I drove back to Liam’s house that night, nerves coiling in my stomach tighter with each passing streetlight. The high from lunch with Mason had faded. Now, it was just dread. The kind that simmers and sits heavy on your chest.
Telling Liam about the tour felt like walking into a storm with a matchstick umbrella. I’d played it out in my head a dozen times. Each version ended with tension… or worse.
His car wasn’t parked out front, and that bought me time–time to breathe, time to panic. I was halfway to knocking when the door swung open.
“Look who the cat dragged in,” Sophia grinned, standing barefoot in a fluffy robe, a ridiculous headband pushing back her curls, and a bowl of popcorn in hand. “You look like you need sugar and a rom-com.”
“Hey,” I mumbled, stepping inside.
“Liam’s not
