Jill to Lizzie as I look around. I try to give my friend a meaningful look, but she misses it completely.
“Beavis is around here somewhere,” Lizzie says to me and Jill. “I assume you haven’t met yet?”
I shake my head, and Jill says, “Beavis?”
“Our brother,” Lizzie clarifies. “Sorry, I’ve always called him Beavis. And Brian is Butt-head,” she says, laughing as she affectionately messes up her younger brother’s hair. Brian rolls his eyes and bats her hand away.
She glances around. “There he is!” They make eye contact and she waves him over.
My eyes follow hers, and when they land on Mark Ashton, everything fades away. The music silences, the people around me disappear, the party is over. Even Brian is gone—the guy I’m here with, the guy I’m dating, the guy I told just this afternoon that I’m falling for him.
All I have left is the buzzing in my head, the pain slicing through my heart, and the ache throbbing between my legs. My blood screams with need. Electricity lights on my skin. My chest hurts, my head pounds, and I feel like I might be sick.
He makes his way through the crowd toward us, and when Jill spots him, her fingers grip my arm in a painfully tight squeeze. The volume comes back on, the people are beside me again, and the party resumes, but it all clashes with the buzz, the pain, the ache.
“Mark, this is Brian’s girlfriend!” Lizzie says, like she’s the keeper of all the information. His eyes meet mine for the first time since I walked through his door tonight, and it knocks the wind out of me. I definitely spot recognition. He remembers me, and he’s surprised to see me in his house on the arm of his brother.
I think I spot something else, something deep and hot mixed with a flash of pain, but it’s so fleeting I might’ve misinterpreted it. He masks whatever else is there quickly, but I swear I caught more.
It has to be wishful thinking. I’m seeing what I want to see.
“Reese,” Brian announces by way of introduction.
Mark holds out his hand for me to shake it. I’m trying to decide whether we’re pretending we’ve never met or whether he doesn’t remember his night with me.
“Mark,” he murmurs, his eyes hot on mine as he grips my hand in his. I have to believe he remembers me from the way his eyes bore into mine. His hand is warm, but it lights an electric shot through my palm, up my wrist, and into my veins, exploding into every cell of my being. Just when I thought I was putting him behind me, I realize how very, very wrong I’ve been. This connection between us is so strong that it’s physically painful, gutting me as my chest aches for him. I gasp for breath, air seemingly thinner up at this high elevation on the top floor of this building.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, entranced by his eyes on mine. They bring me back to that moment he entered my body and stilled as our eyes claimed the other. He must remember it, too, because a searing moment of lust passes between us.
I want to believe he remembers every second of that night just like I do. I want to believe there could be more there for us—that he felt it, too, that it wasn’t just me, that there was a connection.
Immediate, rigid guilt stabs my abdomen. Brian, I remind myself.
Mark’s eyes still blaze into mine, and I’m rooted to my spot.
Fear rushes over me as we face off for the briefest of moments. I don’t want it to end, but I need it to. Brian will know there’s something between us…was something between us…if we spend one more second shaking hands and having some private conversation between our eyes that I don’t know the words to and I don’t understand.
“I’m Jill,” my best friend blurts, reading the situation and thankfully pretending like none of us have ever met. “I’m a huge fan!”
“Nice to meet you, Jill,” Mark says as he tears his eyes from mine and pulls his hand from mine to greet her.
“You too! We saw Vail perform last month at Mandalay. Awesome show!”
“Thanks,” he says, his eyes darting back to me. He seems as though he’s in a bit of a daze. His brows draw together ever so slightly.
“I work for the Sin City Sun, and I’d love to ask you a few questions somewhere quiet if