I shift against the front fender, twisting one end of his tie around my fingers as I watch. “She’s jealous of my fashionsense.”
He spares me an incredulous look. “You bait her. You walk around this place with your heart on your sleeve, begging to bleed. It’s impossible for her toresist.”
You could teach an AP course on making mebleed.
I knot the bottom of my shirt up around my navel to get relief from the heat. “She can’t handle anyone having anything that could be hers—including thestage.”
“The spotlight’s not all its cracked up to be. Fans don’t want you, they want what they think you possess. And the more you possess, the more people feel entitled totake.”
The edge in his words catches me offguard.
I work a coiled elastic off my wrist, twisting my long hair up in a messy knot and fanning my sweat-damp neck. “Careful, Tyler. Someone might think being Prince of Oakwood is gettingold.”
Tyler shifts to stand in front of me in aheartbeat.
He’s in my space, tall and built and intent, the weight of his attention moving from the car to me. The crisp white shirt, rolled at the sleeves, makes him look gorgeous and a little reckless, like some pirate on a mission to charm anddestroy.
But it’s the expression on his face, that knowing smirk, that pins me in place. It’s as if he just caught me doing somethingfilthy.
“Careful, Annie. Someone might think you give ashit.”
Once, I held his hand and told hisfortune.
Neveragain.
He betrayed me. Hurt me more than Carly’s teasing and pranks evercould.
I want him to back the fuck up, but I can’t speak. Right now, all I can do is take in Tyler’s light cedar scent, his half-lowered lashes, his voice a soft murmur on myskin.
I clear my throat, arch a brow. “Do you needsomething?”
“Yeah, Ido.”
Finally, hemoves.
Down mybody.
My breath hitches as his face is level with my chest, mywaist.
I press my thighs together when his face passes my barelegs.
The heart is supposed to propel blood to your vitalorgans.
Mine’s a traitor. It doesn’t give a fuck if I live ordie.
When he’s this close, it beats forhim.
He drops his wrench in the toolkit at my feet, and I shut my eyes in humiliatedrelief.
Get agrip.
If he ever finds out how I feel, the last of my pride and self-respect will go up inflames.
“What’s this? Don’t tell me you cheated on our English test.” Tyler lifts the edge of my skirt, and I smack his handaway.
“What’s under my skirt is none of yourbusiness.”
He huffs out a breath as he straightens and returns towork.