The guest room we end up in is lavish and stuffy. Dev cradles his hand. I head to the en suite and flip on the light, looking around. He follows and I can feel his presence in the small room like a caress.

“I appreciate what you did,” I tell him, trying to shake the feeling of Chip’s hand up my dress.

I don’t really expect Dev to respond. Sure, he punched a guy for me, but that’s just because he’s a good person, not because he likes me anymore than he did yesterday when he drove us home without looking in my direction.

“He had it coming,” he says, surprising me. He leans against the counter and spreads out his hand, flexing his fingers with a wince.

I ball up a bit of toilet paper and dampen it in the sink. His knuckles are bloody.

“If you want antiseptic you should ask your girlfriend where it is. But I can clean you up a little bit.” I hold out the sodden wad.

Dev shrugs and holds out his hand to me.

I try to keep my breathing under control as I take his hand and rest it on my palm, examining it. I feel like it’s a losing battle. Just touching his hand makes me want to fly up into the sky and explode like a firework.

He swallows as I gently dab his wounds. “I wanted to thank you,” he says.

I blink. “For what?”

“Taking care of Jules. I know he wanted to prove to me that he can handle himself doing shit like this. But all he proved to me was that he really needs you to lean on. Literally and figuratively.”

I keep clearing the blood. I’ve had the feeling all night that Jules wasn’t giving Dev enough credit. The boy has eyes like a hawk.

“I’m surprised you came at all tonight,” I admit.

He snorts. “Everybody is. Is it that strange?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly.

I glance up at Devereux and our eyes meet. My breathing shallows out again and I feel like I’m falling into his grey-green eyes. His pupils dilate and I want so badly to kiss him that my hands are shaking.

Why not? I think to myself. When am I ever going to be this close to him again? Alone? And he looks like he wants it too.

Before I can talk myself out of it I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

When I was a kid, our landlord took Mama and I to the beach, which sounds strange if you don’t know Mr. Monroe. But he’s a good guy, always helping us out if he can. I remember standing in the water, watching where Mama and Mr. Monroe sat on a blanket on the shore, sharing a picnic. The tide would gather and release around my ankles, over and over. And slowly, so slowly, it would increase. Soon it was up to my knees, pulling at me like a siren, begging me to let it carry me away.

Mama had warned me not to get pulled under, not to let the ocean take me, but I hadn’t listened. When the water swelled around me one last, triumphant time I was caught and pulled away. The ocean engulfed me so easily, and I was completely at its whim.

That is what this kiss feels like. Like we’re drowning in each other, powerless to the tide that overtakes us. What I had imagined it to be like a thousand times while sitting in his truck on the way to and from Moonhollow doesn’t come close to this.

My heart and breath are his and his are mine. He tastes like bourbon and spearmint and lightning and I want nothing more than to stay connected to his lips forever.

Dev seems to feel the same way. His big hands clasp my face, holding me tightly as he kisses me, and we are lost. The floodgates are open and we are utterly lost.

Until a throat clearing interrupts us and we both jump apart, panting like our lungs were really filling with water.

Brody stands in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He tilts his head and studies me, almost suspiciously.

The lights above the sink flicker while I fight to control my breathing.

Dev runs shaking fingers through his hair, bloody knuckles forgotten. “What?” he barks at his best friend.

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“Claire’s pissed off,” Brody informs him. “And Jules is looking for Mrs. Jules.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. I’d forgotten about Jules with everything else going on. First with the snakes and then everything with Chip.

I push past Dev, trying not to shudder at the brush of his body against mine, but Brody blocks my escape, standing in the doorway.

“Let me go.”

“Demanding, isn’t she?” His lips twitch. “Where ya going, Mrs. Jules?”

“Jules and I aren’t a couple,” I remind him, for the millionth time. “But I’m going to go make sure he’s okay, if that’s alright with you.” I cross my arms.

“Let her go, Brody,” Dev orders from behind me, his deep voice making my toes curl in my boots.

Brody’s eyes search my face for a moment before he steps aside.

I flee from the room, my body still buzzing with Devereaux’s kiss.

