Page 79 of Enticing the Enforcer

But I’ve been the girl in someone’s dream

And I know how this ends

You’ve got charm, you’ve got the game

Silver tongue and a well-known name

I let you close, but not too far

You don’t get to say you had me…”

I freeze,the slice of pizza forgotten in my hand.

Shelby’s voice cuts through, low and knowing. “This is so good.”

I don’t look at her. My eyes are locked on Ingrid, framed in light, spilling truth into a microphone.

Because then she hits the chorus, clear and sharp, every syllable a blade.

“That’s all this is…”

Fuck.

I listen to the whole thing, my heart pounding harder with every lyric. A surreal, out-of-body sensation settles low in mygut, heavy and cold. Now I know what her exes feel like, but that’s not me. Right? I’m not an ex.

This song isn’t aboutus.Not the late nights, the way she laughed against my chest, the way we kept choosing each other again and again.

No.

It’s about the night we met. About one kiss and nothing more. A flicker. A moment. Disposable.

The way she sings it’s like that’s where we began and ended.

But that night. That kiss. It hooked me for good, and my mind scrambles back through the last couple of days. The short replies. The simple emojis.Busy. Tired. Talk later.

I wanted to believe it was just the tour, just the chaos of her schedule. My family being in town and graduation.

But now…

The song ends, her voice fading out as the crowd roars. Shelby’s still humming under her breath when I push to my feet, the pizza untouched, my body on autopilot.

“Jefferson?” Shelby’s voice chases after me as I grab my phone off the table and head for the front door. “Are you okay?”

I don’t answer. The porch air hits my face, cooler than the heat brewing inside me.

I scroll to her name. Hit dial.

To my shock, she picks up on the first ring.

“That song,” I say, my voice rougher than I expect. “Why does it feel like a fucking goodbye?”

There’s a pause on the other end, a soft rush of background noise. Then Ingrid’s voice, low and sharp. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

I’m already wracking my brain searching for the answer before she says, “The list, Jefferson. The one with my name at the top. Is it true?”

“How do you…” I inhale sharply, my mind going straight to the wrinkled piece of paper I carried around for so long. “Who told you that?”