It's not Adam.
My breath catches—sharp, involuntary—as my gaze drags up from the black boots to the gold-trimmed coat and finally, to the face I know too well.
That jawline. Those dark, smirking eyes. That grin. God, that maddening, sinful grin I've memorized in every version of my dreams.
Zach.
My pulse stumbles, the air caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat. For a second, I just stare—because seeing him there, in that ridiculous prince costume of all things, feels like every fairytale and heartbreak I've ever known crashing into one impossible moment.
Then his mouth curves—soft, teasing—and his voice washes over me, smooth enough to undo my knees.
"Hi, Sugarplum Princess."
CHAPTER forty
CAROLINE
Istare at him, heart tripping over itself, "Zach? What are you doing here?"
He flashes that maddening grin—the one that always makes my chest tighten. "What do you mean? I'm here for our date."
I blink, the words not computing. "What? No, I have to perform in a few minutes. Didn't you read my text?" My eyes sweep over him again, taking in the regal red coat, the gold trim, the tall boots, the stupidly perfect fit of it all. "Wait—why are you dressed like the Nutcracker Prince?"
His grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I told you. I'm here for our date."
"I don't..." I shake my head, completely lost. "I don't understand."
Zach tilts his head, that infuriatingly calm look softening into something that makes my stomach flip. "Come and see," he says quietly. "They've been waiting for us."
They?
My brows furrow. "Who's they—"
But he's already extending his arm toward me, all gallant and annoyingly charming. I hesitate, confusion and curiosity warring in my chest, but when he flashes that grin, the one that always makes my pulse stutter—I cave.
Feeling absurdly giddy, I slip my hand into the crook of his arm.
As if on cue, the double doors swing open.
And my breath catches.
Right in front of us is a massive balloon arch twined with fairy lights, shimmering in gold and blush pink. Above it, in sparkling letters, reads:
RIDGEWATER U PROM NIGHT 2025.
I just... stare. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
Before I can make sense of it, one of Zach's teammates—Martin, I think—walks up and hands him a small box. Zach takes it with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."
Then he turns back to me.
And God, that grin should be illegal.
He flips the box open, revealing a delicate pink corsage, petals so soft they almost glow under the lights.
"Caroline Bernadette Pennington," he says, voice low and teasing, "will you do me the honor of being my date to prom?"
I blink at him, laughing under my breath. "Aren't we a little old for prom?"
