Almost Doesn't Count

Ivy

The bonfire crackled in the center of the open clearing, sending soft embers spiraling into the inky summer night. Couples huddled close together on blankets or perched on oversized logs, warm from both the fire and the flowing wine. Laughter and flirtation floated through the air like sparks.

Ivy sat on a thick quilt beside Lake, the tension between them simmering quietly. They hadn’t talked about the kiss—not the one in the kitchen, or the one that had followed ...