The Season of You & Me Read Free Page A

and stumbled forward a bit, looking up at the sky and laughing. I bent over, hands on my knees, dizzy from the run, my mouth dry. Gavin took my hand again.
    “C’mon.” He was out of breath too. We sat on the chilly ground with our backs against the trunk of a large tree, facing the abandoned asylum. My breath slowed; my thoughts became more rational.
    “Well, now what do we do?”
    Gavin laughed. “We wait. This always happens when some jackhole lights a fire.”
    “Will they come after us?”
    “Too much of a hassle; that’s why we scatter. Sometimes they have a patrol car over here, but I guess luck is with us tonight. As long as no one causes any real trouble, like settingthe woods on fire, everyone kind of goes along with it.”
    We sat listening until the sounds in the woods died down. The fire was snuffed. The flashing lights were gone. I pulled my knees up to my chest for warmth and stared at the abandoned asylum. “Think it’s haunted?”
    “Nah,” Gavin said, reaching into his pocket and producing an ornate silver flask. “But this would make one helluva horror flick, right? Maybe there’s a psycho who got loose right before the place shut down and he’s been living in the woods all this time and decides to go on a killing spree because he thinks he’s being attacked.”
    “So we’re the first to die, then?”
    “Maybe me—you’d be the ingenue, the one everyone falls in love with.” He opened the flask and offered it to me. I was about to take it, but stopped.
    “Or,” I said, “the ingenue gets lost in the woods, but is found by a charming guy who turns out to be the escaped psycho, and he drugs the girl and takes her to his asylum lab to perform all kinds of sick experiments.”
    He took a swig from the flask. “It’s only Fireball.”
    “And you feel the need to carry a flask?”
    “Sometimes. Takes the edge off. Keeps you warm. I won’t perform any sick experiments unless you want me to,” he said, holding it out.
    I took the flask from him this time and downed a sip. Fireball was the perfect name because the liquid burned mythroat, but it tasted like cinnamon and, true to Gavin’s word, warmed me up. I ran my thumb across the engraved front of the flask.
    “GWH—what’s your middle name?”
    “It’s my father’s flask; he’s George Wallace Henley.”
    “Wow, that’s a flask-worthy name.” I handed it back to him.
    He laughed. “Sounds impressive, right? I’m Gavin William Henley, so I guess I can pass it off as mine.” He took another sip before screwing the top back on. His phone dinged. He reached into his pocket and checked the messages. The screen illuminated his face.
    “Drew says coast is clear.”
    My heart fell. I was sitting in a field of weeds in front of an abandoned asylum and had no desire to leave. Gavin stood up, held out his hand for mine, and pulled me to standing. I stumbled over the root of the tree and gripped his arms for balance. He steadied me, laughing. Even his laugh was sexy. I couldn’t stop staring at him, couldn’t wait to hear what would come out of his mouth next. How had I not noticed any of this for two months in Spanish?
    “I think we’d be the couple who made it out alive,” he said. “The one everyone roots for.”
    I leaned against the tree and pulled him toward me, my mouth reaching for his before I could think, rationalize, stop myself, because the boy with the silver flask was trouble, andI knew it, but I didn’t care. He was momentarily startled, but then made this low rumble of approval in his chest that I felt as he kissed me. His lips were warm and tasted like cinnamon and as his arms crushed me against him, everything around us dissolved. I had an epic story to whisper in the halls of school on Monday.
    It was a story I wished I could forget.
    And wishing . . . well, yeah, I knew where it got me.
    “Hey, Cass, you’re a million miles away.” Nan held the railing as she settled onto the top step next to me. I