Page 35 of The Heart Breaker

My stomach growls, loud enough that Nathan glances over, reminding me I haven’t really eaten anything today.

A laugh slips out of me. “I should probably go find food before I pass out.”

Nathan huffs out a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting as he nods and heads off to sit down. I turn the other way and almost slip on a muddy patch of grass, catching myself at the last second. I blow out a breath and step onto a drier spot.

Yeah. I was not built for nature.

The smell of fried food hits me the second I get close, and my stomach growls even louder. God. I would do questionable things for a hot dog right now. I slip into line, folding my arms across myself as the wind hits me.

“Hey.”

I glance over my shoulder at the guy smiling down at me and take in his backward cap, grin, and sharp jaw.

I tilt my head. “Do I know you?”

“Holden,” he says, sliding up beside me in line. “I’m on the hockey team.”

Right. Freshman. I vaguely remember seeing him at games, usually somewhere near Logan and Austin.

“Ah,” I say, turning back toward the truck. “Rookie.”

“I mean… yeah.” He edges a little closer until we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Technically. But I’m more mature for my age.”

A laugh almost slips out, but I manage to hold it back. “Of course you are,” I mutter, folding my arms tighter when another gust of wind slices across my skin.

“Here,” he says, and then a hand lands on my waist.

I stiffen, looking down at his hand, then back up as he shrugs off his jacket.

“You have ten seconds to move that hand,” I say, arching a brow, “before I cut it off.”

He laughs, lifting both hands in surrender. “Got it. No touching. Just thought you looked cold. Want my jacket?”

“I’m good,” I say with a tight smile.

His gaze drops anyway, dragging over me, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Yeah,” he says, glancing back up at my eyes. “You definitely are.”

It might have made me smile if his eyes hadn’t spent half that sentence parked on my chest. I ignore him and step forward as the line finally starts moving.

“You ever seen Scream before?” he asks.

I keep my eyes on the menu board, scanning over prices. “Who hasn’t?”

He chuckles under his breath, completely unbothered by my dry tone. “Fair point. But if you get scared, you can hold my hand.”

I turn my head and catch his grin widening.

Does he really think that works on me?

“I’ll be fine,” I mutter, stepping up to the window the second the person in front of me moves.

Finally.

I step up to the window and lean in. “I’ll take a hot dog with everything on it. And a diet coke, please.”

The guy in the truck nods and starts loading it with onions, mustard, ketchup, jalapeños—every possible thing he can fit in the bun.

Holden keeps talking about his favorite horror movies, but I’m barely listening, too busy staring at the food while my stomach growls, reminding me I should’ve eaten earlier.