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Ha. Perfect hair doesn’t exist on a catwalk, where it’s a million degrees. “I’ve been wearing this ball cap for years, Fulton.” I scowled at him.

“Crowley Cardinals,” he mumbled. “Saw the new statues all around town too. Bet they threw a parade for it.”

They did. Dad made me ride in a convertible with him and Mom. I hated those damn statues—not that I’d admit it to him. “Jealous?” I asked.

He pulled up his legs and stood.

Geez, he was a lot taller.

“Ha. No. Just surprised your dad couldn’t come up with a better mascot. Weren’t you the Robins before that?” He laughed.

“The Blue Jays,” I hissed. “And what’s the Fulton mascot? A gnat?”

His jaw twitched. “The Hawks.”

Crud. That’s actually pretty good.

Lauryn yelled from below. “Hey, E! You about done up there? Sparrow has some questions and said you forgot to wear your radio.”

Dammit. Not the way I wanted to start. “Be right there!”

Reed peered over the edge. “Is Lauryn in the play?”

“She’s the lead.”

Reed nodded, looking impressed. “Badass.”

Well, that’s one thing we agree on.

“I really need to get going now.” I moved to pass him, but he turned around too quickly and bumped into me. My clipboard dropped and clattered down the ladder, and I stumbled forward. For the longest second, I was weightless.

I opened my mouth to scream, but Reed grabbed both my arms and pulled me against him, knocking us into R1.

My ear pressed against his hard chest, the hammering of his heart reminding me of the bass drums warming up outside of a stadium before a football game. His strong shoulders and heavy arms radiated heat.

This is…new.

I had stumbled into Reed once before, many years ago, when we raced down Main Street. The winner had to buy the other a milkshake at Scoops. Reed had tripped on his shoelaces, and both of us crashed into the mulch pile outside of Mrs. Brown’s Thrift Store. A mess of gangly limbs and scratched from neck to knee, we hurried away to our separate parts of town before we were forced to clean up the mess.

One malted milkshake sat on my front porch an hour later.

But this?

This felt…different.

That’s because you almost just died, genius. “Tha…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” His breath warmed my forehead. He smelled like sun-warmed metal and the oil of a glove. Not that I smelled him or anything.

I pulled away, still feeling as dizzy as—if not more so than—when I stumbled. He held out my mask, and my hand shook as I took it.

“Oh, I get it.” His thumb brushed over the writing on the back of my hand. “Those letters and numbers are the order of lights, right?”

Right.

Lauryn yelled from below. “Eliza! You okay?”

I quickly pulled my hand away. “I’m fine! Heading down now.”