Page 9 of Ruthless Court

For one second, he looks nervous.

Maybe he is.

My father’s contacts are riding on the answer.

“Hannah Banana.” His voice carries over the crowd. “Prom?”

Everyone waits.

I could say no.

I could tell them what I heard.

I could point at Brooke and watch the hallway turn toward her.

Then Ryan would deny it.

Brooke would cry.

People would ask why I followed them.

They would dissect every message, photograph, and stupid moment I mistook for something real.

By lunch, I would be the girl who believed Ryan McBride liked her.

By dinner, someone would give me a nickname.

I look at the basketball taped to his sign.

Dad corrected Ryan’s release before school today.

He will probably see this video before practice.

Ryan knows it.

That is why he chose the hallway.

The hurt inside me cools.

Hardens.

I smile.

The exact expression I practiced in Mom’s mirror.

Surprised.

Happy.

Not too eager.

“Yes.”

The hallway erupts.

Ryan drops the sign and hugs me while cameras capture every angle.

His arms close around my waist. His mouth brushes my temple.