Tell her the truth. The idea grabs my breath as the humid breeze picks up again, swirling around us with even more force. “If I hadn’t come to Boone, I would never have met you and I know I would’ve missed that—missed you. I would never have known your name or your face, but I would’ve known the absence of you, the gap that was left in me because you were never there.”

I’m breathing and not breathing and we’re so close, I can’t help myself. As she stares at me, I brush my fingertip against her knuckles, feel her skin’s heat. It’s like discovering something no one has ever named.

“I think I know what you mean,” she whispers at last, putting down the Solo cup.

Grabbing my T-shirt.

I exhale—hard—and lean closer.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?” My heartbeat is deafening as her other hand climbs my chest.

“I want…”

Then she kisses me and I’m frozen. I’ve kissed dozens of girls. But this kiss? I can’t move. I can’t think. She feels—oh my God, this is what the first jolt of espresso feels like, what the first rush of whiskey tastes like. She’s warm, but I’m burning.

My hands go for her neck, her jaw, her cheeks. She kisses me like she needs something, but I kiss her like she’s everything.

“I’ve wanted this,” I whisper against her lips. She’s snowfall soft. “I wanted you to want this…”

“I do want it.”

I pull back. Grace’s lips are swollen and her eyes are wide. She looks like she just woke up, and it knocks the air from my lungs.

“I want it so much it scares me,” she says.

I cradle her face in both hands. “Me, too.”

Then she drags me down to her again, and I’m lost. My fingers in her hair, my hands along her cheeks, my thumbs bracketing her mouth. I can’t get enough.

I’ll never get enough.

I push her against the wall, and she pulls me closer. My hips grind into her stomach and she digs her fingers into my shoulders.

“Grace…” Her name rides my groan, and she smiles. Inside, the music climbs and people laugh and someone gasps. I shouldn’t be able to hear it, but I do.

So does Grace. She goes still. I look up.

Ander.

He’s drunk. Swaying a little. Furious.

Is this the part where he fights for her? Where she takes him back? My hands tighten around Grace, but she doesn’t notice. She’s turning for him. She’s going to him.

Or is she?

Grace falters, and in the distance, heat lightning splits the blackened sky. A storm’s coming.

Then Ander’s eyes meet mine, and I know it’s already here.