Page 28 of A Little Tempting

“Are you asking if I friend zoned Everett?”

“I don’t know, did you friend zone Everett?” he challenges.

Part of me wants to say yes. The other part? Well, I can’t help but question if Everett is my masked Cinderfella.

Dammit.

Did I really use the term Cinderfella?

I’m seriously going to kill Finley when I see her again.

Regardless, if Everett is my masked Cinderfella, is it a bad or good thing? I’m not sure, but Iamsure if he is, it would turn my entire world upside down. Is it wrong of me to have never thought of him that way? Even when we were younger and played Truth or Dare…I don’t know. I never felt the romantic vibe from him. Then again, my romantic radar’s always been broken, so…maybe I’m wrong? Maybe I’vealwaysbeen wrong. Or maybe his feelings are new? Maybe he never looked at me in a romantic way until recently? Or maybe he still doesn’t, and I’m overanalyzing everything. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially with a little bird named Finley whispering in my ear and blowing everything out of proportion. And maybe I shouldn’t be spiraling in front of one of his teammates who’s still staring at me.

I gulp but stay quiet, pulling another confident grin from the bastard. “Yeah, I think I’ll take my chances with awkward Dylan,” he decides. “Besides, you’ll have to get over it one way or another because we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“Uh, no, we won’t.”

“Uh, yes, we will,” he mimics.

“Says who?”

“For starters, our photography professor.”

Shit, I forgot.

“Why are you in photography, anyway?” I snap.

With a shrug, he answers, “Lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Yeah.” He steps even closer, practically wedging his foot between mine. “Game Nights aren’t for the faint of heart, Thorne.”

Thorne.

He isn’t joking about the last part. Game Nights definitely aren’t for the faint of heart.

When I realize he’s waiting for me to reply, I mutter, “How…inconvenient.”

He chuckles quietly. “For one of us, sure.”

My gaze flicks to his again.

“I don’t mind the long game, Dylan.”

“There is no long game.”

He tilts his head. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Agree to disagree, then.” His grin widens. “Just remember, I’m not afraid of the chase.”

His words wash over me like sunshine, spreading ooey-gooey warmth over every inch of my skin until I’m hot and bothered and well aware I'll be burned if I stand here much longer.

Maybe he was the one in the mask.

My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek as he takes another sip, shamelessly checking me out. Maybe his choice of words is a coincidence. Maybe he has no idea about the kiss. Maybe it was someone else who gave me the best damn toe-curling kiss in existence, and I’m grasping at straws.

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