The picture below it? Us. Hand-in-hand. My face mid-glare. His mid-smirk.
The shuttle erupts.
Dex gasps dramatically. “OH THIS IS GLORIOUS. You two were holding hands?”
"Yeah, asshole, when I was trying to get her out of the concert safely."
Colby claps like a deranged seal. “I’m framing this.”
Mia bites her lip to hide a grin. Harper doesn’t bother.
“Well…” Harper says, thoughtful. “You two might as well go ahead and pick wedding colors.”
I groan and drop my head into my hands.
“Burn the internet,” I mutter. “Just burn it.”
Bryce lowers his voice until it curls just beneath my skin.
“Guess we’re officially a story now.”
“I am going to lose my mind,” I whisper.
He chuckles.
“Don’t panic. It could be worse. You could be stuck with someone boring.”
My eyes snap to his. His are warm. Honest. Dangerous.
And that’s when Dex blurts, loudly enough to wake every ghost in Tennessee:
“SOOOOOOOO, should I put you two down as ‘together’ or ‘it’s complicated’? I’m making bets.”
Everyone laughs. Everyone except me.
Because Bryce doesn’t laugh.
He just looks at me. Long enough for something inside my ribcage to trip, fall, and stay down.
The shuttle slows. My stop.
I grab my keys. "Thank God this night is finished."
I stand. Bryce stands too. Too close. Too steady.
His voice drops low to a whisper.
“We’re not finished, Annabelle.”
I swallow. Hard.
“We never even started.”
His smile is slow, knowing, and reckless.
“Oh sweetheart… you have no idea.”
The door slides open. Cold night air rushes in.