Jules nearly knocks me over when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Emmy!” He’s somehow even more drunk than he was when I left him. “I heard what happened. Chip is seriously fucking dead to me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Your brother took care of him.”

He nods, leaning heavily against me for support. It’s still pretty loud inside so we stumble-walk to the front door and drop down onto the steps.

“I heard about that too. Heroic asshole,” he grumbles. He lays down on the cold concrete and puts his head in my lap.

“So.. how are we getting home? Did Zoe and Chip take off?” Not that I would ever ride in a car with Chip again.

“Yeah. We can .. mm..” Jules starts to drift off and I sigh.

I know I should go in and find Dev and ask him to drive us but the idea of being in such a small space with him so soon after that kiss … it both chills and heats me at the same time.

“Get up,” says a gruff voice from above. “I’m taking you home.”

I’m startled to find Brody towering over us. “What? Why?” I blink up at him.

“Dev asked me to. Is he even conscious?” He gestures to Jules, sounding annoyed.

“Jules, sweetie..” I shake his shoulder and he stirs, groggily burying his face in the midnight fabric of my dress. “Come on. Brody’s driving us home.”

Jules blinks and sits up easily enough. Standing is harder and walking is nearly impossible. He ends up slung between Brody and I like a wet rubber band. He falls asleep again once we make it into Brody’s truck.

It’s a similar truck to Dev’s. In fact, I think Dev may have bought his off of Brody’s dad a few years back. Brody is a farm boy, through and through. His family farm is a few miles outside of town the opposite direction of Moonhollow.

I don’t know Brody all that well. He’s even more quiet than Dev and always seems reluctant to go home, spending a lot of his time on the LaTour couch. I’ve never put much thought into why that is.

I do right now, studying his profile as he drives. He has a stern jaw and a crooked nose. I wonder if is parents are negligent or abusive, or if he is just lazy and hates farm work.

“Stop staring at me, Mrs. Jules,” he grumbles.

I huff at the nickname and try to shift under Jules’ dead weight. “I’m not his Mrs.”

“You’d better not be, kissing his brother like that.”

“How do you know Dev didn’t kiss me?” I ask.

He snorts, like that’s the most ridiculous notion in the world.

My heart sinks and I start to come down from the high of that earth-shattering kiss. Of course, Devereaux would never kiss me. What was I thinking?

Brody has one hand on the steering wheel and the other dangling out the window in a relaxed manner. His hair is dirty blonde and chin length, blowing back from his face in the breeze.

“Don’t take it personally, Emmy,” he says, sounding a little bit pitying. “You’re a sophomore and he’s the quarterback. Graduating in the spring.”

I think this is the first time he’s ever called me by my name. I enjoy how it sounds on his lips, but his words sting me.

He pulls into Jules’ driveway and turns off the truck. We just sit for a moment as the engine dies down.

“Do you have a key?” I ask hopefully, because I don’t feel like rummaging through an unconscious Jules’ pockets.

Brody nods and gets out, coming around to help me with Jules. Together we manage to get him to his bed. I take off his shoes while Brody leans against the door frame and watches.

“What’s wrong with this brother?”he asks.

I frown up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you want Dev when this little punk is right in front of you?”

“Jules and I aren’t like that,” I say, glancing down at Jules’ chaotic curls and feeling a tug of tenderness on my heart.

Brody snorts again like he did in the truck. “Sure you aren’t. I wouldn’t tell him you kissed his brother if I were you. There’s enough dissension between them as is.”

Hearing the word ‘dissension’ come out of the farm boy’s mouth surprises me almost as much as what he’s implying. I glance back down at my best friend.

Does Brody know something I don’t? I wonder.

Mama isn’t home yet when I head next door and let myself in but I’m not surprised. She often takes a while to close up after Saturday’s events. Personally I think it’s so she can spend more time with Maddox. He has worked at the bookstore for her as long as I can remember. They are very close.

Dev’s blinds are closed as I get into bed. As I try to fall asleep all I can think about is that kiss. I think Brody’s wrong. Dev was definitely into it just as much as I was. I can still feel him holding my face and pulling me closer. My body aches with unfulfilled desire until I consider that he’s probably spending the night at Claire’s house. That distinguishes the flame real quick.