The guy blinked. “Dude, what?” He was one of the boys from earlier—Alaric or Geoff, I still wasn’t sure. This boy had dirty blond hair, clear brown eye, and a sharp square jaw.

In one hand Gray held Lottie’s lemon cakes; his other held Alaric-or-Geoff by the back of his suit collar.

Gray’s jaw flexed. “Look where you’re going, dumbass.” He shoved him forward, making him stumble like I had. Alaric-or-Geoff walked a few paces away, situating himself on a stone wall that wrapped around the terrace. He pulled out a cigarette, eyeing me with a wrinkled brow.

When I looked away, I found Grayson watching me. This time his eyes burned; they smoldered and crackled.

“Grayson?”

The moment snapped in two. Grayson looked away, and I turned to find Lottie du Lac. Her two best friends, Aundi and Pipa, flanked her. If Lottie was a princess, the same couldn’t be said for her friends. They were like every mean girl stereotype in existence.

Lottie looked between us. “Were you asking for me?”

“Yeah.”

Lottie looked at me again, and I quickly stared at the floor. Did she recognize me from the night before? It was unusual, though not entirely rare, for a non-Crowne to look us in the eye. We were instructed never to look back.

Lottie’s soft, melodic voice continued. “If this is about last night…”

“It’s not,” Grayson said almost immediately.

“Oh shit, what went down last night?” Alaric-or-Geoff asked from his perch on the wall. He pretended to jerked off into the air toward Lottie, and Aundi shoved him.

“Shut up, Alaric,” Aundi said.

Alaric. The blond one is Alaric. I made a mental note as he fell backward into Mrs. Crowne’s favorite lilacs, laughing.

Grayson shifted the box he was holding, decorated in a sparkling white bow and feathers. Inside sat four lemon cakes with the cursive letter L.

Lottie rolled her softly glossed lips together, as if not wanting to ask her next question. “Who did I see you with last night?”

I stared at the grass like it would grow holes.

“Some random. Meant nothing.”

I wished I could scarify his words on the part of my heart that wouldn’t won’t stop fluttering. The part of my soul that kept trying to sneak peeks into his.

This is the girl he’s going to be with. This is his future wife.

I’m just a thief.

None of this is for me.

Grayson thrust the box out without emotion. “Here, this was lying around, and I heard you liked them.”

Lying around?

I wanted to shout out, strangle him. Tell her how much trouble you went to to get that damn box. How much you care. Stop lying.

“They’re lemon—” Grayson started, only to be broken off by Lottie’s scream.