Chapter 99

Summer’s POV

When we finally demolished the last of the cake slices (and maybe a handful of sprinkles that fell on the floor), we gave our plates a lazy toss onto the carpet—because adulting can wait—and dragged the patchwork blankets up to our chins. Jared claimed his pillow domain on the left, I flopped on mine to the right, and between us lay a healthy gulf of space that felt equal parts courtesy and cowardice.

“This is awkward,” Jared whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

“I know,” I whispered back, wishing I’d packed some earplugs—and maybe a manual on how to not make everything seventeen kinds of awkward.

He snorted, and I almost lost my whisper-cool composure.

“Should we, like, snuggle?” I ventured, voice low enough we could pass for spies on a super-secret—okay, not-so-secret—mission.

He considered that a beat too long. I swear I could hear my heartbeat tap-dancing in the silence. “We can try it.”

Armed with those two words,