Tonight, she’s ditched the leather jacket and tight black jeans for a slim-fitting, light blue dress that makes her look hot in a way I’ve never seen before, and which is driving me crazy with lust. She even wore her wild, crazy hair up tonight. I never thought I’d see her do that, but then again, this is the Grammys. I pretend to pay attention to the stage a little more, but as soon as the audience starts clapping I push my hand toward the slit in her dress, fingers venturing between soft silk and even softer skin. Haley pulls my hand away and continues clapping. Out of the corner of her mouth, barely moving her lips lest a camera settle on her, she speaks to me. “Brando, I’m going to kill you when we get out of here!” “I know,” I say, without trying to hide it, “and that dress is already torturing me.” The clapping stops and the host cranks up into another introduction. I turn from Haley to my other side, where Jax and Lizzie are sitting. The seats were reserved for Haley’s mom and Josh, but I should have known both of them would rather watch the Grammys on TV than attend it.
