Page 81 of Rising Heat

mack

I notice the second her laugh starts coming slower.

Somewhere around midnight, between her and Tyler butchering early-2000s songs for “vibes” and the last round of cards, she starts losing the fight.

The fire’s burned down to coals by then, throwing just enough light across the living room to catch the edge of Darcy’s face where she’s curled into the corner of the couch, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, Tyler’s hoodie swallowing her whole.

I try not to watch her as she fights sleep, but it’s hard to miss. The blinks come slower as the night wears on, the laugh that usually follows something Tyler says arriving a beat late. Every time the wind rattles the windows, she pulls her feet a little farther underneath herself until eventually, somewhere in the middle of a college hockey story Ty still swears wasn’t his fault, her eyes close.

A minute later they’re still closed.

She’d spent most of the night laughing and arguing and asking questions she already knew were going to cause trouble. Now she’s quiet, curled into the corner of the couch with that loose curl caught near her mouth again, looking softer than she did an hour ago.

More dangerous too.

Tipsy and laughing and looking at me like she was trying to solve a puzzle was one thing. This is something else. Seeing her like this—comfortable enough to fall asleep downstairs, comfortable enough to steal Tyler’s hoodie and claim half the couch without thinking twice about it—hits me like something I don’t have a good name for.

I keep looking anyway.

Tyler glances over from the kitchen while he rinses the last glass.

“She’s done.”

“I can see that.”

I don’t look away from her.

Tyler dries his hands on a dish towel, following my line of sight before tossing it over his shoulder.

“You gonna carry her up?”

He asks like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“You volunteering?”

“Please.” He snorts. “I’ve been watching you ignore her all day. I think you’ve earned this one.”

“How so?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been waiting for an excuse to touch her all day.” He crosses his arms. “I know I have”

I give him a flat look.

“Kidding.” His mouth twitches. “Mostly.”

He knows me too well and has seen too much for me to try to deny it now. I’ve been noticing it all day without meaning to. The way she’d stood in our kitchen this morning, pink-cheeked and trying not to stare while Tyler cooked.

The way she called me Mason, like my legal name on her tongue didn’t make me wanna bend her over right then and there and blow her back out.

The way she’d laughed until she had to grab the cushion and how she blushed after me and Tyler threw our cards on the table. Same way she had in the bathroom a few weeks ago before she caught herself staring.

I know what attraction looks like. I just don’t usually spend this much time thinking about it afterward.

I scrub a hand across my jaw.

“I’ve got her.”

Tyler nods once, his teasing gone but his smile still present.