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Grace’s smile turns wicked. “Oh, I think I could get you on your back pretty easily.”

There it is. She’s really out here mocking me now. I try to do one nice thing—give her a little attention while she’s stuck in hiding—and suddenly she thinks she’s running the show.

Cute.

The answer is still no. I’m done giving in to her.

…Even if that confidence is extremely sexy.

“What are we going to do for the rest of the afternoon then?” I ask.

She hesitates, twisting the grip of her racket between her fingers. “Go home, I suppose,” she says. The spark in her voice dies instantly.

I watch her for a second. She doesn’t want to go home. It’s written all over her face. Truth is, I don’t want to go back to the guest house either. It’s boring as hell.

I grab my hoodie off the bench and hold it out to her. “Put this on.”

She eyes it suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to the movies,” I say, “and they always crank the aircon in there like it’s the Arctic.”

She hesitates, then takes it and slides it on. The hoodie absolutely swallows her. Something about seeing her in my clothes does dangerous things to me.

Jesus, I’m pathetic.

I clear my throat. “If you’re a good girl on the way there, no fussing, I’ll get you an ice cream.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, clearly fighting a smile. “Fine. But I’m picking the movie. And you’re not allowed to complain if it’s girly.”

I grin, already heading for the gate. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The theater is nearly empty for the afternoon showing. We take seats near the back. I bought her the double-scoop salted caramel I promised. She eats it slowly during the previews, looking far too smug for someone who just got bribed with ice cream.

Then, of course, she reaches for my drink. Even though she specifically said she didn’t want one.

I hand it over without a word. She takes a long sip, then another, before passing it back.

That’s the thing about Grace—if she wants something, she just takes it. I like that about her. More than I should.

She catches me staring at her mouth.

I drag my eyes back to the screen.

She picked a thriller, of course. Grace looks like pure innocence, but underneath? There’s something dark in her. She likes danger. Sharp edges. The thrill of being a little scared.

Explains why she’s so obsessed with me.

But she can’t have me anymore.

I behave myself the entire movie. No arm sliding around her shoulders. No hand on her thigh in the dark. No leaning over to kiss her when the lights go down.

I sit there like a fucking saint.

I’m not even tempted.

…Okay, that’s a lie. I’m tempted. Constantly. But I don’t act on it.

Near the end I must drift off, because a soft nudge against my shoulder wakes me.