Page 35 of Revenge Puck

“Awkward between us?” I repeat. “I don’t feel awkward. Do you?”

He shakes his head. “No, but?—”

He stops, and on its own accord, my body leans forward, anxious to hear him finish his sentence. Hang on his every word…

“Juliette Kennedy, do you want to have dinner with me tonight? Let me buy you a proper dinner. We can talk about what happened at your apartment—ornottalk about what happened.”

Slowly, my head nods.

Yes, I want to have dinner with you tonight.

I do.

“I like food,” I tell him, praying that the heat in my chest isn’t creeping up my neck.

He leans down so only I can hear. “I like food, too.” I feel his lips near my ear. “Should the date be our little secret?”

“Yes,” I whisper, another nod.

“Good.” He straightens to his full height, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and I watch, transfixed, as he licks his lips, pressing a finger to them. “Shhh.”

Then, from across the room?—

“Juliette!” Garrett shouts. “They have miniature crab cakes on the menu. Miniature!”

I jump back from Aaron as if I’ve been tasered, spell broken.

His walls go up.

Game face on.

Across the room, Garrett waves a tiny appetizer tray at me like it’s the discovery of the century.

With a heavy sigh, I force myself to smile.

SIX

AARON

Juliette Kennedy wants to be bad.

I can see it on her sweet, innocent face.

“Should the date be our little secret?”

“Yes.”

For now.

“Good.” Guilt flashes across her expression when I hold a finger to my lips. “Shh.”

I shouldn’t have fucking asked her on a date, and that’s the truth. She is the one person in this ballroom I should not be thinking about, let alone inviting for dinner. Everyone knows the Golden Rule: Don’t date staff, coaches, reporters.

Not casually.

Not secretly.

Not at all.