Free Nuclear Heat (Firework Girls #4) by J. L. White Page B

inside, just like I did when it happened. I remember being against his body, his face so close, that expression. What was it?
    Jack and I are still looking at each other, but neither one of us are smiling.
    My heart is beating faster, all light like wings.
     

Chapter 10
     
Jack
     
    Don’t think I don’t know what I just did. I brought Emily into strict Firework Girls territory.
    I’ve never once brought a girl I was dating into the Firework Girl Zone, wherever it was at the time. The girls would meet my current date at the bars, or the frat parties, or in the dorms, or on trips, or at the beach. But I never brought a girl I was dating into the inner circle, like I did tonight.
    I’m not sure why I did it. I missed my friends (Sam’s only a friend, only a friend, only a friend) and I wanted to see them. That’s not so weird, right? But hell if I was going to go over there without Emily. She’s my life raft right now.
    And isn’t this what people do when they’re advancing their relationships anyway? They introduce their girlfriends to friends and family. It’s totally normal.
    But all the work I did in Spain to distance myself emotionally from Sam?
    Shot to hell the second I laid eyes on her.
     

Chapter 11
     
Sam
     
    The girls love Emily. Fucking love her. After Jack and Emily left last night, Chloe could not stop talking about how nice she is and how great it is that Jack’s found a nice girl.
    Well, whatever. I’m not giving it a second thought.
    I didn’t sleep well last night for some reason, so I got up early and picked up several gallons of paint at Lowe’s and sent texts to people (yeah, Jack too) saying if they felt up for a painting party to come on over. If not, fine. I have so much pent up energy, I feel like I could paint this whole damn house myself and not get tired.
    I probably just need a good, solid orgasm or something, but I’m really not in the mood to go trolling for guys and I’m sick to death of these ugly green walls.
    Jack shows up first. Alone. Thank god. I don’t feel like dealing with Emily. I can’t put my finger on what it is I don’t like about her, but it bugs me that no one else can see it.
    Anyway, Jack’s in his old torn jeans and a faded, loose tee I haven’t seen since college. The word sexy crosses my mind when I see him, but I push that kind-of-alarming thought away. I really, really need a normal day with my friend and it’s bad enough that he’s been weird lately. I’m not going to be stupid too.
    “Is that your painting shirt?” I ask as he walks through the door, a couple six-packs in his hands. I’m up on the ladder, paint brush in hand, and already have paint on my shirt.
    “Yeah,” he says, giving me a big Jack grin that I don’t mind admitting I’ve missed. “You move all this yourself, Shorty?” he says, taking in the furniture I’ve pushed to the center of the room. I threw several plastic drop cloths over everything. I didn’t bother protecting the pink shag carpeting, as its days are numbered anyway.
    I nod. “What do you think of the color?” I say, gesturing to the wall. It’s a nice taupe, but the manufacturer unfortunately decided to call it ‘Beavertail.’ I almost eliminated it based on the stupid name of the color alone.
    He frowns at the furniture. “Is your stomach okay? You should’ve waited for me to help you.”
    “My stomach’s fine now and I didn’t know if you were coming.”
    “Why wouldn’t I come?” But the second he says it, he looks at me like he knows better. Things just haven’t been the same with us lately, there’s no getting around it. I wish I knew why. I miss him.
    In fact, it’s probably our recent time apart that’s making him look all sexy right now, right? Makes sense. But I’m not going to think about that. I wave the paintbrush in the air, showing him the new color on the bristles. “Well?”
    “Nice,” he says nodding and heading for the kitchen. “That the beaver