which I would choose.

Okay. Sex would probably win.

I’d slept with two people in my life, but neither was someone I truly cared about. Maybe that’s why I’d never fantasized about being held by either of them. My first time was with my prom date my junior year of high school. It was a miserable and painful experience, and we never even went out again after that. The second person I slept with was my one and only serious boyfriend, Jordan. We’d broken up a few years ago when he got a scholarship to an out-of-state school. I couldn’t blame him for leaving, but it had hurt all the same.

My thoughts returned to Jace, and I tossed and turned all night—my body still on fire.

Chapter 3

* * *

Farrah

The next time I encountered Jace was a few days later. It was still the afternoon, so I was surprised to see him home from work already.

He had his head in his hands as he stared down at the kitchen table.

Something is wrong. “Hey,” I said.

He looked up, his eyes tired. “Hey.”

I couldn’t remember the last time he’d seemed so down. My heart sank. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “What’s wrong?”

Jace let out a long, exasperated breath that I felt on my skin from across the table. “It’s work-related.”

“Well, sometimes talking it through helps.”

He laughed angrily. “This isn’t a problem that talking is gonna solve, unfortunately.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need a hundred-thousand dollars. Can we talk our way to that kind of money?”

My jaw dropped, but I caught myself and closed it, trying not to freak him out even more. “Likely not,” I said.