Page 94 of Puck Prince

I stumble on my heels, trying to look like I don’t need Owen’s body against mine to keep me upright.

“Now?” Owen seems just as staggered.

“Yeah, sorry. Duty calls when you have the prettiest face on the team.”

Owen drags his hand over his jaw before relinquishing his grip on me. With one final knee-quaking look at me, he follows Lance.

They head towards the stage and start talking with a member of the PR team. If Owen is going to be on stage or something, I should probably stay and watch.

Or… I could go grab some punch, maybe a plate of food. The eclairs look good. This baby has a sweet tooth, that’s for sure.

But first, I need air.

I need to clear my head. I slip off of the dance floor as everyone else is making their way towards the stage, champagne in hand. I pick my way through the crowd and sneak out the back door towards the bathrooms. I don’t feel sick—for once—I just need to think.

Or not think.

It might be best if I don’t think about how easy it is to dance with Owen… talk with Owen…laughwith Owen. It’s like we’ve been doing this for years and years already. I shouldn’t think about how natural it feels to be in his arms. Like we’ve had past lives, hundreds of them, and we found each other in every single one.

Even here, in a gala filled with millionaires, I didn’t feel out of place. Not because I saw myself in the other wives and girlfriends and plus-one dates—so many of them seemed to be in it for the money, fame, status, or some juicy combo of the three—but because it feels right to be at his side.

He almost kissed me. Iwantedhim to kiss me. And the way he acted when Lance pulled him away, I knew he felt the same way I did—like the world was bumped off its axis and we lost our balance.

I’m pretty sure he wanted to kiss me, too.

“Oh my God, Callie. Stop. It’s not real.” I stare in the bathroom mirror, trying to scare myself into rational thought with a scowl. It’s funny how often I have to remind myself of that. We are just very good at faking this, and that is all.

So good, in fact, I think we have ourselves convinced we might be something more. It’s insane.

“You have to stop.”

Speaking of insanity, talking to myself in the bathroom mirror when I didn’t even check to make sure the bathroom was empty first is the height of it.

I need to get out of here and back to the performance. I should be out there supporting Owen the way he has supported me. For one, I know that’s what my uncle would want. It’s important for his reputation as the Scythes head coach for people to see Owen and me in a respectable situation together, making it obvious we are doing things the right way.

I take a deep breath and reapply my tinted lip gloss.

Kissable Pink. Jesus Christ, Callie.

I tuck it away and fix my expression into something effortless and relaxed and not at all worried about accidentally falling into bed with my fake date at the end of the night, and then I slip out of the bathroom en route back to the main event space. But just as I am about to grab the door to the ballroom, a hand reaches out and snags me by the arm.

“Callie! I was hoping to run into you.”

“M-Miles,” I stutter out. My eyes dart around the hallway, but we are alone, his fiancée nowhere in sight. “What are… Whatare you doing out here? I mean, shouldn’t you be inside for the ceremony?”

“Nah. They don’t need me for this part. It’s mostly about your boy toy anyway. I just come for the free booze and food. And the pretty girls.”

I shield myself with a tight hug around my body. I offer a smile, but I know my wide eyes say it all. “You would know a pretty girl when you see one, wouldn’t you?”

“Caught me. I’ve been staring all night. You look unreal.”

Dread sinks in my stomach. “I meant your fiancée. Where is Alisha, by the way?”

“Where girls always run off to—the bathroom.”

I glance back. No, she isn’t. Because I was in there alone.

Kind of like we are alone right now.

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