Page 60 of The Prom King & The Ice Queen

“I’m eating lunch with my girlfriend,” Leo says with a smirk that kinda makes me want to smack him.

I either want to smack it off his face or kiss it away, and I’m not entirely sure which is going to win out because…

“What?” My voice is not pretty. It’s high and screachy.

“You heard me.”

I look around and catch some concerned looks from my friends, but Leo’s still watching me. There’s more than just a challenge in his eyes. He’s baiting me.

And I don’t know what to think. I have no clue how I’m supposed to act.

I know what I’d have said to him last week before the whole ring incident. But now I don’t know how to be that girl anymore.

I don’t want to be her anymore.

But if I’m not her…if I’m just me…

I don’t know how to do this.

Tears sting the back of my eyes. Ah crap. I brush my hands off and stand with as much dignity as I can muster. But my heart feels tender and my throat is tight.

I don’t know how to do this without getting hurt.

“I forgot something in my locker,” I mutter. But I don’t make it far before I hear Leo’s footsteps catching up to me.

I can’t bring myself to look up at him so instead my gaze falls on the gawking faces of my friends. No, not my friends. The girls and guys I used to call friends. They were never my friends though.

And what does that make Leo?

I pick up my pace until I’m in the nearly empty hallway, Leo hot on my heels.

I whirl around to face him, trying to summon some attitude or a hint of anger, but I just sound breathless when I say, “What do you think you’re doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. He reaches for my face and cradles it gently before searing my lips with a hot kiss that wipes away all traces of thought.

When he pulls back, he looks kinder and warmer and more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

And I am crying.

Great. Just great. I swipe at my eyes but he beats me to it, his thumbs wiping away the tears before they can hit my chin.

“I thought I was clear about how I feel,” he says. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, but it’s tempered with tenderness.

I pull back until his hands drop. “You don’t do relationships,” I say.

“Says who?”

I ignore that. “And I don’t do…this.” I gesture between us.

“Why not?”

I blink. “What?”

He wets his lips, and that’s the only sign that maybe he’s not quite as confident as he sounds. “Why not?” He moves toward me again and I refuse to back away so we’re basically breathing the same air when he demands, “Savannah Winters, please be honest with me for once.”

“For once?” I start to sputter.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Do you or do you not like me?”

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