Page 119 of The Chance

He’s goddamn beautiful.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers over the line and it’s then that I realize there’s two boxes on the screen, the majority of it black, but the smaller rectangle reflecting back the soft smile on my face.

“About tea and sleepy mumbles,” I answer easily and raise the phone until the little frame fills with my head and bare shoulders. “I’m also undecided on attire.”

“If you’re not wearing pants, I’m coming straight over, and the date can wait.”

I snort and dip the phone to show my jeans.

Mac curses, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

It makes that flittering and tingling intensify.

Was it always like this?

No. I would have recognized this shit.

Wouldn’t I?

That cloud of self-doubt teeters at the edge of my subconscious, menacing and leering like it deserves the attention it’s starving for.

It won’t last.

I clear my throat.

Blow out a breath.

I deserve good things,I remind myself just like my therapist demanded I attempt in moments like this.Not everything is temporary.

Mac isn’t temporary.

“Come over.”

Chapter Seventy-One

Mac

I’ve never stolen aset of keys so damn fast in my life.

The bowl they were in rattles as the door slams behind me and I’m on the garage level before I can take a full breath.

Come over.

Yes. All the way yes.

I click the unlock button on the fob until the car it belongs to beeps—Leo’s Audi—and I’m diving into the driver’s side at the same time Peach runs after me.

I’m laughing my ass off as I shift to drive and the momentum is shutting Peach’s door for him.

“Where’s the fucking fire, Mac? Holy shit.”

My pants.

Snickering, I bank the exit with a turn that leaves burnt rubber behind me and squeal right passed a line of vans and beater cars trying their best to blend in. They don’t mingle at all, and I don’t know why the paparazzi even try anymore. We know they’re there. They get what they get. Anna, the band’s media specialist, handles the rest.

Which is why I’m not at all surprised when headlights fill the rearview mirror a little too close.

“Circle the block,” Peach mumbles and passes me a pair of aviators from the glove box.

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