Page 72 of Held-

“I’ll have you know I was a very well-behaved teenager.”

“Bullshit,” he says, grinning. “Nobody’s that good.”

I take another bite of pizza to avoid answering, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. The truth is, I wasn’t nearly as rebellious as some of the other kids, but I had my moments. Little things my father never knew about. Sneaking out after curfew. A stolen beer with Emma behind the community center. Fun in small doses. Nowhere near the chaos my friends chased.

“Fine,” I concede. “Maybe I wasn’t completely innocent. But compared to you, I was practically a saint.”

Brayden leans back, one arm stretched across the back of the booth. The motion pulls his T-shirt snug across his chest, and I catch a glimpse of ink curling out from under his sleeve.

“If you still want to live some of those teenage dreams,” he says, voice low, “I can make that happen, princess.”

The look he gives me sends heat blooming in my cheeks. There’s something about Brayden’s casual promises of sin, delivered in that gravel-drenched tone, that makes my pulse skip.

“You’re terrible.”

“And yet, here you are.”

His gaze holds mine across the table, and for a moment, I forget we’re in a public place. I forget everything except the memory of his hands on my skin.

The bell above the door jingles and the spell shatters. I glance over and immediately regret it. Ethan walks in with Britney on his arm. Her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow like she always belonged there.

“Shit,” I mutter, ducking my head.

Brayden’s posture shifts instantly. His shoulders tense as he watches my ex make his way across the restaurant.

“Want to leave?” he asks, already half-rising.

“No,” I say, surprised by the steel in my own voice. “I’m not running from him anymore.”

Brayden settles back, but the easygoing calm from earlier is gone.

I try to focus on my pizza, silently praying Ethan won’t notice us. But of course, the universe can’t resist irony. He moves toward our booth, all smugness and smiles.

“Still slumming it, Cece?”

Brayden’s jaw locks.

“Funny,” I reply, voice steady. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Ethan’s smile is razor-thin. “I see you’ve fully committed to your little rebellion.” His gaze flicks dismissively over Brayden before snapping back to me. “Your father is beside himself, youknow. The whole congregation is praying for your return to sanity.”

I take a deliberate bite of my pizza, chewing slowly before answering. “How thoughtful. And here I was worried no one would notice I'm having the time of my life.”

Britney shifts uncomfortably beside him, her bleached-blonde hair falling in perfect curls around her surgically enhanced features. She tugs at Ethan's arm. “Baby, our table's ready.”

Ethan ignores her, leaning down until his hands are flat on our table. “This won't last, Cece. You know that, right? Whatever thrill you're getting from this—” he flicks his gaze toward Brayden, “—criminal will ruin you.”

I feel Brayden's energy shift beside me. “The only thing that will be ruined is your fucking face, when I rearrange it with my fist, asshole.”

Ethan's eyes narrow, but he doesn't move. “Go ahead. I'm sure assault charges would look great on top of your already impressive record.”

“Ethan, stop,” I hiss. “Just go to your table.”

Britney tugs harder at his arm. “Please, baby. People are staring.”

They are. The few other customers in Tony's are watching our table with undisguised interest. In a town this small, public confrontations are better than television.

Ethan straightens, adjusting his collar with a flick of his wrist. “You'll come to your senses eventually, Cece. And when you do, don't expect anyone to welcome you back with open arms. You've made your choice.”