Confused.
Wanted.
Seen.
And maybe — just maybe — a little doomed.
I swipe to replay the video.
And my heart drops straight through the floor as I whisper,
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
My phone buzzes before I can stop myself from rewatching Leo’s video a fourth time.
Tristan:
Did you see it?
I stare at the screen a beat too long before typing back.
Me:
yep.
Ten seconds later:
Tristan:
Girl. GIRL.
Forget a home security system — you’re gonna need BODYGUARDS NOW.
I drop my head into my hands and groan loud enough to make Mason snort.
“Oh, they saw it,” he says, raising a brow.
“Everyone saw it,” I mutter. “Half the world saw it.”
A cheerful ringtone chimes — Susan’s text tone — but instead of checking her phone, she steps closer to me, tugging her sweater sleeves over her hands the way she does when she’s nervous-excited.
“So…” she starts, drawing the word out like she’s announcing a royal decree. “Since we’re on the subject of… security… there’s something I should probably tell you.”
I blink. “Okay…”
She toys with a loose curl of hair near her ear — the universal Aunt Susan sign forI might have done something impulsive, don’t freak out.
“You know that guy I’ve been texting?” she says.
“The landscaper-construction-builder-jack-of-all-trades one?” I ask.
“Yes.”
She looks like she’s trying not to grin. “Him.”
“What about him?”
“Well… while you were up in Boston…” she clears her throat, “he sort of… installed a gate.”
