I’m getting out of here.
I storm from the coffee shop, because once you’re an athlete of a certain muscular mass, sneaking can’t ever be the word for moving.
“It’s him!” A high-pitched squeal shatters my resolve. I falter my steps, but then continue toward the door.
“Luke Hawthorne!” The soprano voice says again.
I curse myself for not wearing earbuds. My gaze flicks involuntarily toward the sound.
The petite blonde woman grins at me. “You’re Luke Hawthorne, right?”
I wonder if I can pretend I’m not.
“He is.” A tenor voice I definitely recognize rumbles to my right. I turn my gaze, and it’s him.
For a moment, his eyes flare, but then something else, maybe fear, but that can’t be right, replaces it.
“We’re with Falcon Productions,” Sebastian says finally, even though the normal thing would have been to say, we went to high school together, remember me?
“We tried to see you, but no one was home and you weren’t answering your phone!” the blonde woman exclaims, her voice bubbly.
I blink.
“I’m Ella James,” she says, and in the next moment I’m shaking her hand.
“From Falcon Productions...” I slide my gaze over to Sebastian.
Why hasn’t he mentioned he’s also from my hometown?
But when I look at him, he looks at the ground, and though the floorboards are probably actually pretty awesome, that’s not the direction I expect his gaze to go in.
“What is this about?” I ask.
“Oh.” This time Ella blinks.
They think I should know what they’re doing here.
“You’re going to be the next Mr. Right,” Sebastian says.
“No, I’m not.” I swing around and hurry out the door.
SEBASTIAN
“Sebastian?” Ella frowns. “Do you want to—”
I stare at her, my heart pounding.
That was Luke Hawthorne. Luke Hawthorne from Ashcove High. And Ashcove Middle. And Ashcove Elementary.
But this version of him is nothing like the kid I was once vaguely aware of.
My organs plummet.
Ella’s eyes round. I think I’m supposed to do something.
“He’s getting away,” Ella says.
Right.
