Page 50 of PR Stunt

I straighten immediately, pulling away so fast that I nearly knock into the door.

The warmth disappears from my side all at once.

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. “Well, now Anna and Miranda will be doubly thrilled with tonight.”

Still, nothing. I glance at him, expecting a comment or a joke, something, but Grayson just watches me. The air in the car feels heavier now, stretching out between us.

I shift in my seat, pushing past the silence and filling it with words I don’t even really think about. “I mean, this was a solid performance. Definitely top quality. We really sold it.” I let out a breathy laugh, reaching for the door handle. “And look at that, Dolly is unscathed. One of the rare girls who escaped your thrall.” What even is that sentence? Your thrall? Who says that? Apparently, I do now. Great.

Something crosses across his face, but before I can place it, he moves. He unclips his seat belt and opens his door. He steps out without another word, rounding the car, and I realize he’s not heading for my side. I watch, a little thrown, as he walks past me to his bike.

I sit there, gripping the strap of my bag as he swings a leg over the sleek black machine. Is he…

Annoyed?

Unfreezing from my spot, I jumped out of my car. He secures his helmet and then finally looks at me. The corner of his mouth lifts, just slightly, and he tosses me my keys. “Goodnight, Charlie. By the way… You owe me a new shirt for drooling on it.”

Any comeback dies on my tongue as he starts the engine, the deep rumble cutting through the night, and takes off down the street. I stand there for a second, gripping the strap of my bag, and watch the red glow of his taillight disappear. Unbelievable. He’s always getting the last word.

And I don’t drool.

Inside, my house is quiet. I set down my bag, moving through the motions. Plugging my phone in beside my bed, I’m about to switch it to Do Not Disturb when a new notification lights up the screen.

@graysoncole has started following you.

My eyes fly open. I tap the notification. There’s no way. I type his name into the search bar, just to be sure. And there it is, clear as day.

Grayson Cole.

Followers: 60 million.

Following: 1

I stare at the one, my pulse thrumming in my ears. That can’t be right. I tap it, and the one and only name appears.

Charlie Grace

My heart stutters. I don’t know why, but this feels…

It’s nothing. It’s just strategy, Charlie. Get over yourself.

Reluctantly, I follow back. I know Anna would have my head if I didn’t. I flop onto my pillow.

But when I close my eyes, I can still feel the warmth of his shoulder against my temple. Worse, I can still hear his voice in my head. You need me. What I need is a psych eval.

Chapter 18

It starts with blue eyes.

Not just any blue. His blue. Deep, impossibly rich at the edges, like the ocean under moonlight.

Near the center, a softer blue. The kind that sees me.

His voice is a slow drawl, full of amusement. “Up late thinking about me again?”

I blink, and suddenly, I’m not sure where I am. The details shift—soft lighting, the scent of a crackling campfire in the air. My skin is buzzing. It’s the kind of dream where everything feels too real.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, and it rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it sticks to me.