Chapter Eighteen

Tori and Randy woke a short time later, and he started to tell her how great it had been, but she stopped him.

“Shh. It was perfect. But I need to go now.” She spoke so quietly he leaned closer to hear.

“But—”

She put her finger to his lips. “Text me if you want to hook up again.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t stop her. She rolled off the bed and dressed quickly.

She’d loved every minute of it, but now she needed to leave, to depart the ball before the magic struck midnight. Before the young prince found her glass slipper and crushed it beneath false promises he had no intention of keeping.

If he pursued her, demonstrated he truly wanted to see her again, she’d happily meet him, but she wouldn’t stick around now for that awkward pillow talk. It would ruin this exquisite experience, forever tarnish her memory of this special night.

He kept throwing her glances into the dark room, seeming to want to say something, but eventually he, too, rose and dressed, pulling on his pants and slipping into his shoes. She dressed faster, needing to escape. She grabbed her shoes in her hand and rose on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Thank you for a super night,” she whispered.

She turned and ran. As she slipped through the door, she glanced back. Randy stood by the bed watching her, his T-shirt in his hand, a dazed expression on his face.