Their lips were still brushing when a loud voice cracked through the night—
"Alright, Romeo, save some oxygen for the rest of us!"
Elise.
Sofia pulled back, breathless, her cheeks flaming hotter than the bonfire. Adam's forehead dropped lightly against hers, his shoulders shaking—half from restraint, half from reluctant laughter.
"You okay there, Casanova?" Anne called from somewhere behind the logs. "Need a defibrillator or just a cold swim?"
Sofia groaned, hiding her face against Adam's shoulder for a beat before whispering, "I hate them."
"No, you don't," he murmured back, lips brushing her temple. "They're your tribe."
"And now they've witnessed us kissing like it's a Nicholas Sparks movie," she muttered.
He smirked. "Good. Maybe now they'll stop calling me emotionally constipated."
"Don't mind us!" Elise's voice rang out again. "Continue the married-people PDA. We'll just be over here pretending we're not single and bitter."
