Every step closer to the crowd dancing in the cloud-like substance makes my heart thump wilder in my chest. Now this is a party! It’s not as packed in the foam, most people are staying on the outskirts of it, but I want in.

“I think this is as far as I go,” Vanessa says and Blair nods in agreement.

“Sorry, Gabby, that foam freaks me out a bit,” Nathan adds.

I mock pout but no one steps forward.

Wes shoves Zeke forward and my date’s eyes widen in panic. The nice thing to do would be to let him off the hook, but my desire to get him to dance with me outweighs every nice bone in my body. Also, I find Zeke’s presence a comfort, like I can be as crazy and reckless as I want, and he’ll keep me safe. Stupid, I know, considering we’ve barely spoken. But if it came to blows, I think he’d at least step in front of me and block me with his giant frame.

“Let’s go, big guy.” I grab his hand and pull. He budges without me really having to put any weight behind it and we enter the foam, leaving our traitorous friends behind and joining a group of girls who look to be as excited as I feel.

They welcome us, widening the circle before getting lost to the music again. I do the same with Zeke standing behind me. He’s closer now than before and maybe it’s the foam or the way no one is watching us in here, but I grow bolder. I turn and place my hands on his chest, moving with the beat. I keep my eyes downcast until one of his hands finds my hip. My breath hitches and I move an inch closer and meet his gaze.

Zeke’s eyes are a light brown, warm and soulful, and right now they’re finally on me. Wow. The force of a thousand suns. All that intensity focused on me, I was not prepared for it. I reach down to the foam at my feet and scoop up a handful, stand, and blow it into his face. It takes him a moment to react, but slowly a smile spreads on his face and then he shocks me by reciprocating – tossing giant handfuls of foam at me, hurling it so fast and furious there’s a cloud around us. I swat at the foam until I can see his smiling face and giggle, look down, and prepare to make another move.

He holds his hand up and says, “Truce.”

“Okay,” I say at the same time I move to grab for more, but he’s quick and catches my wrist. His large fingers burn into my skin and he shakes his head, still smiling.

The foam builds between us and his touch disappears from my wrist only to be replaced by his fingertips brushing against the side of my face and pushing the foam away. It lasts only a second, but I feel it even after he’s dropped his hand back to his side.