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No one reads me like this. No one sees through the polished, perfect shell I present to the world.

I’m not who I was in high school anymore. I’ve evolved. I’ve changed.

I need to regain control of this conversation. I need to push him back onto the defensive before he manages to peel away another layer of my armor without my permission.

“What about you, Ryder? Do you hitchhike often? Or do you just stand around on dark roads hoping women will take pity on you?” I let a hint of playful mockery lace my words.

“I travel light. And I hitchhike when I need to get somewhere. But no…” His gaze drags down to my lips before lifting back to my eyes. “...I’ve never been picked up by someone as pretty as you.”

The compliment hits me low in my stomach, warm and electric. I don’t know why his words affect me; it’s not as if I haven’t been called pretty before, but coming from him has my panties growing damp.

When he says it, it doesn’t come across as a cheesy line.

The truth is in his eyes; in the rasp of his voice.

He’s just making a statement of fact, delivered with a dark sincerity that makes the pulse in my pussy hammer like a drum.

“Does flattery usually get you a free ride?” I play off the fact that his words hit me straight to my core.

I haven’t engaged in this kind of flirting in… well, ever. It’s usually very mundane. Never this exciting.

“It’s not flattery. It’s an observation.” Ryder shifts his weight, crossing one heavy arm over his chest. “So, Harmony... you grew up here, right? Went to Blackwood High?”

I swallow hard, wondering where the hell he’s getting his information from. “I did. A long time ago.”

“What kind of girl were you back then?” The question sounds light on the surface, but the underlying tone is heavy, probing. “Were you one of the popular kids? Sitting at the top of the food chain, running the school with your friends?”

A cold prickle of caution touches the back of my neck.

I remember the velvet couch at Blaire’s house, the laughing, untouchable inner circle that was the four of us who ruled the halls. I remember the way we looked down on everyone else—especially the quiet, invisible ones like Noah.

“What, you don’t already know? I thought you had all the answers?”

More silence.

I exhale loudly enough for him to hear my exasperation.

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

“I had good friends. We were popular, I suppose. People knew who we were,” I say smoothly, choosing my words with extreme care.

“And what did you do with all that popularity?” He leans a fraction closer, his eyes gleaming in the dim dashboard light. “Did you bully the unpopular kids? Use your little throne to pick on the ones who couldn’t fight back? Or were you more accepting of others?”

The question feels like a trap.

A suffocating tension, sharp enough to cut, fills the car.

I glance at his large hands, at the dark, mysterious stains on his denim, at the lethal promise written in every line of his face.

I can’t let him know about the cruelty that lived inside me fifteen years ago—the reason that still drives me back to this town every Halloween.

So, I force a soft, gentle warmth into my expression as I look over at him.

And I lie. Smoothly. Instantly. Without a single tremor in my voice. “I was friendly to everyone. I always looked out for the little guy. I couldn’t stand seeing people get picked on.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, the air inside the car turns to pure ice.

Ryder doesn’t blink. The corner of his mouth that curved up early completely fades.