If only that had been the end of it. But it wasn’t. He was back that afternoon and mom insisted I take him a glass of lemonade.

I kicked his leg and he slid out with grease marks on his cheeks and hands that only made him hotter.

The universe’s unfairness had never been clearer than Dare looking like a cover model wheeling out from under my mom’s junker of a car. If I’d had a team of stylists and beauty professionals dress me and do my makeup, I’d never be more than catalog cute. He was super-model searing without even trying.

“From my mom.” I shoved the glass toward him.

“It’s not from you? Did you make it yourself?” He set the wrench down on the concrete and drew his knees up, resting his back against the side panel of the car. His gaze locked onto mine, holding it and not letting me look away.

My pulse pounded, and my stomach back flipped into next week. “Just take it.”

“Did you poison it?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes, I dropped in one of my cyanide capsules that I keep on hand for annoying neighbors.”

He didn’t say a word, only let me stand there with my arm extended, not making a move to take the glass.

My hand shook. I jerked it back and took a sip. “See, not poisoned.” I took a step closer and held it out again.

His gray eyes twinkled with amusement. He shot up, so his body brushed against mine on the way up, not trying to make room at all for my personal space. His fingers curled over mine before he pulled the glass from my grasp.

Instead of drinking from the side of glass closest to him, he turned it in his hold and took a sip from my side of the glass. My lip prints melted away by his. He didn’t drop his gaze or look away.

He froze me in my tracks like a deer caught in headlights after a long night in the forest.

“Delicious.”

That broke the thread of hypnosis and I stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the empty air.

He held out his hands to catch me, but I smacked them away, keeping one eye on him as I rushed up the stairs and into the house.

“Thanks, Bay.”

The way he said my name. His voice traced its way down my spine. The single syllable made me shiver.

* * *

I stayed in my room until he packed up and left. Why was he screwing with me like that? What the hell?

Let’s make Bay insanely uncomfortable, hot and bothered, and then what? Make fun of me behind my back when I threw myself at him? Guess what TNG did? And then they could all laugh until they cried.

With the coast clear, I hopped on my bike and headed to school. Weekend rehearsals always started in the month leading up to opening night, giving Mrs. Tripp extra chances to lose her mind and storm out of the production.