Page 7 of Wild Card 13

“You okay?” he asked softly.

No. Absolutely not,I thought.

“Fine,” I lied. I tried to focus on staying upright. Unfortunately, that became difficult when Ty kept looking at me like he’d forgotten there were other people on the lake entirely.

My heartbeat stumbled painfully against my ribs.

“You know,” he said after a minute, “I thought you hated me.”

“I do hate you.”

“Liar.”

“I find you deeply irritating.”

“And yet here you are.” His hands stayed warm against my waist.

The music from shore sounded distant now. Muted beneath the wind and snow and the strange roaring pulse in my ears.

Ty glanced down briefly at my mouth.

My entire body noticed.

Oh.

Oh no.

I suddenly understood every stupid love song ever written.

“You’re cold,” he murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering.”

“That’s because I’m standing on a frozen death lake.”

He laughed softly again. Then quieter, “You’re really pretty, Lucy.” Ty sounded almost confused by it himself. Like the words had escaped accidentally.

The cold air pressed sharp against my lungs. Snow drifted slowly between us. Somewhere back near the fire, Simon screamed about somebody cheating at cards. But out here, it felt strangely still.

Ty moved closer carefully. His gloves brushed softly against my jaw first. All sweet, clumsy sixteen-year-old nervousness wrapped in hormones and awkwardness.

Then he kissed me. It was not smooth. Not cinematic perfection. His nose bumped mine clumsily the first time. I laughed against his mouth before I could stop myself.

Ty groaned immediately. “Oh my God.”

“Sorry.”

“No, that was horrible. I’m restarting.”

I was still smiling when he kissed me again. Slower this time. Careful. Warm despite the freezing air. And suddenly the entire world tilted sideways beneath my ribs. Because Ty Burns kissed exactly like he existed in every other part of life—recklessly, earnestly, like he meant it with his whole being.

His hands tightened slightly at my waist. Mine curled instinctively into the front of his jacket. And somewhere between one breath and the next, I realized this was it. The beginning ofsomething. The exact kind of moment people spent years missing afterward.

Ty pulled back slowly, forehead resting against mine while both of us breathed hard into the cold. “You know,” he whispered quietly, “I had this whole speech planned.”

I laughed softly. “You planned a speech?”