Page 25 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she says, her voice rising.

Her phone dings. We both look at it. She glances back at me with dawning horror on her face. "Cade's calling me."

"Answer it," I say.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm ignoring him."

"Answer it," I demand.

She picks up the phone with a trembling hand. "Hello?"

I can just make out Cade's voice. "Hannah, are you home?"

I shake my head vigorously.

"No," she lies, her eyes locked on mine.

"Shit, where are you? I need to talk to you."

"About what? Is this about—"

I close the distance between us, not wanting Cade to be the one to tell her. I want to be the fucking hero in this story, as selfish as that sounds.

"Don't believe anything you hear," I hear Cade say.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her eyes never leaving mine. "What are you talking about?"

I mouth at her to repeat after me, "That night?"

"That night?" she repeats, staring at my lips.

"Shit," Cade sighs in frustration.

She's still staring at my lips, and something electric passes between us. "I need to go," she tells him.

Her bottom lip is hypnotic—plump and perfectly shaped. I want to run my thumb across it, want to feel it against my own again. She ends the call and takes a step back, breaking whatever spell was building between us.

"Please, go," she says, but there's less conviction in her voice now.

I shake my head. "That night—"

"I can put it together," she interrupts. "He was with someone. It doesn't take back what we did. It doesn't make me feel any better." Her eyes search my face. "Is that why you're here? You thought his wrongdoing would diminish what we did? It won't. But I can't talk about this. All these girls probably have their ears pressed to my door right now."

She might be right about that. I step closer to her anyway, reaching for her face, but she meets my gaze with defiance.

"You shouldn’t be here. Everyone who saw you walking in here is going to gossip. I don’t want the attention. Please," she says. "I'm trying to put this all behind me."

"I'm not trying to make things harder for you," I admit. "I can't get you out of my head. That night is on replay."

Her eyes lock with mine, and I know she feels it too—this impossible, inconvenient pull between us.

"I want to test a theory," I say softly, touching her cheek.

"I can't," she murmurs, but she doesn't pull away as I lean in. "San—"

"Han," I whisper back, cupping her face in both hands.

I can feel the energy humming through her body. She closes her eyes, like she's trying to resist whatever this is.

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