Page 56 of That Pretty Pucking Mouth

Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I turn to her. “What?”

She’s sprawled out on my bed, her chin in her hands, her legs in the air behind her. She gives me an innocent smile, one that says she’s been waiting for me to crack.

“Nothing,” she replies, dragging out the word with exaggerated nonchalance. But her eyes are gleaming with that telltale curiosity.

I roll my eyes, putting down my mascara. “Just tell me.”

She grins wider, swinging her legs, her socked feet a blur behind her head. “Fine, just wondering who you’re getting all dolled up for.”

“Dolled up?” I glance down at my outfit. What is she getting at now? “It’s just jeans and a shirt, Cass. I would hardly call this dolled up.”

“Yeah, but straight leg jeans that hug your ass? And a fitted shirt? That’s you basically wearing a gold sequined, low-cut dress.” Cassidy smirks as if she’s just uncovered a deep secret. “Don’t act like you’re not putting in extra effort.”

I cross my arms, her scrutiny unnerving. “Maybe I wanted to switch it up for once.”

She lets out a laugh, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Because, out of the blue, you suddenly feel like ‘switching it up.’ Nothing to do with a certain someone who just happens to be popping up in your classes, right?”

I feel my cheeks heat, and I turn back to the mirror, trying to keep my face neutral. “Tease all you want,” I mutter, but Cassidy’s smirk only grows, and I know I’m not fooling her one bit.

My phone beeps with a message and I am grateful for the distraction. I grab it and read the screen.

Still up for tacos and social influence?

I stare at Connor’s message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Part of me wants to say yes, to do something normal with someone who seems genuine. He’s sweet, helpful, sane and completely drama-free, which feels like exactly what I need.

But then, there’s Thatcher, his shadow looming over even this innocent offer. Somehow, I can already imagine his reaction if he found out I was spending time with someone else. And as ridiculous as it is, that thought alone makes me hesitate. I’m not sure why I’m letting him have this effect on me, but here I am, overthinking a simple invitation because of him.

“Who is it?” Cassidy’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, her curiosity obvious as she leans over, trying to sneak a peek at my phone.

I shut off my screen before she can read anything, forcing a smile. “Just…someone from class,” I say, hoping that will beenough to dodge the subject. But I can already see Cassidy’s eyes lighting up with even more curiosity.

Later…I’ll answer later.

Cassidy’s smirk deepens, and I know she’s not letting this go easily. “Oh, just someone from class?” she teases, crossing her arms. “Is this someone from class maybe tall, cute, and likes to invite you out for tacos?”

I roll my eyes, but my face is definitely giving me away. “Cass, it’s just lunch. I mean, he’s nice, but… it’s not anything serious.”

“Not serious yet,” she corrects with a wink and lets out a squeal. “Oh my god! Your babies with Connor are going to be so cute!”

I gape at her, nearly choking on air. “Babies? Cass.” I let out a laugh.

She shrugs, completely undeterred, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “One lunch is all it takes to start something, Rhea. And come on, don’t pretend you haven’t thought about making babies, even just a little.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I can feel my face heating up again.

“You are seriously so annoying,” I laugh despite myself and stand, grabbing my bag from the edge of the bed.

She bounces to her feet, sweeping her curly hair over her shoulder in a dramatic motion. “Just promise to name your daughter Cassidy, and I’ll stop.”

I shake my head, trying to suppress a grin. “Yeah, that’s not happening,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Besides, it’s just lunch. We’re not picking out baby names.”

Cassidy pouts dramatically, following me as I head toward the door. “Fine, fine. But if things get serious, just remember: Cassidy is a great baby name. Cassidy’s just one option, you know,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Cassie is a cute nickname. Or maybe Cassara—exotic, mysterious, a future little heartbreaker.”

I shake my head, trying not to let her enthusiasm wear me down. “You’re relentless.”

She sighs dramatically, resting her head on my shoulder as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “I know, but it’s all part of my charm.”

As we step outside, my laughter fades, and my stomach does a flip. There, leaning against his stupid Tesla with his arms crossed, is Thatcher. He’s watching us, his gaze and expression unreadable.

What the fuck is he doing here?

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