Tyler

Once again, my mouth had moved faster than my brain. Because somehow I couldn’t resist saying something about Sydney Walker.

“I guess the outfit was thirsty after all.”

Really, Tyler? Really?

I’d beaten myself up after I realized the words had rolled off my tongue.

In my defense, Brooklyn had started it. She’d planted the idea in my head, and somehow I’d grabbed it, twisted it, and threw it out there without thinking.

I guess some part of me had expected something else. Because, I mean, if Sydney Walker was bold enough to walk into a crowd dressed like the most stunning piece of art I’d ever seen, she...