I SCREAM AS we walk into the restaurant on Friday night. “What?” He tries to pretend that he didn’t just shove his entire arm up my dress. I have got to start wearing pants more often. “Stop.” I bat his arm away. “You didn’t say stop this morning.” He laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “No, but if you keep it up, I will tonight.” He laughs louder. Leaning down, he kisses my hair and whispers, “Liar.” We walk hand in hand into the restaurant. Mason got here ahead of us. He was over at the college helping some of the students prep for a big show next weekend. He’s already sitting in the booth when I slide in on the opposite side. Hunter slides in beside me. “Hey, Mase.” I smile, and he gives me a subtle lip twitch, which I’ve learn is the equivalent of a full-blown smile for Mason. In the two months since this whole arrangement started, Mason has always stuck to the ‘no touching in public’ rule. Everyone thinks I’m with Hunter, and I know that bothers him.
