Page 80 of Wicked Dreams

As I’m typing a reply, the doorbell rings.

Uh-oh.

“I’ve got it,” Robert calls from downstairs.

Before I can warn him, he’s swinging the door open and admitting Caleb Asher inside. I rush down the steps and skid to a halt on the landing.

He’s not wearing anything particularly interesting—an Emery-Rose Elite sweatshirt, jeans, white tennis shoes. His hair is all messy and falling into his eyes.

And hesmilesat me.

“Thank you for letting me take Margo to my game,” he says to Robert.

“We appreciate you getting her out and about,” my foster father says.

Ugh.

Caleb’s gaze flicks to me, still stuck on the steps, and he smirks.

After dinner, and before checking my messages, I cleaned up my makeup and brushed my hair out. I’m wearinghissweatshirt, the one I ended up going home in after the night in the park, and black jeans. His name is embroidered in gold on the sleeve.

Maybe that will cause problems with Amelie?

He doesn’t tell me to take it off and give it back, though. In fact, he’s made absolutely no mention of Amelie whatsoever. Or that he has a girlfriend. He hasn’t refuted it yet either.

Don’t expect that of him.

Does Robert know that Caleb is dating the most popular girl in school? Is any of this raising a freaking red flag for him?

Probably not… if only because Caleb knows exactly how to charm people.

“Ready, Margo?”

I meet Caleb’s stare and slowly nod. I go down the remaining steps and stop in front of him. I’m ready to get him out of this house and away from my foster parents. I’m ready to pretend to know what the fuck is going on in the sport of ice hockey…

Robert gives me some money for concessions, Lenora takes a picture of us just because, and then we’re out the door. We don’t speak until we’re in Caleb’s Audi, the engine purring.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.” His voice is husky.

I frown. “I… yeah. I’ll take it off.”

His hand lands on my arm, pausing my movements. “No.”

Oh.

I sit back. “Do I need a ticket?”

“I have one for you.”

“Where do I sit?”

“You have a good seat.” He glances my way. “Next to Riley, in fact.”

I narrow my eyes. “Did you stick me in the nosebleeds?”

“It’s a high school arena, baby. There are no nosebleeds.”

That’s fair.

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