Brock was watching me when I turned back toward him. His brows pinched together. “Dammit, Firefly.”
I didn’t want to argue, and I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. “Say it.” He knew what I was asking, and his eyes darkened, but this time I wasn’t backing down. I knew what I wanted. It was clear to me. He might not see it this way, but I was fighting for what I wanted. Him.
“This isn’t cute,” he said through his teeth.
We still had a crowd around us, but with the show over, they were starting to go back to their drinks and muttering amongst themselves. I didn’t give a shit about them. “There is nothing cute about us. I want to hear you say it.” My eyes stayed on his as I wound our fingers together.
“You want to hear that I’m in love with you,” he said tightly, causing my stomach to drop.
I lifted my chin, still searching his eyes from some kind of emotion, a tell that he was half as crazy about me as I was him. “Yes.”
He stared at me for a full moment in silence—a deafening quiet that had my heart hammering in my chest. What if he didn’t say it? What if I was wrong? What if he didn’t—?
“Firefly, I love—”
I kissed him fervently before he could finish the words. “I love you, Brock fucking Taylor.”
He grinned. “God, I never thought there would be a girl who would be my match. You were made for me, James.”
“I think I was.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“About fucking time.” Fynn grinned, clapping Brock on the back.
Micah scooped me up, twirling me around. The room spun and squealed. “Put me down,” I ordered, pushing at his shoulders, but his grasp only grew tighter. He did finally stop spinning, thank God.
Those damn dimples winked on either side of his cheeks. “Not happening. You’re one of us now, Josie Jo.”
Grayson grinned. “The first girl Elite.”
“The only girl Elite,” Fynn added as my feet touched the ground.
“Do you hear that?!” Micah yelled throughout the house, his arm slung around my shoulder. “She is one of us now!”
I rolled my eyes. The gossip train on Monday would be barreling through the Academy at full steam. “And what if I don’t want to be an Elite?” I teased the four of them. They had formed a circle around me, including Mads in the group. I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t stop the grin from appearing.
The corner of Brock’s mouth twitched up. “The only way out is death.”
“Hardcore,” I replied. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t want out. I wanted this. The friendship. The protection. The Elite was my safety net—always there to catch me.
I welcomed their disorder.
Mads gave me a hard hug once Micah finally released me. “I’m so happy for you. Despite all his less than stellar qualities, Brock is one of the good ones.”
I agreed wholeheartedly.
Still riding the high of hearing Brock tell me he loved me, we rejoined the party, heading to the kitchen for a drink. Celebratory shots.
Mads had been right about the party. I had needed this, more than I knew.
I turned down the hall, heading toward the kitchen, trailing behind Mads. Micah and Fynn were already raiding the liquor bottles, while Grayson and Brock did a sweep of the party to make sure shit was under control. These parties were notorious for crashers, which normally weren’t a problem, but Carter made it a problem after his recent shenanigans with Ainsley. They were monitoring who came into their homes.
As I passed the section of the hallway that broke off into three directions, I caught a flicker of movement that had me turning my head and halting. A shadow moved down the opposite way, the section of the house that was closed off to the party, that lead upstairs.
I don’t know what possessed me to follow, but my legs moved down the hallway just to make sure I wasn’t seeing shit. When I reached the stair landing, I glanced up, searching the darkness.
Click.