Page 87 of Mine After Midnight

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I move off him. He helps me guide my underwear back on as he yanks up his pants. I begin to move, but his hands come to my waist automatically, firm and warm through the thin fabric of my dress, forcing me to stay where I am. The interior of the truck feels smaller now, hotter. The windows have started to fog faintly at the edges, softening the outside world into blurred shapes and coloured lights.

‘You’re trouble,’ I whisper, my fingers sliding into his hair.

He huffs a quiet laugh against my skin. ‘I could say the same about you.’

I pull his head back just enough to look at him. His lips are swollen, and my lipstick is smudged faintly along the edge of his mouth. His usually controlled expression is gone and instead his pupils are blown, and his jaw is tight like he’s holding himself back by sheer force. I flatten my hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms. A silhouette crosses the window, and I wonder for a second if they might knock on it.

‘They’re right there,’ I whisper.

‘I know.’

The way he says it makes heat coil through my stomach again. Our breathing slowly begins to even out, though the air still feels charged. I slide off his lap slowly, settling back into the passenger seat. I feel the loss of contact immediately. Cold creeps in where his hands were. He watches me the whole time.

‘Go back inside,’ he says finally.

‘And you?’ I ask, a little surprised he doesn’t suggest we get out of here. I always planned to stay to celebrate with Elodie.

His fingers drum on the steering wheel. He’s controlled again. Composed. ‘I’ll be here.’

‘You’re not going to come back in?’ I ask.

‘I’m only there for you and your friends don’t like me.’

‘I’d like you to come in with me. They don’t know you, and you can change that.’

He studies me for a long second, the shadows across his face making it difficult to see his expression.

‘You want me in there?’ he asks quietly.

‘Yes.’

Holding my gaze for a heartbeat longer, he nods. ‘Okay.’

We open the doors and climb out. The cold night air washes over my flushed skin and I draw in a lungful of it, combing my fingers through my hair and hoping I don’t look as dishevelled as I feel. Ash walks beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush. We’re almost at the porch when his hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together, and I’m a little embarrassed by how giddy it makes me feel. The music grows louder with every step. People are still lingering outside, laughing and smoking. The first person who notices Ash goes quiet mid-sentence. His presence spreads in small, subtle ripples.

Ash doesn’t look at them. He appears calm, unbothered and unimpressed all at the same time. His family has a bad reputation in this town, so I’m surprised he agreed to come back in with me. My eyes trace down his jaw to where a muscle is spasming, telling me he isn’t as calm as he seems. There’s something in his posture and the way he stares at people that makes them shift out of his path without being asked.

We step inside, and the heat and noise swallow us, making me feel slightly overwhelmed. For a split second, the entire room seems to recalibrate as conversations around us dip and eyes turn in our direction. Ash’s grip on my hand tightens almost imperceptibly. His expression is still unreadable, though he’s artfully schooled the cool, distant look, as if he’s tolerating the existence of everyone in this house solely because I’m standing next to him.

‘I hate this many people,’ he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

‘I know.’

His thumb brushes over my knuckles. ‘But for you, I will endure.’

I can’t help but smile, and I hate how easily he makes warmth bloom in my chest. Across the room, Elodie spots me. Her eyes widen when she notices Ash beside me. Tess, next to her, is not subtle at all as her mouth falls open. Her gaze travels from our joined hands to Ash’s face. After a moment, he nods at them.

‘Hey,’ he says when we reach them.

Tess blinks. ‘Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘He wasn’t invited,’ Elodie mutters quietly, as if she’d actually made a guest list and not an open invitation shared on social media.

‘I wasn’t planning on coming,’ he replies calmly, choosing to ignore her comment, just as she ignores my glare.

I squeeze his hand to remind him that I’m here with him, and that I want him to be here. He shifts slightly closer to me – not hiding behind me, not pushing in front, but aligning himself by my side. It’s protective without being territorial.

‘I know you don’t like me,’ he says to Elodie.