Taking a step in Damien’s direction, I don’t make it very far before Mason’s voice stops me.

“Alina.”

I turn back to him expectantly, and he takes a step toward me, causing the space between us to shrink. I wait for him to say something more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts a hand, cupping my face and leaving my skin with a tingling sensation.

He taps my bottom lip with his thumb gently before lowering his hand and stepping back again. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

Feeling a little more reassured now, I turn around to face the party. Damien hasn’t noticed me yet, and I’m grateful for that simple fact; I’m sure if he witnessed what just happened, it would ruin our whole plan. He needs to think I’m attainable.

I approach my two former friends where they chat near the fire, lifting a hand to get their attention.

“Hey,” I say meekly.

Damien instantly turns at the sound of my voice. I nod at James, and he nods in return, looking curious.

“Allie,” Damien breathes, my name sounding reverent coming from his lips.

“I’m glad you guys are here.”

“You know I won’t miss a party. Especially if you’re in attendance,” James says, apparently over the awkwardness already.

I’d nearly forgotten about his tendency to flirt at every possible opportunity.

“Zoe said you wanted to talk to me.” Damien’s eyes already look a bit hazy, and when I pay closer attention, James is the same way. Seems like they got the party started before they arrived.

“I do,” I say, hoping my expression comes across as sincere. “Can we grab a drink?”

He nods eagerly. “Of course.”

Damien fetches us a couple of beers from the cooler, and after bidding good-bye to James, we set off on a different path. Just as we leave the party, I spot Mason in the crowd, and the sight lends me one last surge of courage before he’s out of sight completely.

It’s significantly quieter here. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat as we traipse down the trail, the noises of the party fading into nothing. I gesture for Damien to take a seat on a nearby log and, while he’s not looking, slide my phone out of my pocket, preparing to set up a voice recording.

After tapping the red button, I pocket it again, turning around and taking a seat next to him.

“What’d you want to talk to me about?” he asks, passing me a beer. His voice makes it painfully obvious that he’s trying to sound casual and keep his expectations low, but I’m certain he thinks I’m about to ask him to get back together.

He’s not entirely wrong.

“I wanted to tell you I was sorry.”

His thick eyebrows shoot up in surprise, rising to his curly hairline. “Really?”