Page 148 of Glitched Play

Dara comes up and commands. “You two get out of here.”

I don’t miss the wink she gives me.

Then Witt pumps my hand with his and quietly says, "Let's go home."

Home?

Home.

I freeze for a half-second. "I should stay."

Witt tilts his head. "Why?"

"They still have to tear everything down."

He looks around. "We have an operations crew."

"But—"

"They're already doing it."

I glance around and dozens of employees rolling cables and packing equipment. The cleaning crew already pulling bags from the trash containers. The caterers are pulling the food and drinks.

“You did your job. Now let them do theirs.”

I study him like he’s speaking in code but he’s right so I nod in agreement.

"Good. Because I want to spend what’s left of the evening with you."

Witt gives his family a quiet glance and I can tell by their expressions that Witt has done something that is almost impossible to believe. He kissed me in front of everyone.

On the way out of the pavilion, I stop to slip off my heels, and the second my feet touch the floor, the pain finally catches up with me. Apparently launch-night adrenaline is a very effective anesthetic until it decides to abandon you in public.

Witt notices immediately. His gaze drops to my feet, then to the shoes dangling from my fingers, and without a word, he takes them from me. One heel. Then the other. Like it’s nothing. Like carrying my shoes through a crowd is as natural as breathing.

Then he tightens his grip on my hand and keeps walking, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles. The gesture is small, almost absent, but it sends warmth through me anyway. Because Witt doesn’t do careless things. If he’s holding on, it’s because he means to.

We wind down the hall to his personal elevator. Right before we get there, I break the silence.

“That was quite a night.”

He looks over. “The launch exceeded all expectations.”

“It did,” I smile at how everything went as planned. Fans bought jerseys, even Mary Beth’s. Our social media team showed me dozens of posts with fans saying how much fun it was. “But I wasn’t talking about the competition… I was … I was talking about the kiss.”

Witt presses the button twice until it lights up blue. He doesn’t respond so I don’t know if he’s waiting me out or if he’s realizing he shouldn’t have done that in public, so I give him a nudge my shoulder against his arm.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say.

“I know.”

“I’m your employee.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” he says. “I’ve never seen a star shine so bright.”

It’s simple to Witt. Just a fact. He needed to kiss me.

“Will there be repercussions from the employees? HR? The board?” I ask, as the doors open smoothly.