“You, uh…” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet like he can’t decide if he wants to lean against the door or stand up straight. “You look… nice.”
I smirk. “You sound surprised.”
“Not surprised,” he says quickly. “Just, um… distracted. In a good way.”
Before I can push that further, a burst of energy comes barreling down the hall.
Maddie’s dark blonde hair is curled to perfection in neat ringlets. Her cheeks are dusted with pink glitter on top of freckles that look just like Mason’s.
“Hey! You must be Hunter!” she says cheerily.
I nod. “I am. It’s nice to finally meet you, Maddie.”
“You too. Mason’s told meso muchabout you,” she says with a teasing grin on her face.
Mason nudges her in the ribs. “Shut up, you brat.”
She giggles and slips on her shoes. “Alright, let’s go!” she says, shoving Mason out the door. “We gotta pick up Bella and Leah. I don’t want to miss the opening act!”
“Chill out, Mads,” Mason says. “We won’t be late.”
We step outside, and Maddie halts in the driveway the second she spots my car. Her eyes go wide as she turns to Mason. “You didn’t tell me Hunter was rich!”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck.Great.I know the car’s over the top—sleek, shiny, and obnoxious as hell. Landon and I got matching ones for our eighteenth birthdays, a flashy reminder of just how out of touch our parents can be.
“Be nice, Mads,” he warns, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I am being nice! I think it’s cool you have a rich friend.”
“I’m sorry about her,” he mutters with an apologetic half-smile. “No filter.”
“I gathered,” I huff, hitting the start button.
We pick up Maddie’s friends Leah and Bella, who pile into the backseat with Maddie, instantly smushed together in a blur of feather boas, laughter, and sequins. Within seconds, they’re deep into adebate over which Harmony Heartz member is superior—apparently, Noah is overrated, Amir is definitely the most talented singer, and Carlos is the best dancer.
Mason just stares out the window, cheek against the glass.
The drive to Shelby Harbor is bathed in gold, the lake flashing between trees as we follow the highway along the shoreline. The girls’ chatter morphs into background noise. Mason glances at me a few times, as if checking to see if I’m regretting my decision to come along.
I’m not.
By the time we reach Shelby Harbor’s arena, the parking lot is already a frenzy of cars inching along. People in matching tour T-shirts spill onto sidewalks. I squeeze my car between two oversized SUVs, the parking space so tight I have to fold in my side mirrors.
Maddie bounces in her seat. “Oh my God, we’re here!”
Mason lets out a deep breath like he’s bracing for impact.
I grin, turning off the car. “Ready for this?”
He shakes his head. “Not even close.”
We join the stream of fans funneling toward the arena doors, where a long line snakes toward the metal detectors. Mason groans under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Before he can answer, Maddie pipes up, “Mason’s pump sets off the detectors sometimes.”
My stomach dips. I’d never even considered that.
