MARIE'S POV
I'm still watching Karla spar with Israel, her sarcasm sharp, his grin sharper, when I feel a warm hand graze mine. Barely a touch, but enough to ground me. I glance down and then up.
Jason.
He doesn't say a word. Just tips his head, eyes flicking toward the edge of the crowd. Away from the music. Away from everything.
Just… us.
My breath catches.
For a second, I consider staying right here. Letting the moment pass. Pretending whatever just sparked between us was an illusion. A glitch in the system.
But I know better.
His fingers brush mine again, soft and slow, like a question.
And this time, I answer.
I nod.
He exhales like he didn't realize he was holding his breath. Then gently, carefully, he laces his fingers through mine and pulls me through the crowd.
His hand is rougher than I remember.
Stronger.
It fits mine too well.
