Page 60 of Dead Pretty

We unknowingly coordinated our clothes.

My heart does a hard bang in my chest.

“We match.” I gesture to his sweater.

He glances at my top and smiles. “Do you want me to go change?”

God, he’s so lovely. I hate that.

“No.” I shake my head.

“So, you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just let me grab my coat.”

Leaving the door open, I put on my warm things and slip my wallet and phone in one of the pockets. My rape alarm is already in the pocket.

Taking a rape alarm on a date, how romantic.

But I never leave the house without it. And after my experiences, I would be stupid to do so.

I trust Jack as much as I can trust a person. But you never really know anyone.

“Okay, let’s go,” I tell him.

He catches hold of my gloved hand, stopping me. “You look real pretty today,” he tells me. “But then you always do.”

My stomach swoops and dives like a flock of birds are in there.

I really need him to stop being so sweet.

“You do too. Look nice, I mean.”

His lips quirk into a smile, lighting up his eyes. He squeezes my hand before letting go. “Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”

I lock up behind us, and we start walking down the hall, heading for the stairwell.

He gestures to the motorbike helmet that he has in his hand. It’s matte black with a design of pink flowers on it. Not his usual all-black helmet that he has.

“You okay on the bike?” he asks me.

“Sure.” I shrug. “I’ve never ridden on one before, but it’s just the same as a car, right? But without doors and windows. And a seat belt. So, actually, it’s nothing like a car.”

Jack chuckles. “You’ll be fine. You’re safe with me, Audrey.”

God, I hope so, my heart whispers—and she doesn’t mean the bike.

We exit the building, Jack holding the door open for me like a gentleman, and we walk over to his motorbike.

I have zero clue when it comes to bikes. All I know is that his bike is big and black and has Triumph written in silver letters on the side of it.

We stop beside his bike, and Jack hands me the helmet. I take it from him. I had the foresight to do my hair into a loose over-the-shoulder plait, making it easier for me to get the helmet on.

Jack opens a helmet bag fixed to the back of his bike and pulls out his usual helmet.

I’ve got my helmet on fine, but I’m struggling with the chin strap.

“Here, let me help.” Jack stands close in front of me. So close that I can feel the warmth of his minty breath on my face. “It’s new, so the strap will be a little stiff.”