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“Two.”
She grins so wide her dimple pops as we say together, “Three.”
The familiar taste of beef and bread fills my mouth as I sink my teeth into the burger. I fight off a laugh, knowing it’ll make me choke when she takes almost as big of a bite, ketchup squirting out the side and smearing across her cheek.
I set the burger down and chew, watching her clean the ketchup with her tongue. She’s adorable—so fucking cute it makes my chest ache.
There’s no explanation for why I blurt out my next words other than her presence has worn down every single one of my walls, exposing me to her completely.
“I got the job at the university. I start in September.”
Her burger falls from her fingers, splatting onto her plate. Genuine pride fills her expression as she smiles, reaching for me again. This time when she takes my hand, I decide I don’t want her to let go of it again.
“Are you kidding me? This is amazing news! Oh my God, are you freaking out inside? This is your dream,” she gushes.
“I’ve been freaking out inside since I got the call. I still can’t believe it.”
“How did I not hear about this sooner? This is incredible. You deserve this job more than anyone!”
“You’re the only one I’ve told,” I admit.
She pauses, searching my face for any hint of a lie. “Seriously? Why? It’s not that I’m not flattered, but everyone will be so, so proud of you, Sparrow.”
I flip our hands and stare at the tattoo on her finger, almost finding comfort in it.
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m going to tell them as soon as we get back.”
“For the record, I always knew it was going to happen.”
I arch a brow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re brilliant and incredibly talented. It would have absolutely been their loss to turn you away.”
I pull our hands to my mouth and brush my lips across her knuckles. Her breath hitches, and I do it again, suddenly addicted to that sound.
“Thank you, love.”
A gasp this time. “Did you just ca—”
“Are you Adalyn Hutton?” a nervous, non-accented voice asks.
Addie tightens her grip on my fingers as if her first instinct is to turn to me for help before she reluctantly pulls her hand away. I nearly snatch it again before thinking better of it.
She turns to face the two girls standing at our table, both of whom have their phones in their hands, the screens open and cameras on.
“Yeah. That’s me.” Her smile is fake, so un-Adalyn-like.
The tall redheaded girl standing beside the shorter brunette turns a deep shade of pink and giggles. “Would we be able to get a picture with you? We’re huge fans.”
I sit back quietly and watch the innocent enough interaction, noting the moment Adalyn becomes uncomfortable.
It’s the brunette, the one with sharp green eyes and a weird sort of arrogance about her, that asks, “Actually, do you think you could give us the name of Noah’s private Instagram? I know you said once that he doesn’t have one, but I saw on Twitter that someone found it.”
I look back at Adalyn and find her frowning at the girl, pushing a pink curl behind her ear. “I’m sorry, but Noah’s private life isn’t your business.”
“That’s your opinion. But as fans of him, I think we should know about these things,” the girl replies, a hand on her hip.
The first girl elbows her friend, glaring. “Don’t,” she whisper hisses.
