Page 52 of The Last Love Story

He presses his palm against mine. “But play along for now, please? We’ll pretend. Smile for the cameras, pretend that we’re madly in love. We’ll keep my dad happy until I can figure something out.”

I nod. I can do that, can’t I? It won’t be hard. It feels natural to slip back into Callum’s life, into his touch.

The hard part, a little voice in my head tells me, will be remembering that it’s not real.

I look at our intertwined hands, and then move my gaze up to his.

His eyes gutter, pupils so wide that they’re more black than blue. I’m probably projecting. IknowI’m projecting. I’ve written things like this. I’ve written this moment.

But it feels real. His eyes drop to my lips, and everything goes still.

The sound of the lock on my door twisting cuts through the moment like a knife, and in less than a second, we’re both standing.

A figure all in black cracks the bedroom door, and afamiliar voice calls inside. “Ms. Hart, are you decent?” it asks.

That voice. I wish it were anyone else, but it’s him. Hux.

I panic, eyes wide as I turn to Callum, who moves quietly to the French doors. He tries to open them, but the hinges squeak loudly. He stops and swears, silently.

“No, nope. Not decent at all,” I call back, rushing over to slam the door in Hux’s face. I wave at Callum, motioning for him togo, but he tries the door again—and it sticks.

I put my hands over my face. This can’t be happening.

“Well,” Hux continues in his fake professional voice, inching the door back open until it hits my heel, “we’ve had word of a credible threat. I need to clear the room.”

“Just a moment!” I shut the door again.

Callum’s wide eyes meet mine, and we both pantomime terribly, trying to figure out what to do, as Hux once again squeaks the door open.

Eventually, I point under the bed.

Callum presses his lips together and cocks his head likeSeriously?

“Ripley,” Hux says, and the way he says it—like he knows me—draws Callum’s attention.

I don’t know what I’m more scared of: Hux finding Callum and trying to hurt him, or Callum seeing Hux and being hurt by him. I rush over, yanking at the door to the courtyard until my hands burn.

“Ms. Hart, this is really time-sensitive,” Hux says. He’steasing me, like he would in class. Playing with me, like he’s been doing this whole time.

“Just—a—moment!” I eke out, huffing as I tug.

Finally, the door creaks open. Callum and I both wince, but Callum sneaks through the small opening.

“These gosh darn pajamas,” I say, to keep up my ruse, unsure if I’m lying to protect Callum or Hux.

Callum surprises me by sticking his head back in quickly. For a second, I assume he forgot something. But then he does something that sends my heart skittering in every direction—he kisses me on the cheek.

“Good night,” he breathes.

I shoot him a shocked look, and he smiles like I haven’t seen him smile since we were ten. And then he disappears into the darkness of the courtyard.

I can’t help the goofy look on my face as Hux kicks the bedroom door all the way open, unwilling to wait any longer. As he strides in, he brushes his sleeves to his elbows, revealing dark tattoos that snake up his forearms.

As I stare, he pulls a knife from his belt with one hand while using the other to pull back the door, as if someone could be hiding behind it the way he booted it open.

I hazard a glance into the hall to make sure we’re alone before I punch him in the shoulder as hard as I can. Which, with all my training, is really hard.

He grunts and then looks down at me, annoyed but not as injured as I was hoping. “Don’t do that.”