“August?” I laughed. “You’re joking right? That guy doesn’t have a daring bone in his body.”

He lowered his hands. His eyes red from the pressure. “Is that what you think?”

“I mean come on, you have to agree. The only crazy thing August has ever done was I don’t know—get an A-minus in math?” I dried a laughter tear from my eye.

“What’s your point?”

“I’m saying this is so not something he would do—August is straightlaced. Mr. Perfect would never be caught dead in stall with a girl.” I slapped on a pout for effect. “And… I doubt he’d ever let a girl down.” I raised a challenging brow.

His tongue shifted in his mouth momentarily until something shifted in him. Stepped toward me, he pressed a firm hand to my stomach and backed me against the tile wall. “I’m going to need some room.”

Troy brought his fingers to his shirt. Holding my gaze, he unbuttoned and peeled the fabric off sharply, deliberately. My heart raced—or did it stop? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that his body was beautiful—and instantly intimidating. As if broad shoulders, powerful chest, and abs carved to perfection wasn’t enough, he pulled down his pants challenging my ability to breathe like a normal human.

My pulse quickened and my throat clogged with panic when he stood before me in nothing but his boxer briefs.

When his thumbs hooked along the band to pull them down, I held my hands out in front of me, blocking the view. “Stop.”

Alarmed, he paused and cocked a brow.

My chest heaved, but I managed to speak. “H-hold that thought—I need to—um...” With a breath, I remembered my purpose, remembered who this was.

This was Troy and he was dirt and deserved what was coming. Grabbing him by the shoulders, I shoved his clothes out from under the stall door with one foot and then flipped him, pushing him against the wall.

I mustered the most seductive voice I could. “Wait right here.” Taking one last look at him, I opened the stall and started to gather his clothes, reaching for my pocketbook last.

“Harper?” he called.

With arms full of his clothes, I raced to the door. “Your fans are waiting, Troy Hartman. Go get your Queen.”

“Harper, stop. Wait.”

Leaving his flustered tone behind me, I raced out, clutching every article to my chest and glancing around the space before slipping through the back door.

The cool October chill wiped the heat of adrenaline away and I shivered as I dumped his clothes in the back-alley trash bin.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then waited eagerly for that invigorating feeling to wash over me. Or hell even the slightest satisfaction for finally getting back at Troy for what went down on Prom night.

And waited.