Chapters (29)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Dahlia Adler
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
Considering how good Jasmine looks on a daily basis, I don’t doubt it. Not that I say that. “What do you want to watch?” I ask instead.
“Something fun and glamorous.” She grabs some peanut M&Ms from their constant spot in the kitchen cabinet and shakes them into the popcorn, then brings the bowl to the couch and pats the seat next to her. “I can always watch Ocean’s 8 or Crazy Rich Asians or whatever for the zillionth time, or we can try something else if you’re in the mood.”
Those words aren’t meant to be suggestive, but my skin prickles anyway. Her tank top is hanging low and her hair looks soft to the touch and we haven’t established any sorts of rules, but it feels like I would be breaking one if I told her I was, in fact, very in the mood.
“Whatever you want,” I croak as I join her, careful not to let my skin brush hers. She shrugs and puts on Crazy Rich Asians, which she’s already watched at least twice this summer. It is a fun movie, but it’s not a particularly sexy one, and I hope that watching it like a hawk will get these ridiculous thoughts out of my brain. But then she stretches the gold chenille throw blanket over my lap and I get the scent of her peach lotion and even Henry Golding can’t bring me back from the brink of madness.
Jasmine, of course, doesn’t notice a thing. She’s glued to the screen, commenting on how much she loves every single character’s wardrobe and jewelry, oblivious to how badly I want to lean over and kiss her bare shoulder that’s inches away. I’m too foggy-brained to even think about how weird it is that I want to. The couple of times we’ve made out have somehow felt like the simplest, most obvious moves, but in reality, they’re so much more complicated.
But what I want right now isn’t complicated. What I want is very, very simple.
I wish people would just admit what they want when they want it.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m resting my chin on her shoulder. Leaving the lightest of kisses behind on her skin. Glancing at her for a reaction.
Her eyelids flutter shut.
Okay then.