Lara-Jean POV
The reception continued after Victor's defeat, but everything felt different. Lighter. Like we'd survived something together, and the survival had welded us closer.
Peter's hand found mine constantly—on the dance floor, at the table, during toasts. It was part of the performance.
Except it didn't feel like performance.
The band struck up something slow. A classic. The kind of song that made everyone look for their partner.
Peter appeared at my side before the first verse ended. "Dance with me."
It wasn't a question.
On the floor, surrounded by other couples, we moved together. His hand on my back, warm and solid. Mine on his shoulder, feeling the tension he carried even now. Close enough to feel his breath.
"You're staring," I murmured.
"You're worth staring at."
I
