Page 100 of Puck Prince

“Just… lay low and follow my lead,” I tell her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

We slip out the door, and I immediately drag her into the trees. “My dress is going to be ruined.” she whispers, dodging all the branches.

It’s a good thing we aren’t at my apartment. I’d rip the thing off with my teeth.

We manage to stay out of sight until we pop out of the foliage at the back of the parking lot where I promptly flag down one of the black Escalades.

I help her in, and we make our way home in silence. Not bad silence—it’s easy and decompressing.

It isn’t even until we pull into the complex that I realize I’ve had my arm around her the entire time.

She doesn’t seem to mind.

30

CALLIE

Owen and I face each other, standing at what seems to have become our regular crossroads as of late: the gap between his door and Kennedy’s.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say. “And the dress and just… everything.”

Owen’s eyes trace over me one more time and something wild dances around in them. He nods once. Now that he’s shaved his just past five o’clock shadow—do I miss it? Do I not? I’ll never tell—I can better see the clenching and unclenching of his sharp, strong jaw.

Okay, maybe I don’t miss the scruff—this man’s jaw could cut mangos.

The clenching is something he does when he’s debating something. When he’s at war with himself.

“You really do look sexy as hell, Callie.”

It’s an odd way to compliment someone. Or, really, it’s an odd way to compliment someone when you say it while it looks like you’re trying to chew concrete at the same time.

An awkward laugh bubbles out of me. “Thanks?”

“I just mean… you’re stunning.” The second compliment seems to pain him even more than the first.

“If I didn’t know any better, Owen Sharpe, I’d almost think you were attracted to me.”

“You just figured that out?”

There’s a teasing quality in the way he says it. It’s like he’s dangling something in front of me, waiting for me to swipe out at it. Instead, I dodge. “Well, you should like it—you bought the dress. It would make any girl look good.”

“No. That dress was made for you and only you.”

I can’t tell if we are flirting or fighting. With us, it could be either. Or both.

“Alright, alright. I clean up okay. But I’ve seen the women you athletes pull. I saw them tonight, actually. Alisha looks like Channing Tatum’s ex-wi?—”

Owen takes one step forward and completely closes the gap between us.

“Dammit, Callie, you’re gorgeous.” His voice is low and hoarse, a cocktail of sensuality and irritation. Frankly, I have no fucking idea what to do with it. “I’ve never been with someone like you before.”

And just like that, he’s blurring that public-slash-private line we agreed to.

Mayday. Mayday…

“You mean you’ve never been in a fake relationship before? And here I thought I was your one and only.” Humor is all I have left in terms of escape routes. With the way his eyes are searing into me, the way his lips are close enough to mine that all it would take is the tiniest tilt of my head to taste them…Well, the aforementioned line is, spell it with me, G-O-N-E.

Owen reaches out and takes a curl of my hair between his fingertips. “Does all of this feel fake to you?”

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