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“What, you don’t want to hang out with me?” Storm asks, clutching at his chest as if I’ve wounded him.

“You’re too damn goofy, Storm,” I say, trying to be stern but my lips twitch into a smile against my will.

That’s just…that’s just what he does to me.

“Well…I2Iis one of my favorite songs from my childhood, so…” He takes a step forward, forcing me toward the wall until my back hits the cold plaster. He licks his lips, and on anyone else, it’d be an immediate “ew,” but on Storm Sandoval?

Hello, panties. Sorry to drench you.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he says, his voice low, and I forget the fact that we’re standing outside our classroom.

“Noticed what, Storm?” I reply, my voice just as soft as his.

“That you’ve been ignoring me, Sweetness. How am I supposed to make you fall in love with me if you’re always running away?”

My breath traps in my chest.

“Stop playing, Storm,” I whisper. The side of his mouth kicks up in a cocky grin.

“You think I’m playing, Shae?” He leans closer—so close I can feel his minty breath fanning across my lips.

“I…” the single syllable rasps out of me, but Storm doesn’t move.

We stay like that for a long moment. Too long, it feels like, and not nearly long enough.

But Storm must recognize something in my expression, something I struggle to deal with even within my mind, because instead of pushing more—pushing for what he wants and whathe knows I really want as well—he tilts his chin up and places a delicate kiss on my forehead.

It’s like all the chaos in my mind stops, and I’m transported to a place where things are simple, life is fair, and it makes sense for Storm Sandoval to be with me.

“I’m not giving up on us, Shae,” he murmurs, his lips still pressed to my skin.

“I know you aren’t, Storm,” I reply. And that’s what I’m afraid of.

18

STORM

The days that are the most life-changing often start off the most benign.

With our short fall break finally here, I began my day with thoughts of Shae. Of course, she featured in my dreams, as she always does, but I managed not to come all over my sheets this time. I followed up with a brisk run in the downstairs gym and chased the workout with a protein shake.

After a quick nut in the post-workout shower and dressing for the day, I made my way down to the underground garage to grab my Porsche.

Unfortunately, that’s where all normalcy ended—with a hard shove to my back and handcuffs placed on my wrists.

“All right, so. Storm Sandoval…”The man in a dark blue suit enters the interrogation room while looking down at a legal pad. When he flicks his blazer back, the gold FBI badge clipped to his belt glints in the sketchy overhead light.

With a loud sigh, he slaps the folder and pad on the metal table and slides into the chair across from me.

I cross my arms over my chest and try to keep my body very still.

At least they took the cuffs off when we arrived at headquarters.

“Thank you for waiting so patiently,” the man says. “I’m Special Agent McAdams.”

He finally looks up when I don’t reply to his statement. And I won’t say anything—if there’s one thing my father taught me early on, it’s that if I’m ever taken in by law enforcement, ask for our lawyer and keep my fucking mouth shut.

Get pulled over? Shut the fuck up.