Page 38 of Picture Perfect

I watch her take a bite and return my attention to my own food, satisfied she’s learned her place for the moment. Then I feel Chess stiffen beside me. When I look up, the princess is green. Literally green.

She’s up and sprinting for the bathroom before I can even blink. What the hell? I watch her flee, anger shifting to confusion. Had she really gotten that sick from one bite?

For the first time, it occurs to me there might be more going on than a spoiled girl's uppity attitude. But I quickly shake it off. She’s still just a pampered little princess to me. One burger won't kill her.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Rhett?" Gen snaps at me.

"With me?"

"Yes, with you. I don't know what your problem is, but that girl does not deserve to be treated that way. Have you ever seen that girl eat? Really eat? My guess is she has an eating disorder. Maybe it's social anxiety. Maybe she's a vegan. Either way it's not your place to fucking judge and force her to eat something she doesn't want."

With that, she storms off to follow the princess to the bathroom.

"That was too far, Saint," Chess tells me as I shove him out of the booth and go to check on the girls.

When I get to the bathroom, the princess is hugging the dingy porcelain emptying her stomach contents. Gen is holding her hair and rubbing her back, soothing her with quiet words I can't hear.

I don't know what to do here. I don't have anything to offer, so I slip away and return to the table where the boys have had the princess's burger taken away and her water refilled.

"You think she's right?" Dre asks as he digs into his own meal.

I breathe deeply, my mind swirling with questions and doubts. Gen's words had struck a nerve. Could I have been wrong about the Ice Princess all along?

"I don't know, maybe," I mumble.

When she returns to the table and immediately takes a sip of her water, I ignore her. I eat my food and avoid looking at her completely.

When Gen suggests we take her home, I double down on my bullshit. But, we're here for a reason and it isn't to get to know the Ice Princess. It's to get answers and torture that piece of shit she's "dating."

Maybe I am going about this the wrong way.

Chapter eighteen

Addy

The cold metal of the table is a stark contrast to the warmth of Gen's grasp on my hand. My fingers thread through hers, finding solace in her silent support.

"Check it out," Chess says, his voice cutting through the uncomfortable silence. His eyes are fixed on something outside the window, and there's an edge to his tone that makes my stomach clench. "Preston's here."

All talk ceases. I follow the others, abandoning the relative safety of the diner as we file out into a dark corner of the parking lot. The just setting sun glares down at us, casting Saint's shadow across the asphalt like a dark omen.

The lot is mostly empty aside from a few scattered cars. The asphalt is cracked and littered with the evidence of past confrontations. Preston's black car gleams ominously in the light, its engine still clicking as it cools.

"Snowflake," Dre's voice is a low growl, barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. Before I can react, his arm snakes around me, yanking me forcefully against him. The suddenness of his grip sends a jolt through my body. Panic surges within me, a familiar and unwelcome guest.

"Let me go, Dre," I spit out, my words laced with fear and anger. His forearm feels like iron across my chest, stretching across my chest like a damn seatbelt. The pressure of his grip is too much, too intimate, like the curl of a dark vine ensnaring its prey. I should be afraid—terrified, even—of the possessiveness in his touch. And part of me is, a part that remembers too keenly the harsh hands of my past and present.

But there's another sensation brewing within me, a confusing rush of adrenaline that pools in my belly, igniting something wild and reckless. It's wrong, this thread of desire that weaves through my terror, but it's undeniable. Dre's breath is hot against my ear, and I hate how it sends shivers skating down my spine.

"Easy, babe," he murmurs, his voice a dangerous purr. "Just making sure you don't do anything stupid."

"Like what? Escape my kidnappers and run back to that psycho?" I shoot back, trying to twist away from him, but his grip only tightens. His body is a wall behind me, unyielding and tense with anticipation.

"Exactly," he answers, the word a mere whisper, but it carries the weight of his resolve.

I can feel the tension radiating off Dre in waves; it matches the rapid thrumming of my pulse. There's a pull between us, a dark magnetism that leaves me breathlessly trapped in the space where fear and attraction collide. I can't deny the heat that simmers beneath my skin, betraying my conflicted emotions.

“Believe me, you're the lesser of two evils.”

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