Renna Rose Lancaster never searched for love.
She stumbled into it long before she was old enough to know what to call it.
It lived inside flower crowns that barely survived a minute on his head. Pebbles he slipped into her pockets because every tre...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My stomach refused to stay still. It fluttered and flipped so violently I thought I might throw up. My heart catapulted into my throat. My fingers kept smoothing the hem of my skirt, the pale pink plaid fabric whispering under my hands. The puff sleeves brushed my arms every time I moved, and the ruched bodice hugged too close, cinching me into something prettier, braver, more.
I had spent an hour this morning convincing myself it wasn't too much. That he wouldn't look at me and think I'd tried too hard. That he might pause. And that pause would be mine.
Neil's stare caught me mid-fidget. His gaze dragged down my dress, too direct, too knowing.
The words escaped before I could stop them. "Do I... look okay?"
For a moment, something in his expression flickered. Softer, gentler. His lips pressed together, like he was weighing whether honesty was dangerous. "You are parfait, Mademoiselle. Toujours. Asking is inutile."
(You are perfect, Miss. Always. Asking is pointless.)
I smiled at him. "Merci, Neil."
He didn't smile back. He only straightened his cuffs, as though he had already revealed too much.
A low growl of an engine rolled across the street.
I turned.
A motorbike. Black and silver, polished to a gleam, crawling onto Bath Street like some wild animal.
The rider swung one long leg over, tugged off his helmet.
Aadam.
Wind-mussed hair, that easy furrow of his brows, lips curving into a grin that felt like it was meant only for me. A navy jumper stretched across his shoulders, the fabric creased where the helmet strap had pressed. He looked like dusk had made him and then decided he deserved a little more light.
And then the other helmet came off.
Cameron.
What?
For one foolish second, my brain refused to compute it. But no, there he was, blonde hair flattened and sticking at odd angles, shaking it out with all the smugness in the world.
This wasn't the plan he texted me.
It was supposed to be just us.
Not him. Not this nosy interruption.
I ignored the crack in my chest and pasted on a smile.
Aadam pulled his gloves free, his grin tilting wider as he reached me. "Hey, you."
Two words and my body became starlight.
"Hi," I breathed, my own grin stretching so wide it hurt.
Before my brain could stop me, I stepped in and wrapped my arms around him. He kissed the top of my head without hesitation, casual, thoughtless, and it lit me up like fire.
