“And she can speak for herself,” I said, glaring at him. “What has gotten into you, tonight?”
“You just said you needed water.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Maybe I don’
t want you to get date raped by a jock in a closet.”
My eyes flared.
Evelyn gaped. “The hell…? Are you for real?”
But Miller ignored her, his blue topaz eyes boring into mine. I’d never seen this side of him. He’d always been intense but never toward me. Not like this. Protective. Possessive, even.
“I-I can take care of myself,” I stammered.
Miller said nothing but took the cup out of my hand. His gaze never leaving mine, he tossed back the shot, chucked the empty on the floor, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.
I started after him. “Miller, wait—”
“Let him go,” Evelyn said, pulling me back. “He’s totally out of line. River is a good guy.”
“I know, but Miller can’t be drinking like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “He can take care of himself. River’s going to play my game. Do you see where I’m going with this? You. Him. A dark closet for seven minutes?”
I looked after where Miller had returned to the backyard, and then Evelyn’s words sank in to my beer-dampened thoughts.
My first kiss. It might happen. Tonight.
My heart stuttered, and my cheeks felt warm. Evelyn watched my face.
“Ah, now she gets it.” She offered me her tequila. “Drink.”
I pushed the shot away. “That’ll make me sick. And if I’m going to kiss River tonight, I don’t want to be drunk for it. I want to be present in the moment. To remember it and savor it.”
“Oh my God, you’re like Snow White. Pure as the driven snow or some shit. It’ll happen. Trust me.”
I nodded. Because Miller was wrong about River.
Just because he mistrusts everyone doesn’t mean I have to.
“How are you going to make sure that River and I end up in the closet together?”
Evelyn smiled. “Because I make stuff happen.”
A bunch of us, five guys and five girls, cleared space in the living room. Music still blared over the sound system, but the dancing had subsided, and we had a small audience. I sat in a circle between Evelyn and Caitlin. River, Chance, Holden—who was everyone’s new favorite person—sat across from us. Two other football players, Donte Weatherly and Isaiah Martin, rounded out the guys, while Julia and another girl I barely knew made up the rest.
Miller had taken a seat with Ronan and a small group of people in the corner of the living room by the front window. He had his guitar on his lap and was watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
But his eyes. They look almost…sad.
Then he looked away, turning his attention to Amber Blake. A pretty girl with long blonde hair. Evelyn called her a granola girl—her nickname for environmentalist, pot smoking vegans she thought made up a good percentage of Santa Cruz’s young people.
Amber and Miller’s heads were so close together, they were nearly touching. Maybe only to be heard over the music.
Maybe not.