That voice. Deep, warm, slightly amused. Coming from directly behind me.
I turn slowly, my body moving independent of my frozen brain.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The Holy Trinity,andZuul.
Elias King stands five feet away, freshly showered, his damp hair curling slightly at the temples. He's changed into dark jeans and a forest green shirt that just this instant becomes my favorite color. This close, I can see the tiny flecks of gold in his irises, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. The scar on his eyebrow, and even a small white line bisecting the arch.
He's looking directly at me, not through me or past me.Atme.
Am I dreaming? Is this one of those weird moments where you think something's happening, but it's really just my imagination? Am I hallucinating?
"You..." My voice fails. Did he just offer to be my fake date? To the reunion? Did he actually say my name? Did he actuallyremembermy name?
His mouth curves into a smile that doesn't help my cognitive functions. The last of my brain cells wither and die, while my core simultaneously clenches.
"What do you say, Elise? Want to show up together and give them something to talk about?"
My heart hammers so violently, I'm certain both men can hear it. Heck, the entire stadium can probably hear it. Elias King remembers my name. Elias King just offered to pretend to date me. Elias King is waiting for my answer while I stand here like a malfunctioning robot.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Oh God, what exactly is happening right now?
===
2
ELIAS
The air between us pulls tight as I wait. Everything narrows down to her—the slight widening of her blue eyes, the small intake of breath, the way her fingers nervously twist the sleeve of her sweater.
The whole world slides to a stop around us, and a bolt of heat sears through me.
Elise Walters. Standing before me after all these years.
Ten years of wondering what could have been. Ten years of thinking about that girl from the tutorial who made1984make sense and wrote horror stories that kept me up at night. Ten years of trying to forget and failing miserably.
She opens her mouth and closes it again, reminding me of a beautiful fish out of water. I fight to keep my expression casual when all I want to do is cross the distance between us, touch her face, make sure she's real.
Her hair is different now—shorter than it was in high school, chocolate brown waves that barely brush her shoulders insteadof the long ponytail she used to wear. But those eyes are the same piercing blue that haunted my dreams. Her curves fill out her jeans and sweater in ways I'm desperately trying not to focus on.
"What are you getting out of it?" she asks. There's suspicion in her tone, a self-protective edge that wasn't there before.
It's a fair question. Why would NBA star Elias King want to be her fake date?
I shrug, aiming for casual, even if my mind keeps spinning with all sorts of wicked answers. "I've never liked Mia, if I'm being honest. She was mean in high school, and from what I hear, not much has changed."
Elise tilts her head. "Didn't you two date in high school?"
The horror that flashes across my face makes both Elise and James burst into laughter.
"God, no." I shake my head vehemently. "Never. Not even close. I don't know what you think of me, Elise, but I actually have standards."
Her laugh hits me in the chest, and my self-control cracks, a rush of longing rushing through the gap. The sound wraps around my ribs and squeezes.
"So..." I try not to sound too eager. I wasn't planning to show up at the reunion, even with James's insistent urging, but plans have changed. It all hinges on Elise's answer.
"Okay," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's do it."
