“Just tell me what she said. Everything.” My hands clench the steering wheel, and I realize that her dangling that Cosmo article in front of me has been on my mind more than I thought.

A long sigh comes from him. “Sophia is hot, man. Smoking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She was real into me too.”

“Just get to the point, Alabama,” I growl, anger ratcheting up, and it isn’t because I even fucking care that he was with her, but I’m so goddamn annoyed that she’s manipulating me.

“Look, I showed her a great time. We had dinner, danced, but she said she wants to see you, and she’ll sign whatever you want.”

I lean back on the headrest. “You failed, Alabama.”

“I did not! I did everything you wanted, man—I did, but it’s you she wants to see.”

I curse. It was a half-assed idea anyway. My gut knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she laid her eyes on me and said whatever she wanted to get out.

“Does this mean you’re not going to help me? Dude, come on. I put all my charm out, and I got that in spades—women fucking adore me. I did my best—”

I hang up on him and call Lawrence, my teeth gritted.

“Yo! What up? Tried to call you earlier. Have you seen that video of you and Elena? It’s not bad. Very chivalrous. I’m still waiting for her NDA—”

“Fuck that. Get with the lawyers and send the tightest nondisclosure you can come up with to Sophia. She’ll never say one fucking word about me again as long as she fucking lives. Do it now, Lawrence; I want this mess over and done with. Tell her once she signs it, I’ll meet her. She can say her piece. And then it’s done. Got it?”

I hear him rustling around, probably writing it down. “Got it.” He sighs. “I know you hate this. I’m sorry, man. You sure you can deal with her?”

My jaw pops. I don’t know what it will be like to actually see her again.

But I want her out of my hair. Forever.

Plus, it makes my gut clench to picture Elena and her whole family reading about whatever shit she decides to come up with next. And now that reporters know Elena’s face, they’ll get a name soon, and what if they hound her, dig into her past, figure out the lingerie?

Later, I pull into Elena’s driveway. Topher’s car is gone still. He left to hang out with Devon and Quinn at the Razor. Pretty sure he just wanted to give us some time alone.

Taylor Swift music is blaring from a speaker as I walk in the door, and Romeo pops out of a little tent in the den and glares at me. I’m not sure how I feel about the little pig. He follows Elena everywhere, throwing snippy glances at me.

“Hey, dude,” I say. “Where’s your mama?” I walk into the spacious kitchen, setting the food down on her island. Romeo sits at the doorway, watching me.

“Want some garlic bread, little piggy?” I pull out one of the garlic knots and dangle it in my fingers.

His snout twitches.

“No?” I take a big bite. “So good, mmm.”

He shuffles, dipping his head as he gets up off his haunches and walks slowly to me, eyes on the bread.

“You can have this, right?” I say, bending down to scratch his head.

Give me, give me, his brown eyes say.

I hold it close to his mouth, a little unsure about those teeth. He snatches it faster than I thought he would, and I jerk and fall back on my butt. He gives me a condescending stare—Amateur—and runs back to the den.

Laughter comes, and I look over at Elena, who’s come in, hair wet, wearing long pajama pants with unicorns on them and a tank top. “Are you scared of Romeo?”

“No! He just startled me. His teeth nipped me.”

“You trying to bribe him with bread?”

I stand up, scoffing. “No.”

She wanders over to the pizza, takes out a slice from the supreme, and takes a big bite and chews. “God, this is so good.” She sways over to the cabinet and pulls out plates, grabs napkins and sodas from the fridge. I watch her, the way she moves, hips swishing, completely at ease as she arranges our food. She takes a seat on a stool and pats the one next to her. “Come on; let’s eat.” Her eyes drop. “Thank you for today, by the way. You guys did everything so fast. Saved me so much time.”

Nerves ramp up as I take her in, not wanting to end our camaraderie. I need to tell her about Sophia.

Shit. I don’t want to.

I take a slice and eat instead, my head weird, messed up.

How will Elena feel about me seeing Sophia? Is she going to freak out?

What are we?

Do I really need to tell her?

Somebody will tell her . . .

Damn, it’s been such a good day.

