I hesitate, then add, “You should bring the guys too. I can get as many tickets as you need.”
He smiles instantly. “Careful,” he says. “That’s how you end up with eight large hockey players screaming lyrics they don’t know.”
“Honestly,” I say, deadpan, “that just sounds like excellent crowd engagement.”
“Cool, they’ll definitely be up for it.”
Warmth spreads through me.
Not butterflies.
Something steadier.
More dangerous.
Because this, him choosing my world without hesitation, feels like how things really start to matter.
Again, I have to tell myself this was one night.
That I’m still in control.
I sip my coffee, letting the warmth fill me, and try to ignore the quiet truth forming beneath it.
Control has never been the problem.
It’s what happens when I start wanting more.
Chapter sixteen
Colby
“You’re not wearing that.”
Dex freezes mid-spin, one socked foot planted on the rubber mat in the team meeting room, fresh off practice, like he’s auditioning for a dance competition.
Takeout containers are spread across the long table in the center of the room. Italian food. Pasta. Garlic knots. The good kind that makes the whole room smell like carbs and poor decisions.
Annabelle sits at the edge of the table beside Bryce, twirling a fork in her fingers while Mia leans against Eli’s shoulder, balancing a container of fettuccine in one hand.
Annabelle chuckles at Dex. “Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing in public.”
“It’s bold,” Dex says.
“It’s a cry for attention,” she replies sweetly.
Mia snorts. “I kind of love it. In a don’t-stand-near-me way.”
Eli nods seriously. “We’re here for the music. Not whatever that is.”
“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dex says confidently. “It’s fashion.”
“It’s neon,” Mason adds. “And mesh.”
“And cropped,” Bryce says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. Indoors. At night.
Annabelle taps his sunglasses. “You know you can take those off, right?”
He leans down and murmurs, “Public image, babe. Still rebuilding.”
