I pull back so that I can see his face. “Really?”
He doesn’t answer, but his hand tightens against my back.
“I thought …” I stop and clear my throat. “I thought you just wanted me to go home.”
He shakes his head. It’s an abrupt movement, without his usual deliberate care, and I smile. A rush of warmth spreads through me. Wes came here for me, not because he wants to force me to leave things alone.
The last thing I said to him was that he didn’t have to help me, but that I needed him to accept my decision. If he’s here tonight, then he’s willing to stand aside while I try to fix my family’s future. He’s going to support me.
My hesitant smile grows.
He peers down into my face and then his mouth draws into a thin line. “Have you been drinking?”
I blink.
“You have.” His tone is accusing. “You’re drunk.”
“Wes, I had two cups of rum punch.” I roll my eyes. “I’m hardly drunk.”
“Your eyes are unfocused. I don’t like it.”
I shrug. “This is my night of fun. Get over it.”
“Your night of fun?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Everything could change tomorrow. I want one night where I can be free from all this conspiracy stuff. I want to do something fun.”
“Like what?” Wes smiles, and I see the dimple flash in his cheek.
“Like dance.”
He immediately spins me faster and I start to laugh.
“What else?” He sounds amused.
“Drink punch.”
“I think you’ve succeeded there. Anything else?”
I look up at him, and my smile fades. I bite my lower lip, and then I press my body closer to his. I feel him tense and watch the laughter vanish from his eyes. In its place is something dark and consuming.
We freeze in the middle of the dance floor, our eyes locked. The music changes to a fast song, but neither of us moves.
Suddenly Wes releases me, grabs my hand, and guides me out of the crush of people. Lights and faces blur around me. I briefly see Mary waving as Wes and I half walk, half run together across the lawn and into the shadow of trees.
We don’t stop until we’re out of sight of the party. Then Wes drops my hand and turns to me.
He steps close. His expression hasn’t changed. Still intense. Still overpowering. A little unnerved, I retreat until my back hits a tree trunk. He follows me.
“Lydia.” His hands come up to my face and linger just above my skin. My eyelids flicker.
“I’m not … I don’t know how …” He sounds lost. I look up at him. His mouth parts, his eyes are searching.
I reach up and press his hands until they cup the sides of my face. His palms are cool against my skin.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
He leans down until our faces are only a breath apart. His eyes are open and watchful. We breathe the same air for a minute, and then he closes the distance and gently presses his lips against mine.
My eyes shut. He tilts his head and opens his mouth and then I can’t think of anything anymore, not how soft his lips are, not how this feels like the only real kiss I’ve ever had, nothing but Wes.
What started as soft and sweet suddenly becomes demanding and urgent, lips meeting quickly over and over. Wes pulls me closer to him, one hand cupping the side of my face, the other pressing hard on my back. I slide into him, letting his body support my weight, overwhelmed by his mouth on mine. My fingers catch in his hair.
He pulls back. My breath is short and I look up at him, hands still locked behind his head. He gently pushes my bangs back.
“Wes.” I sigh his name and he smiles. I fight the urge to trace the dimple at the corner of his mouth.
He leans down again and I close my eyes, tilting my face toward his.
His voice is a whisper against my lips. “Now will you come back with me?”
My eyes snap open. “What did you just say?”
He pulls back slightly, still watching me. I can’t read his expression. “Will you come with me to Camp Hero?”
My body tenses. All of my fears about Wes twist together in my head. He didn’t come here for me. He doesn’t feel the same way I do. He’s just trying to get me to go back to 2012.
I push at his chest. He drops his arms and I wrench away, stumbling across the forest floor.
I turn to glare at him. “Did you kiss me so that I would agree to leave with you?”
His face goes blank. “No.”
But I shake my head, almost choking on the bile that rises in my chest.
“Did you dance with me and tell me you came here to see me and manipulate me just to get me into the TM?” I press my fingers to my mouth, still feeling him against my lips. The kiss felt so perfect. I thought it meant something.
“No.” There’s a little more force behind the word this time, though his face is still expressionless. He’s so different from the Wes of only a few moments ago.
“How could you do this? I thought you felt …” My voice breaks on the words.
He steps forward, the movement slow and careful. “I would never hurt you.”
I put my hand out to stop him from getting any closer. “What do you think you’re doing right now, Wes?”
He turns his head away and when he looks back, the mask over his features is gone. His eyes are soft and uncertain. He looks almost—confused, like he doesn’t understand what’s happening, or why.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Lydia,” he says, low and soothing. “I didn’t … I just want to keep you safe.”
I cross my arms over my chest and look away from him, back toward the bright lights of the dance. I see the couples moving slowly, the tiny lights flickering through the