Do I have to go and ruin it?

She laughs, her eyes gleaming over at me.

“What?” I say.

She takes a drink from a Sun Drop. “Are you even aware that you’re humming to Taylor Swift? I love this song.”

I grin, relaxing. For a minute there, I thought she might see how torn I am.

I cock my head. “‘You Belong with Me’?”

“Damn. You even know the name of it.” She giggles. “Hmm, high school song about the girl who wants the guy who’s dating the cheerleader.”

“I was just thinking about what you were like in high school.”

“Badass nerd.”

“Knew it. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

“Oh, I would have looked all right.” She sends me a little grin. “Sing it for me.”

I roll my eyes. “Can’t a man eat in peace? And why do you want me to? My voice is terrible.”

“Sing it! Sing it!” She pounds her fists on the counter.

“Dammit, woman. No. Your knees were a special case. How are they?”

“Fine. Please, Jack, pretty please. I promise to do whatever you want later . . .” Her eyes glint, a wicked gleam there—and I’m lost.

I set my pizza down and pick up the chorus, singing along with Taylor as she goes to the verse about the guy in his faded jeans and how the girl wants him even though he’s with the wrong girl, when she’s the one who understands him. She knows his favorite songs and his dreams and wants him to see her.

Elena watches me avidly, her chest still, as I wrap up the song. I should feel like a total idiot. But I don’t.

It’s her, and shit . . .

She gets me.

I can hum Taylor Swift all day long, and she might be the only person who knows it.

There are a few moments of silence when I finish, the stereo bleeding into another song.

She’s staring at me . . . like . . . like . . .

I don’t want to hurt her.

“Elena, I have to tell you something.”

She pauses, frowning at my short tone as she picks up another piece of pizza. “Sounds serious.”

“I’m going to meet with Sophia soon.”

Her eyes flicker, her face carefully blank. “You’re still talking to her?”

“No. I never want to see her again, but she wants to meet. She says that she’ll sign a document that she’ll never talk about me again. That’s the only reason I’m going. She wanted me to go to this gala thing, but I sent Aiden, and he was supposed to—forget that. It’s me she wants.”

“Ah. Is that why you turned down lunch tomorrow?” She pats her mouth with a napkin and stands.

I pause, grimacing. No, that was just . . . I don’t know . . . shit . . . too much, too soon.

I can’t answer that, so I say, “I don’t want to see her—you know that, right?”

The kitchen grows tense, and I swallow, seeing hesitation on her face, that tiny bit of distance that’s— “Elena, if I don’t, then who knows what she comes up with next? She’s dangling this abortion issue, and I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea when you see it or hear about it or—”

“Did you ever love her, Jack?”

I lick my lips, thinking for a second. “No.”

“You hesitated.”

“I dated her. She came to games and parties. I cared about her.”

“Have you ever been with a girl you couldn’t live without? College?”

“Never had the time it took. Never wanted to get too involved. Football always came first.”

Her face shutters more, her eyes down as she stares at the pizza. “I see.”

“Are you angry?”

She taps her fingers on the island, mulling, then looking up at me. “I’m not angry about you seeing her. She betrayed you.”

Thank you, Jesus!

“I’m over her.”

A wry, wan smile comes from her. “I know. You let girls go and never look back.”

I frown, not liking that tone at all. “Elena, can we just forget her and move on?”

“Sure.” Her hands tremble as she closes the pizza boxes and picks up our plates and puts them in the trash. She darts her eyes at me. “What’s going to happen when the play is over . . . with us?”

I frown. I . . . I don’t know.

Will she still want to see me?

Will she, I don’t know, get tired of the distance I keep . . .

“We can talk about that later. We just . . . need time.” It’s a total cop-out, but my gut has knotted up. I’m scared, okay, fucking scared.

She plucks at a napkin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I’m hanging by a thread, searching her blank face, wondering what else I could have said. The room feels tense, and I’m scared she’s going to tell me to take a hike— Fuck it.

I walk over to her and lace our hands together. I stare down at her. “I’ll be thinking about you when I see her. Just you. Even when she’s sitting across from me. You . . . I trust you, Elena.”