I raise a brow.

He shrugs as the girl starts patting down his chest. Not even focusing on where the true mess lies. On the bar.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again. Her little pats slow down until she’s just resting her hands on Nate’s chest, looking up at a man who doesn’t even spare her a glance.

I flick my eyes to his new friend, and slowly realization dawns on Nate’s face. Like he forgets she’s there at all.

I almost hate to see him look away as he gives her his infuriating smile instead of me.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he tells her gently. His large hands reach up and swallow her petite wrists before slowly pulling them off his body.

“Oh my god, you’re Nate Ford,” she gasps, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Guilty.” His smile turns blinding, and my eyes roll again with a shake of my head.

“Ahh! I can’t believe it. My friends and I are such huge fans of yours.” She points across the bar to a high top with three other girls, all staring this way with rapt attention.

Please.My eyes can’t stop rolling. They’re not even trying to hide what they’re doing.

Then again, why do I care?

They’re technically saving me from talking to Nate right now. I should be thanking them. Instead, all I feel is a swell of annoyance.

Ugh. Enough. Time to go find Kylie.

I start walking away from the bar when I hear Nate tell his groupie, “Hey, let me finish talking with my friend here, and I’ll meet you and your friends at your table in a bit.”

The one thing I will never disparage about Nate is his love for his fans. No matter what is going on, he will always make time for them.

I’m just helping with that. Spinning around, I shake my head. “Oh, no. We’re done here. Go have fun with your new friend, Nate.”

The girl beams at me.

“We’re not done, Paige.” He’s more serious than he usually is with me. He looks back down at the girl. “I’ll be right over.”

She practically skips back to her table, and I roll my eyes one more time.

Nate doesn’t watch her go as he closes the distance between us. “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to answer me seriously. No jabs. No deflections. Just your raw honesty, okay?”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re giving me a choice.”

“What did you feel after we got done skating today?”

I want to do everything he just asked me not to do. Biting my lip, I debate ignoring his request. But there’s something inside me that can’t. Something that has always called to him.

I shift on my feet. “It felt fine.”

Better than fine, actually.

The joy, the confidence. Disconnecting my brain from my body, even for just the ten-fifteen minutes we skated around, was so freeing I almost wish I didn’t run out on him, just so we could’ve kept going.

And I hate that it came back so easily with him.

But what I hate the most is that I want to do it again.

“Will you skate with me tomorrow?” He slips his hands in his back pockets. Seemingly nervous all of a sudden.

It’s such an odd sight, an emotion I don’t often associate with him, that I almost don’t hear his question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”