Ethan held a metal clothes hanger over the flames and rotated the marshmallow dangling from the end. He snuck another look at Sam, laughing on the other side of the stacked wood with Angie and a few other guests. Her face, illuminated by the glow of the flames, shone with happiness as she tilted her head back and laughed. Ethan’s grip on the hanger and his stomach tightened simultaneously. He’d thought she was beautiful before, but when she laughed—wow. He tried to look away but his eyes didn’t want to obey. Sam glanced over and met his gaze, and her smile slowly faded from laughter to a private grin, just between the two of them. She whispered something to her mom and then stood and made her way around the bonfire. His stomach flipped again as Sam settled onto the log bench beside him. He opened his mouth to say hi but his tongue suddenly resembled sawdust. What did that little smile mean? Did she feel the connection between them, too? Their own personal flame— “Ethan? Your marshmallow is black.”
